MY DOG, SLOP. 239 



for — the thought and suspense and anticipation were 

 torturing. 



" I well remember the horrible fascination of watching 

 the water rising inch by inch, creeping, with a cruel, 

 slow persistency, higher and higher every moment. I 

 remember thinking of the Martyr maiden — 



' Margaret, virgin daughter of the Ocean wave ' — 



bound to a stake, and left to perish by the flowing 

 tide. This and other dismal pictures of the imagina- 

 tion would, spite of all my efforts, force themselves 

 upon my mind. It was the very Valley of the Shadow 

 of Death through which I was passing! Then thoughts 

 and memories of another kind — of the home and friends 

 I should never see more — thoughts too of a more 

 solemn kind, bearing upon the future which comes 

 after death — reflections, retrospections, regrets, hopes, 

 prayers, came thick and fast. Anon my reverie was 

 interrupted. As I sat there, silent and motionless as 

 the rock itself, a cormorant rose from beneath the 

 water close by, and made for the Skerry, with the 

 evident intention of coming to rest upon it. Catching 

 sight of me when only a few feet off, he instantly 

 dived with a splash. How I envied him ! Me was 

 at home in the water ; and I — oh, fool, fool, to have 

 neglected the art of swimming ! 



" Thus two and a half long hours slipped past ; long 

 they seemed — almost a lifetime — and yet all too short. 

 The tide was rapidly rising. Only a small space of 

 the topmost point of the rock now remained above 



