like a flat pebble, but still bore a very distinct and handsome
head of Louis XV., and the usual legend on the reverse, "_Sit Nomen
Domini Benedictum_," (Blessed be the Name of the Lord,)--a pleasing
sentiment to read in the sands of the sea-shore, whatever it might be
stamped on,--and I also made out the date, 1741. Of course, I thought at
first that it was that same old button which I have found so many times,
but my knife soon showed the silver. Afterward, rambling on the bars at
low tide, I cheated my companion by holding up round shells (_Scutellae_)
between my fingers, whereupon he quickly stripped and came off to me.

In the Revolution, a British ship-of-war, called the Somerset, was
wrecked near the Clay Pounds, and all on board, some hundreds in number,
were taken prisoners. My informant said that he had never seen any
mention of this in the histories, but that at any rate he knew of a
silver watch, which one of those prisoners by accident left there, which
was still going to tell the story. But this event is noticed by some
writers.

The next summer I saw a sloop from Chatham dragging for anchors and
chains just off this shore. She had her boats out at the work while she
shuffled about on various tacks, and, when anything was found, drew up
to hoist it on board. It is a singular employment, at which men are
regularly hired and paid for their industry, to hunt to-day in pleasant
weather for anchors which have been lost,--the sunken faith and hope of
mariners, to which they trusted in vain: now, perchance, it is the rusty
one of some old pirate's ship or Norman fisherman, whose cable parted
here two hundred years ago; and now the best bower-anchor of a Canton or
a California ship, which has gone about her business. If the roadsteads
of the spiritual ocean could be thus dragged, what rusty flukes of hope
deceived and parted chain-cables of faith might again be windlassed
aboard! enough to sink the finder's craft, or stock new navies to the
end of time. The bottom of the sea is strown with anchors, some deeper
and some shallower, and alternately covered and uncovered by the sand,
perchance with a small length of iron cable still attached,--of which
where is the other end? So many unconcluded tales to be continued
another time. So, if we had diving-bells adapted to the spiritual deeps,
we should see anchors with their cables attached, as thick as eels in
vinegar, all wriggling vainly toward their holding-ground. Bu