I 
PART VIII. 
Nantucket—and We Live for a Transformed Hour 
in the Atmosphere of the Pioneers of All Fish¬ 
ing, the Whalers. Time, in the Meanwhile, Has 
Developed an Inexorable Conflict of Youth, be¬ 
tween Profitless Pleasure and the Invigorating 
Sport of the Out-of-Doors. You Learn the Sequel. 
By W. LIVINGSTON LARNED 
T HE irresponsible tinkle of Jazz! 
All the night is filled with it. Several rooms of the 
hotel rock and reel under its spell, whilst an over¬ 
flow on the broad, moonlit porches, facing Old Ocean, 
moves in mystic shadow to the swinging cadence of 
“Dirty Face, Dirty Hands.” 
In the supposed restraint of the parlor, where folks 
well past middle-age, immaculate, white-haired, deco¬ 
rous, rock and knit and tat and gossip and play bridge, 
a spirit of mischief is afloat. Nor is it altogether the 
summer’s night ... the romance of venerable Nan¬ 
tucket, reborn for this generation. 
A grandfather keeps time with his feet to the jazz 
in another room, as he trumps his partner s ace. An 
austere and dignified matron places her copy of Flam¬ 
ing Youth” on the table long enough to fan the air with 
two blue-veined hands. 
Music! Jazz! the feverish gust of stringed instru¬ 
ments. Voice of the saxophone. Many feet, pattering: 
Down at the Boat Club it is much the same. Youth is 
having its fling. More music! More dancing! Every 
ice-cream parlor, every tea shop, every soda fount, 
bubbles and seethes with a new generation, gone wild. 
From the moonlit beach echo smothered gusts of gig¬ 
gling laughter. There is no bathing at this hour, but 
there is Youth triumphant. 
Pape 6V, 
