There are small windows here and there, high up in the walls, and now and again a sheet or a towel is hung out to dry, a picturesque object enough against a mass of building; and from above the wall of a yard a number of poles, leaning in the corner, project and break the monotony of the surface. It lies right inside the harbour, and every time the tide goes down it leaves a certain quantity of semi-decomposed objects to scent the atmosphere of this special spot. Then again, what is far worse, there are small square openings here and there in the wall and from these there trickle continuously the contents of many washtubs and slop-pails. Yet here it is that a group of children come whenever the tide allows, to play their quiet games—quiet, for they never run about or make much noise, but seem happiest crawling on hands and knees, or squatting in a circle and playing with the garbage and refuse which has stranded there. [Sidenote: Treasure Trove.] This is doubtless the attraction; the beauties of the scene evidently never occur to them at all, the evil smells affect them not. But there are new playthings there continually. As the water recedes fresh treasures day by day are left upon the shiny floor—half sand, half mud—of their playground. What opportunities for their invention and imagination! Yesterday there were two small dead crabs, a broken saucer, and an empty sardine box; to-day’s chief items are the wicker end of a worn-out lobster-pot, a bit of rope, and a whole quantity of mussel shells which have been thrown away after the baiting of a long line. What endless games are played with these materials! First of all the shells are pushed into the sand squares, making little gardens, which are duly furnished with bits of green seaweed. To them comes a small market woman carrying the fragment of wicker-work in which she places the green stuff she purchases and pays for with pebbles, the bit of rope being used to sling the laden basket on her bent back, as she walks off to market under the heavy load. [Sidenote: Another Game of Shop.] Then the shells are hurriedly gathered up, and baby is established with her back against the wall, and in front of her the total accumulation of odds and ends is arranged in lots, each one marked off by a line drawn in the sand, and then the children come to buy at baby’s shop—a matter of huge delight to the shopkeeper, who distributes her goods rashly and impulsively, and is evidently bored at being made to receive payment! But an end comes at last: a voice is heard shouting, baby is lifted up on to the first step again, and all the little bare legs and ruddy feet go scampering off to tea! [Sidenote: Playing at Being Grown Up.]