. In brightest summer land . scattered at intervals, apparently intent upona common purpose upon the dripping sands. These toilers by the seahad caught the attention of the sharp-eyed Beth, who, after studyingthem intently for some time, said : — What are those creatures doing down by the waters edge ? They 40 cant be fishing or clamming, for I see women among them- If theywere shell-gathering, they would not stop so long bent over one place,nor work so intently and incessantly.* Mos5-gathering,~ laconically answered the driver, who had beenhard pat to it for the last half-hour in answering in
. In brightest summer land . scattered at intervals, apparently intent upona common purpose upon the dripping sands. These toilers by the seahad caught the attention of the sharp-eyed Beth, who, after studyingthem intently for some time, said : — What are those creatures doing down by the waters edge ? They 40 cant be fishing or clamming, for I see women among them- If theywere shell-gathering, they would not stop so long bent over one place,nor work so intently and incessantly.* Mos5-gathering,~ laconically answered the driver, who had beenhard pat to it for the last half-hour in answering in the fewest wordsall the questions of Malcolm- ^ There isnt another such a place inthe world for Irish moss, as along these shores. The moss districtextends from Hull to South Ph-mouth: but it gets to be scanty pick-ing before the Plymouth shores are reached, though there are somegood grounds down there, in the White-Horse and Cove neighbor-hooc= ^ o: ->^--r_t ?et tnelr entire iidrigLv moss-gathering. ■^■^. Malcolm explained how themoss was iar-ded on the beachesby the surf, washed, dried, andbleached, and marketed in immense quantities from these , turning to Fritz, he said : — You were singing for us last evening a song which I thmk willhave a new meaning for you when you sing it again; for yonder is 41 the spot and the veritable well which contained the old oaken bucketof which Samuel Woodworth wrote, in the words of your song. Yousee the house there, on the gentle rise among the trees. The well isjust by the porch of that dwelling, but it was not so near it when thepoet wrote as it is today. Poor Woodworth ! For all his impassionedeulogy of the fine spring-water of that well, he drank far too infre-quently of it, and his lips w-ere oftener greeted by the full blushinggoblet to which he alludes than by the brim of the iron-boundbucket — As, dripping with coolness, it rose from the well. However, he has made the locality famous, and has gi
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