116 THE JERSEY COAST. 



crowded ranks to our delighted gaze. From the 

 very clouds, would come the shrill whistle of the 

 yelper, or from the horizon, the long shriek of the 

 willet, or nearer at hand would be heard the plain- 

 tive note of the gentle dowitcher ; they appeared 

 from all quarters, sailing low along the water or 

 pitching directly down from out the sky. 



Towards evening the flight diminished, and when 

 the horn announced that supper was ready, the dif- 

 ferent parties met once more at the house to compare 

 notes and relate adventures. All had met with 

 excellent success, but our stand carried off the palm. 



" Bill," commenced some unhappy person, after 

 we had left the close, hot dining-room, " why do you 

 not enlarge your house ?" 



"Bill is waiting for another wreck," was the 

 volunteer response ; " the whole coast is fed, clothed, 

 and sheltered by the wrecks. The house is built 

 from the remnants of unfortunate ships, as you per- 

 ceive by the name-boards of the Arion, Pilgrim, 

 Samuel Willets, J. Harthorn, and Johanna, that form 

 so conspicuous a part of the front under the porch. 

 When a vessel is driven ashore, and the crew and 

 passengers who are not quite dead are disposed of 

 by the aid of a stone in the corner of a handkerchief, 

 which makes an unsuspicious bruise, the prize is 

 fought for by the natives, and not only the cargo, 

 but the very ribs and planks of the vessel appro- 

 priated." 



" Now that's not fair," replied Bill, aroused ; "no 

 man, except my father-in-law, has done more to save 



