who are said to tie lanterns to horses' tails to mislead the mariner
along the dangerous shores of the Cape.

Even now I seem to see the group of fishermen with that old salt in
the midst. One fellow sits on the counter, a second bestrides an
oil-barrel, a third lolls at his length on a parcel of new cod-lines,
and another has planted the tarry seat of his trousers on a heap of
salt which will shortly be sprinkled over a lot of fish. They are a
likely set of men. Some have voyaged to the East Indies or the
Pacific, and most of them have sailed in Marblehead schooners to
Newfoundland; a few have been no farther than the Middle Banks, and
one or two have always fished along the shore; but, as Uncle Parker
used to say, they have all been christened in salt water and know more
than men ever learn in the bushes. A curious figure, by way of
contrast, is a fish-dealer from far up-country listening with eyes
wide open to narratives that might startle Sinbad the Sailor.--Be it
well with you, my brethren! Ye are all gone--some to your graves
ashore and others to the depths of ocean--but my faith is strong that
ye are happy; for whenever I behold your forms, whether in dream or
vision, each departed friend is puffing his long nine, and a mug of
the right blackstrap goes round from lip to lip.

But where was the mermaid in those delightful times? At a certain
window near the centre of the village appeared a pretty display of
gingerbread men and horses, picture-books and ballads, small
fish-hooks, pins, needles, sugarplums and brass thimbles--articles on
which the young fishermen used to expend their money from pure
gallantry. What a picture was Susan behind the counter! A slender
maiden, though the child of rugged parents, she had the slimmest of
all waists, brown hair curling on her neck, and a complexion rather
pale except when the sea-breeze flushed it. A few freckles became
beauty-spots beneath her eyelids.--How was it, Susan, that you talked
and acted so carelessly, yet always for the best, doing whatever was
right in your own eyes, and never once doing wrong in mine, nor
shocked a taste that had been morbidly sensitive till now? And whence
had you that happiest gift of brightening every topic with an unsought
gayety, quiet but irresistible, so that even gloomy spirits felt your
sunshine and did not shrink from it? Nature wrought the charm. She
made you a frank, simple, kind-hearted, sensible and mirthful girl.
Obeying Natu