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The Swampscott fishermen still relate How a strange sea-monster stole thair bait; How their nets were tangled in loops and knots, And they found dead crabs in their lobster-pots. Poor Danvers grieved for her blasted crops, And Wilmington mourned over mildewed hops. A blight played havoc with Beverly beans, It was all the work of those hateful queans!
We had put ourselves upon a great line of travel, and had only to resign ourselves to its flow in order to reach the desired haven. The agent at the wharf assured us that it was not necessary to buy through tickets to Baddeck, he spoke of it as if it were as easy a place to find as Swampscott, it was a conspicuous name on the cards of the company, we should go right on from St.
I suppose he'll have to take a vacation somewhere. Young men are so unreasonable nowadays. Imagine me at his age kiting off to the seashore." "Why, I'm sure," returned Miss Martha with some consciousness, "we used to enjoy those drives to Swampscott very much." "Another incarnation.
'Rion craftily went on: "Look what a number of things have happened since he put this derned schooner into commission. We broke an anchor chain in Paulmouth Harbor, didn't we? And the old mud hook lies there to this day. Did you ever see so many halyards snap in your life, and in just a capful of wind? Didn't we have a tops'l carried away clean in that squall off Swampscott?
Most refreshing of all, perhaps, was an occasional patch of bright green grass, like the one already spoken of, at Marblehead, or like one even brighter and prettier, which I visited more than once in Swampscott. As I review what I have written, I am tempted to exclaim with Tennyson: "And was the day of my delight As pure and perfect as I say?" But I answer, in all good conscience, yes.
We had put ourselves upon a great line of travel, and had only to resign ourselves to its flow in order to reach the desired haven. The agent at the wharf assured us that it was not necessary to buy through tickets to Baddeck, he spoke of it as if it were as easy a place to find as Swampscott, it was a conspicuous name on the cards of the company, we should go right on from St.
As a good example of an even more disappointing type of chronological histories we may take the History of Lynn, including Lynnfield, Saugus, Swampscott, and Nahant, by Alonzo Lewis and James R. Newhall, an octavo of six hundred and twenty pages, published in 1865.
He walked slowly to his club, where a friend joked him on his glumness. Lin made a sore failure of amusing himself that night; and in the bright, hot morning he got into the train for Swampscott. At the graveyard he saw a woman lay a bunch of flowers on a mound and kneel, weeping.
I was then outside Swampscott Bay, about eight miles from land. The shore was plainly visible, with the buildings dotted along like specks of white, and the outlying reefs showing by the sparkle of the foam upon them. Phillips's Beach, and the island called by the romantic name of Ram, were now opposite.
McLean, says I to Lin, 'can yu' spare me some cash? 'Why, to be sure, you bet! And we'll start off with steamed Duxbury clams." The cow-puncher slapped his pocket, where the coin made a muffled chinking. Then he said, gruffly, "I suppose Swampscott's there yet?" "Yes," said Frank. "It's a dead little town, is Swampscott." "I guess I'll take a look at the old house tomorrow," Lin pursued.
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