REMINISCENT TALES 



from the cradle to the grave. Tragedies 

 of a capricious ocean o'ershadow all else. 

 The goddess of Mirth ne'er tarried here. 



This dreadful monotony is only relieved by 

 the picturesque harbors. Among and on the 

 sides of the broadened stone formations that 

 guard the entrances to these restful monads of 

 a vast wilderness, queer fishing shacks are ob- 

 served, scattered here and there or often safe 

 and secure, several are huddled together in a 

 protected corner. Resplendent in coloring, 

 high built dories are anchored in quiet waters 

 or pulled well up on the sands. Drying on 

 Ferris-like wooden wheels, huge fishing nets 

 add both a pleasing and ornamental effect. 

 Beyond the sandy beaches glimpses reveal 

 the well-kept homes of the fisher folk. 



All hamlets are built alike and look alike. 

 Each domicile has a tiny garden of its own. 

 Each garden is surrounded by a fence. These 

 fences charm and fascinate. They excel the 

 stockades of the days when Indian warfare 

 existed, in their strength and general appear- 

 ance. 



Such gates Ye GODS such gates ! Mas- 

 sive; stupendous; solid. Absolutely barring an 

 entrance to the agricultural delights within. 

 No earthly power can destroy them. Per- 



