i 3 6 FROM SPRING TO FALL. 



tide was out. It had been one of those Indian 

 summer sort of days which we are at times favoured 

 with before the leaves actually begin to fall. Fowls 

 were about, hen-footed fowl, waders, telling that 

 autumn had come. As the light flashed out from 

 the masses of purple and gold clouds hanging low 

 over the water, brilliant flashes of rainbow hues 

 showed on the sea for a few moments, then faded 

 away again into sober grey. The only signs of life 

 were a couple of fowlers with their dog, coming 

 over the sand-dunes to set their flight-nets on the 

 sands. They belonged to a class almost passed away 

 now — men who never said more than was necessary 

 at any time, and what they did say could be relied 

 on, their motto being "speak the truth and shame 

 the devil." Whether one of the two had ever 

 shamed the Prince of Darkness or not, I am unable 

 to say; but one thing I do know, he had by his 

 manner of plain speaking shamed a certain class 

 in his time, for when excited he was a bad nut to 

 try and crack. 



" 'Tis a fine night for the nets, Spanker, ain't 

 it?" 



"Ah, Reef, ye may well say so, but somehow, 



