TWO WOMEN ON THE BEACH

South Canterbury Times, Issue 2361, 11 October 1880, Page 3

TWO WOMEN ON THE BEACH

Kind reader, didst ever see two women bathe ? They emerge from their bathhouse looking as though they had stolen something and expected to see a burly policeman boh round tho corner, clap his hands upon them and exultingly cry “ Now I’ve got you,” Then they trip along adozen steps, not altogether like a Dundreary or sand-piper, but somewhat resembling both. Then one saj r s, “Oh dear ! ” and reaches down to pick a pebble out of her shoe, while the other takes the opportunity to yell like a pair of panthers and run back with all her might to the bath house. Her mate of course, doesn’t get the pebble out of her shoe, but gets several more in to keep it from getting lonesome. Then the screamer tiptoes down to the place and says, “What a fool I was!” The other comes down, having secured a new invoice of pebbles in transit, and screams ‘ What is it ?’ As it is nothing but a devil’s apronstring and not a snake, the screamer again says, ; What a fool !’ They then laugh. But they keep their eyes about them, and each mouth is always ready to emit a scream. By this time they have reached the water’s edge. A puny roller is advancing. It breaks a little way out, and as the line of foam is sent up the beach they turn and scamper with all their might. Then one says, ‘ What a fool ! And the other replies, ‘ I know it ! Then they take hold of hands, determined to do or die. Another wave makes them flinch and tremble and scream just a little, but they keep on till the water reaches to what would be their knees if they were men. Now they face each other, each holding the two hands of the other. Anybody who has seen the firemen at work on a hand-engine will understand the motion readily. They keep this up for five or ton minutes, talking like a brace of parrots all the time, till one of them screams with all her might and runs half-way to the bath house. She stops to remark that she will die, and looking down sees the cause of her scare a blade of eel-grass tightly wound round her ankle. Spunking up courage again, they seek the water once more, and again the band-engine manoeuvre is repeated. Then one of them, whispers “There’s a man!” And the other says “I don’t care one bit,” and runs with all her might to the bath-house. Then the one who has seen the man saunters after, picking up a shell or two on the way, pretending to think there isn’t such a thing as a man in creation. By-and-by they emerge from the bath-house, and ostentatiously display the key, towels and bathing-dresses, chatting in a most voluble manner. ‘lt was just lovely’ one remarks. And the other she feels so refreshed, you know.” —New Haven Union.