her as of my mother's God.

I began to wish most heartily that I had chosen some other spot for my
picture. But it was working out so well that I felt it would be a great
mistake to change, and I hoped that the individual, man, woman, or
child, who had been making that horrible noise might find some other
employment to-morrow, and might leave me in peace.

The next day my wishes were fulfilled, for I was not disturbed, and very
little happened except that my picture made progress. Then came two wet
days, on which I had to paint in my little chamber, and did not get back
to my seat under the wall.

I saw a good deal of Duncan during those wet days. He would come and sit
beside me as I painted, and would tell me stories of storms and
shipwrecks, and of the different times when the lifeboat had been sent
out, and of the many lives she had saved.

'Have ye seen her, sir? You must go and have a look at our boat; she
lies in a house down by the shore, as trim and tight a little boat as
you could wish to see anywhere!'

'I suppose you've been in many a storm yourself,
Duncan,' I said.

'Storms, sir! I've very near lived in them ever since I was born. Many
and many's the time I've never expected to see land again. I didn't care
so much when I was a young chap. You see, my father and mother were
dead, and if I went to the bottom there was nobody, as you might say, to
feel it; but it's different now, sir, you see.'

'Yes,' I said, 'there's Polly and little John.'

'That's just where it is, sir, Polly and little John, bless 'em; and all
the time the wind's raging, and the waves is coming right over the boat,
I'm thinking of my poor lass at home, and how every gust of wind will be
sweeping right over her heart, and how she'll be kneeling by little
John's bed, praying God to bring his daddy safe home again. And I know,
sir, as well as I know anything, that when God Almighty hears and
answers her prayer, and brings me safe to land, Polly and little John
will be standing on yon rocks a-straining their eyes for the first sight
of the boats, and then a-running down almost into the water to welcome
me home again. Yes, it makes a sight o' difference to a married man,
sir; doesn't it, now? It isn't the dying, ye understand, it's the
leaving behind as I think of. I'm not afraid to die,' he added humbly
and reverently, as he took off his oilskin cap. 'I know whom I have
believed.'

'You're a plucky fellow, Duncan,' I said, 'to tal