us, was the walk--now on the brow of the
steep cliff, looking down on the water or on little bays of shingle,
now through bits of thicket that held out brambles to entangle the long
tresses streaming on their shoulders; always in the brisk morning air,
that filled them with strength and spirit, laughing, joking, calling
to one another and to Conrade's little dog, that, like every other
creature, had attached itself to Bessie, and had followed her from
Myrtlewood that morning, to the vexation of Rachel, who had no love for
dogs in their early youth.

They were beyond the grounds of the Homestead, but had to go a little
further to get into the path, when they paused above a sort of dip or
amphitheatre of rock around a little bay, whilst Rachel began telling
of the smugglers' traditions that haunted the place--how much brandy and
silk had there been landed in the time of the great French war, and how
once, when hard pressed, a party of smugglers, taking a short cut in
the moonlight midnight across the Homestead gardens, had encountered an
escaped Guinea-pig, and no doubt taking it for the very rat without a
tail, in whose person Macbeth's witch was to do, and to do, and to do,
had been nearly scared out of their wits.

Her story was cut short by a cry of distress from the dog, and looking
down, they perceived that the poor fellow had been creeping about the
rocks, and had descended to the little cove, whence he was incapable
of climbing up again. They called encouragingly, and pretended to move
away, but he only moaned more despairingly, and leapt in vain.

"He has hurt his foot!" exclaimed Rachel; "I must go down after him.
Yes, Don, yes, poor fellow, I'm coming."

"My dear Curtia, don't leap into the gulf!"

"Oh, it's no great height, and the tide will soon fill up this place."

"Don't! don't! You'll never be able to get up again."

But Rachel was already scrambling down, and, in effect, she was
sure-footed and used to her own crags, nor was the distance much above
thirty foot, so that she was soon safe on the shingle, to the extreme
relief of poor Don, shown by grateful whines; but he was still evidently
in pain, and Rachel thought his leg was broken. And how to get up the
rock, with a spaniel that when she tried to lift it became apparently
twice the size she had always believed it to be, and where both hands as
well as feet were required, with the sea fast advancing too?

"My dear Rachel, you will only break y