ld talk about the trackless deserts of
burning sands; and of the groves of cinnamon, and all sweet spices,
where bright-colored parrots are found; and of the great storms at
sea, when the waves dashed ships to pieces. Another time a foreigner
would have much to say about the strange people and customs of other
lands; and sometimes they talked in a strange language, and could not
be understood, and that was very amusing.

The organ-grinders were the best, for they would play such beautiful
tunes, and perhaps there would be children who would tinkle their
tambourines, and sing the songs that the girls sing in Italy when they
tread out the grapes for wine. And sometimes there would be--oh, joy!
a monkey! And then what fun Harry would have!

And sometimes there were poor men and women, tired and sick, who had
nothing to say but what was sad.

Occasionally an artist would stop under the tree. He would have a
great many of his sketches with him, which he would show to Harry and
Grandpa. And then he would go off to a distance, and make a picture of
the splendid oak, with the old man and child under it, and perhaps he
would put into it some poor woman with her baby, who happened to be
there, and some poor girl drinking out of the spring. And Harry and
Grandpa always thought this better than any of the other pictures he
showed them.

[Illustration]

THE SEA-SIDE.

The ocean is so wonderful itself, that it invests with some of its
peculiar interest the very sands and rocks that lie upon its edges.
There is always something to see at the sea-side; whether you walk
along the lonely coast; go down among the fishermen, and their nets
and boats; or pass along the sands, lively with crowds of
many-colored bathers.

But if there was nothing but the grand old ocean itself, it would be
enough. Whether it is calm and quiet, just rolling in steadily upon
the shore, in long lines of waves, which come sweeping and curling
upon the beach and then breaking, spread far out over the sand--or
whether the storm-waves, tossing high their lofty heads, come rushing
madly upon the coast, dashing themselves upon the sands and thundering
up against the rocks, the sea is grand!

What a tremendous thing an ocean is! Ever in powerful motion; so
wonderful and awful in its unknown depths, and stretching so far, far,
far away!

But, even on the coasts of this great ocean, our days seem all too
short, as we search among the rocks and in the