46 South Beach. 



may often get over the wet places in the lane tolerably 

 well ; and if, mayhap, your shoes get wet, run in the grass 

 awhile on some dry knoll or ridge, for the grass will dry 

 your shoes quite speedily. 



I remember one cold, bright, windy day, as I came 

 along the beach, seeing one of the Hermit's dogs tugging 

 at the remains of an old white horse that lay on the sand. 

 The dog stood with his legs braced and pulled at the 

 tough, hard skin with all of his strength, but when he saw 

 me, he ran across the bridge, casting an occasional sullen 

 look behind. Then there was a general barking, and fhe 

 four or five dogs made a rush for me — came bounding up 

 on the end of the bridge, but I greeted them as a friend, 

 and they concluded to regard me in that light, though I do 

 not think their first intention was so kindly. Soon I had 

 them growling at one another as each tried to get a larger 

 share of the caresses I so lavishly bestowed. 



Near by there was a stack of hay, and I sat myself 

 down on its sunny side to eat lunch while the north wind 

 blew. At one end of the stack there was a second white 

 horse, a forlorn, decrepit animal, and probably the survivor 

 of some hackman's team, whose other member I had seen 

 lying dead. As I ate my crackers and bread and orange I 

 could hear the horse grinding his provender, and when I 

 returned, three hours later, he was still eating. There he 

 stood, with his eyes half closed, and slowly munched the 

 hay, while the north wind cast his shaggy coat into 

 ridges. 



It seems useless to describe natural scenery when every 

 one may see it if they will, but the very color of the beach, 



