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WHEN THE SEASON IS ENDING 



Bv JOHN T. WILLETS 



T the seashore the 

 latter days of Aug- 

 ust are filled with 

 preparations for the 

 return of the ma- 

 jority of visitors to 

 their respective 

 homes. The re- 

 sumption of business, the opening of 

 the schools and the reawakening of the 

 world of industry after its brief sum- 

 mer rest, all give warning that the sea- 

 son of recreation is nearly at an end. 

 Fortunate are they who are able to re- 

 main a few weeks longer, through the 

 mild September, with its pure, bracing 

 atmosphere, its cool nights and mellow, 

 warm days, — a time when bathing, fish- 

 ing, sailing and all aquatic sports will 

 be found to be nearer perfection than 

 in any other month. 



At Manahawken, an old village near 

 the New Jersey coast, let the late vaca- 

 tionist procure a "sneak box" and go 

 down the creek to the bay, which lies 

 about two miles east of the village. A 

 sneak box is a boat whose model is pe- 

 culiar to Manahawken and the sea- 

 shore towns north of it. Built particu- 

 larly for gunning, it lies low in the 

 water, and the deck is nearly a coun- 

 terpart of the bottom in shape. The 

 upper part of the craft slopes slightly 

 both longitudinally and laterally toward 

 the water, while the bottom rises as 

 gradually to meet it ; a sort of a min- 

 iature monitor. A two-fold advantage 

 is gained by this model, the boat is 

 easily concealed when gunning for 



ducks, and it draws very little water, — ■ 

 the latter being an important considera- 

 tion in Manahawken Bay, which, in 

 most parts of it, is quite shallow. This 

 class of boat is also easy to row and is 

 a fast sailer. 



Far to the left as we sail down the 

 creek, standing isolated from other 

 habitations, is an old house, which, 

 years ago, before the railroad had 

 reached the seashore was a popular re- 

 sort for visitors who sought the cool 

 breezes of the Atlantic and the sport 

 with line and gun in Manahawken Bay 

 and the waters south of it. The ''Ferry 

 House," as it is still called, which in a 

 few of its details has been modernized, 

 occupied its present site long before the 

 war of 1812. Many interesting relics 

 have been unearthed on the premises, 

 among them being portions of human 

 skeletons, stone axes, flint arrow-heads 

 and other evidences of the existence 

 of Indian tribes that once frequented 

 that vicinity. Near the landing, where 

 the main land joins the meadow, is an- 

 other deserted structure which is 

 equally old, and which was also once a 

 place of entertainment for the traveling 

 public. 



The sun is hot, but its fervid rays are 

 tempered by a cool breeze from the 

 north. An expanse of water opens up 

 to the east, and beyond it gleams the 

 white sand of the beach, the narrow 

 barrier between the bay and the ocean. 

 With the sea air pervading their lungs, 

 the saline odor of the meadows in their 

 nostrils, and the fresh wind 



fanning 



137 



