Domestic fiction; Short stories; Suburban life -- Fiction
I suppose that these were not very remarkable people, and that nothing
but the indomitable interest our friends took in the human race could
have enabled them to feel any concern in their companions. It was,
no doubt, just such a company as goes down to Nantasket Beach every
pleasant day in summer. Certain ones among them were distinguishable as
sojourners at the beach, by an air of familiarity with the business of
getting there, an indifference to the prospect, and an indefinable touch
of superiority. These read their newspapers in quiet corners, or, if
they were not of the newspaper sex, made themselves comfortable in the
cabins, and looked about them at the other passengers with looks of
lazy surprise, and just a hint of scorn for their interest in the boat's
departure. Our day's pleasurers took it that the lady whose steady gaze
had reduced them, when at lunch, to such a low ebb of shabbiness, was a
regular boarder, at the least, in one of the beach hotels. A few other
passengers were, like themselves, mere idlers for a day, and were eager
to see all that the boat or the voyage offered of novelty. There were
clerks and men who had book-keeping written in a neat mercantile hand
upon their faces, and who had evidently been given that afternoon for
a breathing-time; and there were strangers who were going down to the
beach for the sake of the charming view of the harbor which the trip
afforded. Here and there were people who were not to be classed with any
certainty,--as a pale young man, handsome in his undesirable way, who
looked like a steamboat pantry boy not yet risen to be bar-tender, but
rapidly rising, and who sat carefully balanced upon the railing of the
boat, chatting with two young girls, who heard his broad sallies with
continual snickers, and interchanged saucy comments with that prompt
up-and-coming manner which is so large a part of non-humorous humor, as
Mr. Lowell calls it, and now and then pulled and pushed each other. It
was a scene worth study, for in no other country could anything so bad
have been without being vastly worse; but here it was evident that there
was nothing worse than you saw; and, indeed, these persons formed a
sort of relief to the other passengers, who were nearly all monotonously
well-behaved. Amongst a few there seemed to be acquaintance, but the far
greater part were unknown to one another, and there were no words wasted
by any one. I believe the English traveller who has taxed our nation
with inquisitiveness for half a century is at last beginning to find
out that we do not ask questions because we have the still more vicious
custom of not opening our mouths at all when with strangers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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