THE WONDERS OF THE SHOKE. 161 



would not come. Two o'clock was past, and still the 

 red mainsails of the skiffs liimg motionless, and their 

 images quivered held downwards in the glassy swell, 



" As idle as a painted ship 

 Upon a painted ocean." 



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

 be done among the rocks. So, in despair, finding an 

 old coast-guard friend starting for his lobster-pots, I 

 determined to save the old man's arms, by rowing 

 him up the shore ; and then paddled homeward 

 again, under the high green northern wall, five hun- 

 dred feet of cliff furred to the water's edge with rich 

 oak woods, against whose base the smooth Atlantic 

 swell died whispering, as if curling itself up to sleep 

 at last within that sheltered nook, tired with its 

 weary wanderings. The sun sank lower and lower 

 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 ; 

 the evening fires were lighted one by one ; the soft 

 murmur of the waterfall, and the pleasant laugh of 

 children, and the splash of homeward oars, came 



