48 NORTH SHORE BREEZE and Reminder 
AST GLOUCESTER. Mrs. E.. E. Abbott and daugh- 
ter, Miss Helen Abbott, of Worcester, who recently 
concluded their sojourn at the Rockaway, came down 
especially on Monday for the lawn fete at the hotel. Miss 
Abbott has been a pupil.in voice of Mr. Wilson at the 
-"“Cabin” studio. Mr. Abbott, who is devoted to Glou- 
cester and spent his recent vacation here, is now in Den- 
ver, Colo. Mr. Abbott is an expert swimmer and entered 
surf bathing at Bass Rocks almost daily while a guest at 
East Gloucester. 
Late Beachcroft guests include: Mrs. John Edwin 
Smith, Miss Eugenia Smith, Newton Centre; Mr. and 
Mrs. W. J. Jenkins, Stuart Jenkins, St. Louis, Mo.; C. H. 
Curney, James Hedley, Miss Hedley, Miss Hazel Hedley, 
Toronto; Miss C. R. Wright, Boston; Mr. and Mrs. L. H. 
Sylvester, Kalamazoo, Mich; Mr. and Mrs. 8. N. Allen, 
Grand Rapids, Mich.; Milton J. Stone, Cambridge; F. S. 
Graves, Springfield, Mrs. N. C. Ashwell, Miss M. Ash- 
well. New York. 
Dr. Thomas H. Sprague and Mrs. Theodore H. 
Sprague, of Troy, N. Y., are guests at the Rockaway. 
Mrs. John J. Symer, Miss Marion Symer and Miss 
Helen E. Bliss, of Evanston, IIl., are spending a sojourn at 
the Rockaway Hotel. 
The 
August 13, 1915, 
Mrs. Benjamin Guckenberger, the prominent con- 
tralto and instructor of voice at the Guckenberger School 
of Music, Boston, is at the Rockaway, East Gloucester, 
for a sojourn. ‘With her aresher daughter, Mrs. Corinne 
Molina, and little grandson, Louis, of West Roxbury. 
L. H. Jenkins and daughter, Miss Ellen Jenkins, of 
Richmond, Va., joined the other members of their family 
hcre this week, for the remainder of the month and part 
of September. 
Mrs. H. W. Johnson, Misses Florence, Ellen, Wiley 
and Caroline Johnson of Savannah, Ga., are late guests t» 
join the southern contingent stopping at the Rockaway 
hotel. 
Miss Marion Schueich of West Roxbury spent a few 
days at the Rockaway, the guest of Mrs. S. F. Gerry 
Wilder and Mrs. Margaret Gerry. Guckenberger. 
The Guckenbergers of Cincinnati, O., are expected 
this week at the Rockaway for an extended visit and will 
join relatives and friends. 
Mr. and Mrs. A. W. Hard, Esq., of Milwaukee, Wis., 
are at the Rockaway for August. Their daughter, Miss 
Be Hard, from Ogunquit, Me., joins them this week- 
end. 
Sea 
Text from FILSON YOUNG’S “‘Christepher Columbus’’ 
MAN standing on the seashore is perhaps as ancient 
and as primitive a symbol of wonder as the mind can 
conceive. Beneath his feet are the stones and grasses 
of an element that is his own, natural to him, in some 
degree belonging to him, at any rate accepted by him. He 
has place and condition there. Above him arches a world 
of immense void, fleecy sailing clouds, infinite clear blue- 
ness, shapes that change and dissolve; his day comes out 
of it, his source of light and warmth marches across it; 
night falls from it; showers and dews also, and the quiet 
influence of the stars. Strange that impalpable element 
must be, and forever unattainable by him; yet with its gifts 
of sun and shower, its furniture of winged life that inhab- 
its also on the friendly soil, it has links and partnerships 
with life as he knows it and is a complement of earthly 
conditions. But at his feet there lies the fringe of another 
element, another condition, of a vaster and more simple 
unity than earth or air, which the primitive man of our 
picture knows to be not his at all. It is fluent and unstable’ 
yet to be touched and felt; it rises and falls, moves and 
frets about his very feet, as though it had a life and 
entity of its own, and was engaged upon some mysterious 
business. Unlike the silent earth and the dreaming clouds 
it has a voice that fills his world and, now low, now loud, 
echoes throughout his waking and sleeping life. Earth with 
her sprouting fruits behind and beneath him; sky, and 
larks singing, above him; before him, an eternal alien, the 
sea: he stands there upon the shore, arrested, wondering. 
He lives, this man of our figure; he proceeds, as all 
must proceed, with the task and burden of life. One by 
one its miracles are unfolded to him; miracles of fire and 
cold, and pain and pleasure; the seizure of love, the terri- 
ble magic of reproduction, the sad miracle of death. He 
fights and lusts and endures; and, no more’ troubled by 
any wonder, sleeps at Jast. But throughout the days of 
his life, in the very act of his rude existence, this great 
tumultuous presence of the sea troubles and overbears him. 
Sometimes in its bellowing rage it terrifies him, sometimes 
in its tranquillity it allures him; but whatever he is doing, 
grubbing for roots, chipping experimentally with bones 
and stones, he has an eye upon it; and in his passage by 
the shore he pauses, looks, and wonders. His eye is led 
from the crumbling snow at his feet, past the clear green 
of the shallows, beyond the furrows of the nearer waves, 
to the calm blue of the distance; and in his glance there 
shines again that wonder, as in his breast stirs the vague 
longing and unrest that is the life-force of the world. : 
What is there beyond? It is the eternal question 
asked by the finite of the infinite, by the mortal of the 
immortal; answer to it there is none save in the unending 
preoccupation of life and labor. And if this old question 
was in truth first asked upon the sea-shore, it was asked 
most often and with the most painful wonder upon the 
western shores, whence the journeying sun was seen to go 
down and quench himself in the sea. The generations 
that followed our primitive man grew fast in knowledge, 
and perhaps for a time wondered the less as they knew 
the more; but we may be sure they never ceased to wonder 
at what might lie beyond the sea. How much more must 
they have wondered if they looked west upon the waters, 
and saw the sun of each succeeding day sink upon a couch 
of glory where they could not follow! All pain aspires 
to oblivion, all toil to rest, all troubled discontent with what 
is present to what is unfamiliar and far away; and no 
power of knowledge and scientific fact will ever prevent 
human unhappiness from reachine out towards some land 
of dreams of which the burning brightness of a sea sunset 
is an image. Is it very hard to believe, then, that in that 
yearning towards the miracle of a sun quenched in sea dis- 
tance, felt and felt again in human hearts through count- 
less generations, the westward stream of human activity 
on this planet had its rise? Is it unreasonable to picture, 
on an earth spinning eastward, a treadmill rush of feet 
to follow the sinking light? The history of man’s life in 
this world does not, at any rate, contradict us. Wisdom, 
discovery, art, commerce, science, civilization, have all 
moved west across our world; have all in their 
cycles followed the sun; have all, in their day of power, 
risen in the East and set in the West. 
