t this great
and generous ocean, which had so many fish to spare, could not fail to
send him, at last, the morsel for which he was waiting.

But indeed I was not long in perceiving that the Southern climate made
patience a comparatively easy virtue, and fishing, by a natural
consequence, a favorite avocation. Day after day, as I crossed the
bridges on my way to and from the beach, the same men stood against the
rail, holding their poles over the river. They had an air of having been
there all winter. I came to recognize them, though I knew none of their
names. One was peculiarly happy looking, almost radiant, with an
educated face, and only one hand. His disability hindered him, no doubt.
I never saw so much as a sheep-head or a drum lying at his feet. But
inwardly, I felt sure, his luck was good. Another was older, fifty at
least, sleek and well dressed. He spoke pleasantly enough, if I
addressed him; otherwise he attended strictly to business. Every day he
was there, morning and afternoon. He, I think, had better fortune than
any of the others. Once I saw him land a large and handsome "speckled
trout," to the unmistakable envy of his brother anglers. Still a third
was a younger man, with a broad-brimmed straw hat and a taciturn habit;
no less persevering than Number Two, perhaps, but far less successful. I
marveled a little at their enthusiasm (there were many beside these),
and they, in their turn, did not altogether conceal their amusement at
the foibles of a man, still out of Bedlam, who walked and walked and
walked, always with a field-glass protruding from his side pocket, which
now and then he pulled out suddenly and leveled at nothing. It is one of
the merciful ameliorations of this present evil world that men are thus
mutually entertaining.

These anglers were to be congratulated. Ordered South by their
physicians,--as most of them undoubtedly were,--compelled to spend the
winter away from friends and business, amid all the discomforts of
Southern hotels, they were happy in having at least one thing which they
loved to do. Blessed is the invalid who has an outdoor hobby. One man,
whom I met more than once in my beach rambles, seemed to devote himself
to bathing, running, and walking. He looked like an athlete; I heard him
tell how far he could run without getting "winded;" and as he sprinted
up and down the sand in his scanty bathing costume, I always found him a
pleasing spectacle. Another runner there gave