120 STUDIES OF NATURE 



heavens are flushed with crimson just as we 

 come in front of Arran. 



And now we strain our eyes to catch, if we 

 may, the white house on the shore. It is im- 

 possible ; but what matter, the heart reaches 

 it, if the eye cannot ; and I croon over to my- 

 self those delightful lines with which dear old 

 Titmarsh concludes his poem of ' The White 

 Squall ' - 



And as the sunrise splendid 



Came blushing o'er the sea, 

 I thought as day was breaking, 

 My little girls were waking, 

 And smiling, and making 



A prayer at home for me. 



