was habitually used by the villagers, had not the best
name as a bathing place. It was pretty enough, with yellow sand, white
shells, and pebbles; but there was what is termed an "under-tow"--in one
particular place stronger than elsewhere; and at times it was a
dangerous matter to get within the influence of this "under-tow," unless
the person so exposing himself was a good and strong swimmer.

There was a legend among the villagers, that some one had been drowned
by this current; but that was an occurrence of long ago, and had almost
ceased to be talked about. There were also one or two more modern
instances of bathers being carried out to sea, but finally saved by
boats sent after them.

I remember at that time having been struck with a fact relating to these
mishaps; and this was, that the older inhabitants of the village, and
they who were of most consequence in the place, never liked to talk
about them; either shrugging their shoulders and remaining silent, or
giving the legends a flat contradiction. Some of them even went so far
as to deny the existence of an "under-tow," while others contented
themselves by asserting that it was perfectly harmless. I always
noticed, however, that parents would not permit their boys to bathe near
the place where the dangerous current was represented to exist.

I never knew the reason why the villagers were so unwilling to
acknowledge the "under-tow," and the truth of the stories connected
therewith. That is, I knew it not until long, long afterwards--until I
came home again after my forty years of adventure. On my return, I
found the same silence and shrugging of the shoulders, although by a
generation of villagers altogether different from those I had left
behind. And this, too, notwithstanding that several accidents had
occurred in my absence, to prove that the "under-tow" did actually
exist, and that it was actually dangerous.

But I was then older and better able to reason about men's motives, and
I soon fathomed the mystery. It was this: our village is, as you know,
what is called a "watering-place," and derived some support from
visitors who came to it to spend a few weeks of their summer. It is a
watering-place upon a small scale, it is true, but were there to be much
talk about the "under-tow," or too much credence given to legends of
people who have been drowned by it, it would become a watering-place on
a still smaller scale, or might cease to be one altoget