{"product_id":"2940013761841","title":"How to be a Hermit","description":"All was excitement that June morning among the clams of Jones's Island\u003cbr\u003e(pronounced, by your leave, in two good healthy syllables, thus:\u003cbr\u003eJone'-zez). Softies by the bushel dug themselves deeper into the\u003cbr\u003eshoreward mud, and whimpering little quahogs out in their watery beds\u003cbr\u003eclung closer to their mothers as they heard the dread news relayed by\u003cbr\u003etheir kinsfolk of Seaman's Neck, Black Banks Channel, Johnson's Flats\u003cbr\u003eand High Hill Crick. To say that uneasiness pervaded the community would\u003cbr\u003ebe putting it far too mildly. Those clams were scared plumb out of a\u003cbr\u003eweek's growth; which, as the clam flies, is a lot of growth. In a word,\u003cbr\u003epanic reigned, if not pandemonium.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd well it might, for the scouts along the meadows, the deep water\u003cbr\u003eobservers and the liaison officers on the sandbars had forwarded marine\u003cbr\u003eintelligence of no mean importance. As one clam they reported the swift\u003cbr\u003eapproach by rowboat across Great South Bay of a sinister stranger, by\u003cbr\u003eevery sign a very devil for chowder, raging and roaring in the throes of\u003cbr\u003estarvation and flying the strange device, \"Jones's Island or Bust!\" Yes,\u003cbr\u003edownright terror gripped even the hardest of the clams. \"He ought to be\u003cbr\u003ehere at any moment!\" shuddered a visiting cherry-stone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd see! Even now the hellish bark rounds Hawkins's Point, splashes its\u003cbr\u003edesperate way through the shallows and crashes into Savage's Dock with a\u003cbr\u003esickening thud, hurling the oarsman from his position amidships to a\u003cbr\u003epoint which may be defined as galley-west. Dizzily the skipper regains\u003cbr\u003ehis feet, and as he rises to the general view his singular and touching\u003cbr\u003eappearance sends thrills of relief up and down the calcareous shells of\u003cbr\u003ethe bivalves still on watch. Dame Rumor is wrong again! Here is no demon\u003cbr\u003ewith murder in his heart. Here is no devil incarnate. For there in the\u003cbr\u003efull sunshine, the cynosure of every clam, he weeps, the stranger weeps.\u003cbr\u003eAnon, he sneezes, and again his eyes drip blinding tears. 'Tis plain\u003cbr\u003esome nobler grief than the want of a square meal is bothering this chap.\u003cbr\u003eAll told, it was pretty pathetic.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe sorrowful newcomer seemed, truly, a man distrait, as he stood there\u003cbr\u003esniffling and snorting into his red bandanna, uttering violent and\u003cbr\u003ewicked words, shaking his free fist at nothing in particular and\u003cbr\u003ebehaving generally as one bereft of all earthly solace and the greater\u003cbr\u003epart of the cerebellum. (But don't get too much worked up about this,\u003cbr\u003edear reader; it turns out in a minute that it was only me, arriving at\u003cbr\u003eJones's Island with my rose cold.) Ever and again he moved as though to\u003cbr\u003ecast himself and his afflictions into a low tide puddle, always he drew\u003cbr\u003eback in time. Then, extracting a small compass from his pocket, he made\u003cbr\u003ea few rapid calculations and, tossing a stray lock from a thoughtful\u003cbr\u003ebrow, began running due South. And as he ran, he wept; and weeping,\u003cbr\u003esneezed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSome furlongs on his way, about where he would catch sight of something\u003cbr\u003eblue and wonderful between the beach hills, he was heard to shout,\u003cbr\u003e\"_Thalassa! Thalassa!_\" which is as much as to say in plain English,\u003cbr\u003e\"The sea!\" and repeat. \"_Eureka!_\" he cried\u003cbr\u003enext--\"_Excelsior!_\"--\"_Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres!_\" So,\u003cbr\u003enaturally, the clams, after thinking it over, decided that he was\u003cbr\u003eperfectly harmless. Each happy shellfish, according to his individual\u003cbr\u003elights, sank back into a sort of nervous lethargy or went about his own\u003cbr\u003eor his neighbor's business, forgetting as best he could the horrid\u003cbr\u003ethreat of a clambake. \"I told you there was not the slightest danger,\"\u003cbr\u003esquizzed the visiting cherry-stone. \"He's only another goof come to look\u003cbr\u003eat the ocean--probably a typical New Yorker,\" he added, tapping his\u003cbr\u003eforehead significantly. Whereupon he and the other clams, like the\u003cbr\u003esolitary horseman in novels, only rather more clammily, disappeared\u003cbr\u003efrom the picture. I'm afraid I had ruined their day.","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47145777463536,"sku":"2940013761841","price":2.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013761841_p0.jpg?v=1763598677","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013761841","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}