In a recent winter fifty-seven schooners were lost on the New England coast, most of which were unfit for anything but summer breezes.

As by a miracle, others have been able to renew their youth, to replace spongy planking and rotten stems, and to deck themselves out in white canvas and fresh paint! The captains of these craft foregather in the ship-chandler's shops, where the floor is strewn with sawdust, the armchairs are capacious, and the environment harmonizes with the tales that are told.

It is an informal club of coastwise skippers and the old energy begins to show itself once more.

They move with a brisker gait than when times were so hard and they went begging for charters at any terms.

A sinewy patriarch stumps to a window, flourishes his arm at an ancient two-master, and booms out: "That vessel of mine is as sound as a nut, I tell ye.