32 South Beach. 



The fishermen stand in a line along the beach, or sit 

 on empty barrels, or old baskets, or boxes, and often they 

 support their poles on uprights, and anxiously watch for 

 them to bend. They busy themselves about the fire, and 

 while one watches the poles another collects drift-wood to 

 feed it. Their lunch is spread out near by, and they dig a 

 hole in the sand wherein to put the apples and tomatoes, 

 thus keeping them from rolling down the beach. The fire, 

 with its crackle and blue curling smoke, and the captured 

 fish lying by, all remind you of a primitive simplicity, and 

 indeed it is this desire to live close, at least for one day, to 

 the essentials of a natural life that prompts many of the 

 men to visit the sea-shore. When seen at a distance, the 

 smoke from the fires tones admirably with the ocean tints, 

 and gives a pleasing haziness to the surroundings. Occa- 

 sionally the fires are made against a big beam, or a pile, 

 that has broken loose and drifted ashore, and these 

 immense pieces of wood becoming ignited, bum with a 

 dull sullenness long after the rest of the fire has gone out. 

 These are pleasant places to tarry on the cold days, when 

 the wind blows across the meadows from the north, and 

 you may even sit on the beam and hang your hands over, 

 near the glowing embers. The fire imparts an inde- 

 scribable character to the wood; the beam that smokes 

 seems to be essentially different from the others along the 

 shore, and you discover yourself regarding it as half alive. 

 But be very circumspect as to the logs, the- driftwood, and 

 pieces of old vessels, that you sit upon. On the warm 

 days different substances — tar, pitch, resin, and their 

 various combinations which give to a vessel a peculiar and 



