THE -VVOXDEnS OF THE SHORE. 129 



sermons, not indeed in stones, but in a creatiu'e 

 reputed among the most worthless of sea-vermin. 

 I had been lounging about all the morning on 

 the little pier, waiting, with the rest of the 

 village, for a trawling breeze which would not 

 come. Two o'clock was past, and still the red 

 mainsails of the skiffs hung motionless, and 

 their images quivered head downwards in the 

 glassy swell, 



"As idle as a painted ship 

 Upon a painted ocean." 



It Avas neap-tide, too, and therefore nothing could 

 be done among the rocks. So, in despair, findino- 

 an old coast-guard friend starting for his lobster- 

 pots, I determined to save the old man's arms, by 

 rowing liim up tlie sliore ; and then paddled home- 

 ward again, under tliu Iiigh green northern Mall. 

 five hundred feet of cliff furred (u the water's 

 edge with rich oak woods, against wliose base 

 the smooth Atlantic swell died whi.spering, as if 

 curling itself up to sleep at last witliin that 

 sheltered nook, tired with ils weary wanderinf's. 

 The sun sank lower atid hnver behind the deer- 

 park point ; the white stair of houses up the 

 glen was wrapt every moment deeper and deeper 

 in hazy smoke and .shade, as the light faded; 

 9 



