half-fisherman, half-farmer life seems very favorable to
manliness. I like to talk with the fishermen; they are not
boorish, not limited, but keen-eyed, and of a certain rude
gentleness. Two or three days ago I saw the sweetest picture.
There is a very tall rock, one of the natural pulpits, at one
end of the beach. As I approached, I beheld a young fisherman
with his little girl; he had nestled her into a hollow of the
rock, and was standing before her, with his arms round her,
and looking up in her face. Never was anything so pretty. I
stood and stared, country fashion; and presently he scrambled
up to the very top with her in his arms. She screamed a little
as they went, but when they were fairly up on the crest of the
rock, she chuckled, and stretched her tiny hand over his neck,
to go still further. Yet, when she found he did not wish it,
she leaned against his shoulder, and he sat, feeling himself
in the child like that exquisite Madonna, and looking out over
the great sea. Surely, the "kindred points of heaven and home"
were known in his breast, whatever guise they might assume.
'The sea is not always lovely and bounteous, though generally,
since we have been here, she has beamed her bluest. The night
of the full moon we staid out on the far rocks. The afternoon
was fair: the sun set nobly, wrapped in a violet mantle,
which he left to the moon, in parting. She not only rose red,
lowering, and of impatient attitude, but kept hiding her head
all the evening with an angry, struggling movement. ----
said, "This is not Dian;" and I replied, "No; now we see the
Hecate." But the damp, cold wind came sobbing, and the waves
began wailing, too, till I was seized with a feeling of
terror, such as I never had before, even in the darkest, and
most treacherous, rustling wood. The moon seemed sternly to
give me up to the daemons of the rock, and the waves to mourn
a tragic chorus, till I felt their cold grasp. I suffered
so much, that I feared we should never get home without some
fatal catastrophe. Never was I more relieved than when, as we
came up the hill, the moon suddenly shone forth. It was ten
o'clock, and here every human sound is hushed, and lamp put
out at that hour. How tenderly the grapes and tall corn-ears
glistened and nodded! and the trees stretched out their
|