PAGE 4
A Bit of Shore Life
by
“They’re always glad to get new fish,” said he. “The girls can’t abide a fish that’s corned, and I haven’t had a chance to send ’em up any mackerel before. Ye see, they live on a cross-road, and the fish-carts don’t go by.” And I told him I was very glad to carry them, or any thing else he would like to send. “Mind your manners, now, Georgie,” said he, “and don’t be forrard. You might split up some kindlin’s for y’r aunts, and do whatever they want of ye. Boys ain’t made just to look at, so ye be handy, will ye?” And Georgie nodded solemnly. They seemed very fond of each other, and I looked back some time afterward to see the fisherman still standing there to watch his boy. He was used to his being out at sea alone for hours; but this might be a great risk to let him go off inland to stay all the afternoon.
The road crossed the salt-marshes for the first mile, and, when we had struck the higher land, we soon entered the pine-woods, which cover a great part of that country. It had been raining in the morning for a little while; and the trunks of the trees were still damp, and the underbrush was shining wet, and sent out a sweet, fresh smell. I spoke of it, and Georgie told me that sometimes this fragrance blew far out to sea, and then you knew the wind was north-west.
“There’s the big pine you sight Minister’s Ledge by,” said he, “when that comes in range over the white schoolhouse, about two miles out.”
The lobsters were clashing their pegged claws together in the back of the wagon, and Georgie sometimes looked over at them to be sure they were all right. Of course I had given him the reins when we first started, and he was delighted because we saw some squirrels, and even a rabbit, which scurried across the road as if I had been a fiery dragon, and Georgie something worse.
We presently came in sight of a house close by the road,–an old-looking place, with a ledgy, forlorn field stretching out behind it toward some low woods. There were high white-birch poles holding up thick tangles of hop-vines, and at the side there were sunflowers straggling about as if they had come up from seed scattered by the wind. Some of them were close together, as if they were whispering to each other; and their big, yellow faces were all turned toward the front of the house, where people were already collected as if there was a funeral.
“It’s the auction,” said Georgie with great satisfaction. “I heard ’em talking about it down at the shore this morning. There’s Lisha Downs now. He started off just before we did. That’s his fish-cart over by the well.”
“What is going to be sold?” said I.
“All the stuff,” said Georgie, as if he were much pleased. “She’s going off up to Boston with her son.”
“I think we had better stop,” said I, for I saw Mrs. ‘Lisha Downs, who was one of my acquaintances at the shore, and I wished to see what was going on, besides giving Georgie a chance at the festivities. So we tied the horse, and went toward the house, and I found several people whom I knew a little. Mrs. Downs shook hands with me as formally as if we had not talked for some time as I went by her house to the shore, just after my breakfast. She presented me to several of her friends with whom she had been talking as I came up. “Let me make you acquainted,” she said: and every time I bowed she bowed too, unconsciously, and seemed a little ill at ease and embarrassed, but luckily the ceremony was soon over. “I thought I would stop for a few minutes,” said I by way of apology. “I didn’t know why the people were here until Georgie told me.”