South Beach. 29 



was hidden, and there were flashes of lightning. I hastened, 

 and, getting a few boards together, made a little shed 

 against a log, under which I placed my clothes — then I 

 went into the water. Soon the waves rose white-capped, 

 and I came ashore ; a small boat in the distance drew 

 down its sails and lowered its anchor. The sand was 

 blown so swiftly before the gale that it stung my unpro- 

 tected back ; then there came a lull, and then the rain — a 

 gentle summer shower. The drops pelting down on me 

 seemed cold, and they dug little pits in the sand, striking 

 it with much force. So long have we had umbrellas, 

 coats or sheepskins 5 and dwelt in houses, that to stand 

 thus unprotected in even a summer shower, is a memorable 

 experience. Anon the sun burst forth, and quickly dried 

 the sand and me; and to look over the placid scene one 

 would have thought it unlikely that a few moments before 

 the leaves had been wrenched from the trees. The black 

 clouds went sailing off in the distance, the small boat drew 

 up its anchor and spread its sails, and the grasshoppers 

 sang again in the meadow. 



The coming in and going out of the tide gives an extra 

 interest to the shore, and he that lives by adjusts much of 

 his daily employment to its rise and fall. He may go out 

 in the morning and find a chair or a neat little boat cast 

 up at his door, or maybe some poor fish that missed his 

 reckoning, and was thrown on the sand in consequence. 

 There is ever a newness, and you stand by expecting 

 something, just as the fishermen do who look in the 

 direction in which they cast their lines, though they can 

 see nothing but the waves. I have noticed that when 



