"O, Bascom is a poor, shiftless kind of a critter. I s'pose the snow
went off before he got ready to haul them to the mill; but if he had
peeled them in June or July, they would have been all right; but now
they will be about sp'iled by the worms."

Mr. Wetherell got Darby turned around after much backing and getting up,
for the lane was narrow, and we started homeward.

As we rode slowly along, Mr. Wetherell asked me: "Have you ever been to
the beach?"

I told him, "Yes, and I enjoyed it."

He said: "I always liked to go, but Mis' Wetherell has a dread of the
water, ever since her brother Judson was drowned."

"Was he a sailor?" I asked.

"Yes, he was a sea-capt'n. He married a Philadelphy woman, and they
sailed in the brig Florilla. She was wrecked on the coast of Ireland.
She run on a rock, and broke her in two amidships. Her cargo was cotton,
the bales floated in ashore, and formed a bridge for a second or so. The
first mate and one of the sailors ran in on this bridge, but the next
wave took them out and scattered them, and there was no way to save the
rest. Judson and his wife, and all the crew, except the mate and one
sailor, were all drowned. The mate stayed there for some time, and
buried the bodies which washed ashore. He found Judson's body first, and
had most given up finding his wife's, when one day she washed into a
little cove, and he buried them side by side. He came here to our house,
and told us all about it. It was awful. It completely upsot Mis'