rner, and with highly satisfactory laughter
watched their blushing partner labouring dismally to collect the
fragments. Some of his friends issuing from the club lent a hand,
and the joy of the conspirators was complete.

But to the family man, moving is no such airy picnic. Sadly he
goes through the last dismal rites and sees the modest fragments
of his dominion hustled toward the cold sepulture of a motor van.
Before the toughened bearing of the hirelings he doubts what
manner to assume. Shall he stand at the front door and exhort
them to particular care with each sentimental item, crying "Be
careful with that little chair; that's the one the Urchin uses
when he eats his evening prunes!" Or shall he adopt a gruesome
sarcasm, hoping to awe them by conveying the impression that even
if the whole van should be splintered in collision, he can get
more at the nearest department store? Whatever policy he adopts,
they will not be much impressed. For, when we handed our
gratuity, not an ungenerous one, to the driver, asking him to
divide it among the gang, we were startled to hear them burst
into loud screams of mirth. We asked, grimly, the cause. It
appeared that during the work one of our friends, apparently
despairing of any pourboire appropriate to his own conceptions of
reward, had sold his share of the tip to the driver for fifteen
cents. We are not going to say how much he lost by so doing. But
this gamble put the driver in such a good humour that we believe
he will keep away from railroad crossings.

SURF FISHING

[Illustration]

All day long you see them stand thigh-deep in the surf, fishing.
Up on the beach each one has a large basket containing clams for
bait, extra hooks and leaders, a little can of oil for the reel,
and any particular doo-dads dear to the heart of the individual
fisherman. And an old newspaper, all ready to protect the
anticipated catch from the rays of the sun.

Some of them wear bathing suits; others rubber hip-boots, or
simply old clothes that won't mind getting wet. If they are very
full of swank they will have a leather belt with a socket to hold
the butt of the rod. Every now and then you will see them pacing
backward up the beach, reeling in the line. They will mutter
something about a big strike that time, and he got away with the
bait. With zealous care they spear some more clam on the hook,
twisting it over and over the barb so as to be firmly impaled.
Then, with carefu