"You shall have one," he said,--"when my ship comes in." I had never heard of the ship before--had never known that my father owned so much as a rowboat. But he had said it himself--I was to have a velocipede "when his ship came in." I tried to find out how soon he expected her, and where she was coming from. But he was hurrying away to take the train which carried him each day to the city, and I could get no particulars about his ship. He laughed, waved his hand, and was gone. This left me rather dissatisfied, but I reflected, as I strolled around the veranda, that it was a good thing I had heard about this ship while we were living at the seashore. At home there was less opportunity to watch for ships. Here I saw dozens of them every day. Sometimes there would not be one in sight when I went to bed, but in the morning seven or eight would ride at anchor a mile or more from the beach. Great steamers passed along, leaving a trail of smoke behind, and once or twice I had seen dainty yachts, glittering with white paint and polished brass. Then heavy barges would go slowly by, pulled by puffing tugs. I had been told that they were loaded with coal, and I hoped that my father's ship was not one of them. If there was a velocipede for me on a barge, it would get black and sooty. I much preferred to have it come by one of the yachts--or, wait a moment--once there had swept by a fine three-masted schooner, her hull painted white and all her sails set. She was a beauty, and she looked big enough to sail around, the world by herself. The yachts could hardly do that. I decided that I would rather have my father's ship turn out to be a schooner like that white one. By the time I had reached this decision I had come to the water's edge. It was a warm morning, and the sun, three or four hours high, sparkled on the ocean. The waves broke, ran hissing up the beach, and retreated, leaving hundreds of little bubbling holes in the sand. I knew these holes--they were the dwellings of sand-fleas, who now were in a fair way of getting drowned out. Farther up the beach, out of danger from the waves, I came upon a large sand-flea hopping along energetically. I sat down to head him off, and find what he was about. With his hard-shelled and rounded back he looked like a small model of some prehistoric and armored monster--only he had two very mild blue eyes. As soon as I tried to intercept him with a piece of dried marsh-grass he put his head down and dug so vigorously that he was soon covered with sand. His disappearance left me alone. It was a lonely place, that beach, for the peanut-man and the merry-go-round had not discovered it, and its only inhabitants were a few cottagers, like our family, and the fishermen. But I did not miss the crowd. A few minutes' walk farther down the beach brought me to a point of sand that ran out into the ocean for fifty or sixty yards at low tide. At the end it curved around and enclosed a small salt-water pond.