be seen from their little island, spouting off in the distance; and
their ships came proudly bearing down to the bar, laden heavily with the
good sperm oil, and all hearts were made lighter and each purse heavier,
with every new arrival of good fortune; as if they had been one great
family, each one smiling on another's prosperity. "But now,"--and the
face of the narrator is less joyous as he turns from _then_ to
_now_,--"things are not what they were. Our island is becoming like what
they tell me the world at large is." And the old man will re-light his
pipe, and with a sad smile he will give you the names of his ancestors,
from his great "Grand-'ther" down to more modern times, when his fifth
cousin Obed was a large ship-owner. Ah! treat such of other days with
kindness, for the style of that day will never come again; their great
hearts of brotherly love are not of this generation, yet they have left
an impress upon those well-loved shores that can never be entirely
erased. Those foot-prints of long ago, combined with the peculiarities
which will ever dwell with these children of the sea, are attractions
which insure to the stranger on his first visit, visions of many a happy
hour in the future; and he will long for the season to return which
shall liberate so many of the city doomed artificials to a few weeks'
intercourse with nature.

Awakened at early dawn by the sailor's merry "yo, ho," coming up from
the waters with the sun, you turn your eyes seaward, and what a glorious
sight is before you! As far as the eye can reach, water, blue, rolling
water, tinged with rising sunlight in its morning purity; the night-bird
folds her wings, which she has laved in the white sea-foam, softening
the sigh of the breakers to the ear of those who slumbered; the white
sails bow their heads, while the old tars wonder what makes them so
happy. With these pleasant sunrise impressions you go forth into the day
with more lenient views towards the "land of whales," sniffing the salt