The Quaint Cape-Codders 



Ah, what a life were this ! 



HENRY VI. 



ON my trip to Cape Cod, via the Old Colony Rail- 

 road, I saw, on every hand, signs of the stern difficul- 

 ties that beset the Cape-Codder and make his path 

 through life a rough, as well as an unprofitable one to 

 travel. His comforts are few and hard to get. He 

 has to be satisfied with rude shelter and ruder fare, 

 and to secure even these he is often compelled to wade 

 his " bog of Adversity." Yet he doesn't lose heart, but 

 shoulders his bundle of troubles philosophically and 

 plods along his miry way. Now, if Hamlet had but 

 owned a little of this Cape Cod philosophy he would 

 never have sprung his crazy question on the world 

 whether it is better " to be, or not to be." Nor would 

 the " arrows of outrageous fortune " have bothered him 

 gravely. He would have paid as little heed to their 

 whiz about his ears as a tough-skinned native pays to 

 the buzz of a Jersey mosquito. The " sea of troubles " 

 that swamped the Dane and upset the craft of his 

 annotators were trifles compared with those that buffet 

 the Cape-Codder in his struggle for existence on the 

 barren dunes and pine forests and cranberry bogs that 

 make up the topography of his habitat. We can read- 

 ily read in his face the story of poor soil and scanty 

 crops and battles with the winds and storms he can't 



290 



