the rocky shore.

Elizabeth's vision was clearer than even love could make her
mother's,--clearer than music made her father's; since a distinct
conception of images seems not to be inevitable among the image-makers.
The prophets are not always to be called upon for an interpretation. No
white angel ever floats more clearly before the eyes of those who look
on the sculptor's finished work than before the eyes of Elizabeth
appeared the shapes and hues of sounds which swept in gay or solemn
procession through the windings of her father's horn, floating over the
blue water, dissolving as the mist. No bright-winged bird, fair flower,
or gorgeous sunset or sea-wave, was more distinct to the child's eyes
than the hues of the same notes, stately as palm or pine,--red as
crimson, white as wool, rich and full as violet, softly compelling as
amethyst.

Pauline Montier was by nature as active and diligent as Adolphus. She
was a seamstress before the days of Foray and the Drummer, and still
continued to ply her needle, though no longer urged by necessity. She
sewed for the officers' wives, she knit stockings and mufflers for the
soldiers. The income thus derived independently of Montier's public
service was very considerable.

Born of such parents, Elizabeth would have had some difficulty in
persuading herself that her business was to idle through this life.

Her early experiences were not as peaceful as those which followed her
tenth year. The noise of battle, the cries of defeat, the shouts of
victory, the sight of agonized faces, the vision of death, the
struggles of pain and anguish, the sorrow of bereavement,--she had seen
all with those young eyes. She had heard the whispered command in
hushed moments of mortal danger, and the shout of triumph--in the
tumult of victory,--had watched blazing ships, seen prisoners carried
to their cells, attended the burial of brave men slain in battle, had
marched with soldiers keeping time to funeral strains. Her courage and
her pity had been stirred in years when she could do no more than see
and hear. Once standing, through the heat of a bloody engagement, by
the side of a lad, a corporal's son, who was stationed to receive and
communicate an order, a random shot struck the boy down at her side.
She saw that he was dead,--waited for the order, transmitted it, and
then carried away the lifeless body of her fellow-sentinel, staggering
under the weighty burden, never resting till she had