Ill 



A COUNTRY LANE: A MEMORY 

 FROM ABROAD 



I WAS looking at a vision of the world upside down, 

 mirrored in the deep blue of a still sea. Where the 

 inverted picture of my boat gleamed white, and the 

 rope that moored her to a tree showed grey, I saw the 

 dark fir trees growing upside down, the bank of emerald 

 grass looking more brilliant because of the grey-green 

 lichened rocks ; a black rock, glistening, hung with 

 brown seaweed, made the vision clear, and, over all, 

 clouds chased each other in the sky, seemingly below 

 me. They were those round fleecy clouds, like sheep, 

 and they reminded me of something I could not quite 

 arrest. 



A fish swam dash across my mirror, another and 

 another, rippling the sky, the trees, the bank, distorting 

 everything. Then I looked up and saw a fishing- 

 boat come sailing by with its great orange and 

 tawny sails all set out to catch the land breeze ; and 

 bright blue nets hung out ready, floating and billowing 

 in the slight wind. There was a creaking of ropes 

 and a hum of Breton as the sailors talked. From my 

 moorings by the island I watched her sail Saint Nicholas 

 she was called, and had a little figure of the Madonna 

 on her stern. Out of the land-locked harbour she 

 slipped, tacking to make the neck that led to the outer 

 harbour, and there she was going to meet other gaily 



18 



