! It frightened him so much that he rushed
dripping wet to Neighbor Nelly, and jumped into her lap, squealing
dismally. Such a perfect shower-bath of cold salt water as rained all
over her pretty muslin dress, and trim little gaiters and stockings! We
had to shake her well, and put Gipsey to bed on a sandhill near us,
where he went to sleep, and, I hope, forgot his miseries.

Perhaps you don't know it, but the sand is a famous place to write your
name. You go as near the retreating wave as you dare, and then, with a
walking stick or an umbrella, or your finger, if nothing better is to be
had, write your name, or draw a hideous spook on the wet sand. You have
to be quick about it, too; for just as you are putting the finishing
touches to the work, another great billow is sure to come tearing at
you, with a wide, deep hollow of emerald green, and foaming crest,
looking like molten silver in the moonlight. Crash! it falls on the
beach; and a long rush of foam slides up the sand as you scamper out of
reach, not always without a wet shoe or two. Now the water has all run
back, but where is the writing? The sand is smooth once more, and ready,
like a great blackboard, to be marked on anew. So the sea is always
clearing your writing book for you, and giving you a chance to begin
again and see how long it will last!

I should think we wrote "Nelly," "Jimmy," and "Neighbor Oldbird," about
fifty times each on the sand, with my walking stick; and then we "hung
Jeff. Davis on a sour apple tree," and depicted him with Old Spookey
coming after him, and told the Atlantic Ocean, "We like blue fish," and
"We're going in bathing Monday," and never succeeded in keeping one of
our achievements more than half a minute.

We stayed down on the delightful beach until nearly half-past nine; and,
dear me, what a heap of sand we got in our shoes! It was quite wonderful
how it contrived to work its way in; but there it was, making us lift up
our feet as heavily as though we had cannon balls tied to our ankles.

But it was getting late, and high time for small people to be off to
bed; so, with a shake of the hand from one of my little neighbors, and a
"good kiss" from the other, I don't say _which_, Gipsey was waked up,
and they all trotted off together.

Next morning was Sunday, and a beautiful sunshiny day. The first thing I
did when I woke up, was to pop my head out of the window and take a look
at the ocean. There it was, as beautiful as ev