hat street
was rather of hope than of memory. Bailiff Hopkins had taken out
three latticed windows, and put in one grand one of plate-glass, with
"finishing" blinds all varnished. And even on a Sunday morning Bruntsea
wanted to know what ever the bailiff was at behind them. Some said that
he did all his pickling on a Sunday; and by putting up "spectacle glass"
he had challenged the oldest inhabitant to come and try his focus.

Despite all the rattle and roar of the wind, we went on in church
as usual. The vicar had a stout young curate from Durham, who could
outshout any tempest, with a good stone wall between them; and the
Bruntsea folk were of thicker constitution than to care an old hat for
the weather. Whatever was "sent by the Lord" they took with a grumble,
but no excitement. The clock in front of the gallery told the time
of the day as five minutes to twelve, when the vicar, a pleasant
old-fashioned man, pronounced his text, which he always did thrice over
to make us sure of it. And then he hitched up his old black gown, and
directed his gaze at the lord of the manor, to impress the whole church
with authority. Major Hockin acknowledged in a proper manner this
courtesy of the minister by rubbing up his crest, and looking even more
wide-awake than usual; whereas Aunt Mary, whose kind heart longed to
see her own son in that pulpit, calmly settled back her shoulders, and
arranged her head and eyes so well as to seem at a distance in rapt
attention, while having a nice little dream of her own. But suddenly all
was broken up. The sexton (whose license as warden of the church, and
even whose duty it was to hear the sermon only fitfully, from the tower
arch, where he watched the boys, and sniffed the bakehouse of his own
dinner)--to the consternation of every body, this faithful man ran up
the nave, with his hands above his head, and shouted,

"All Brownzee be awash, awash"--sounding it so as to rhyme with
"lash"--"the zea, the zea be all over us!"

The clergyman in the pulpit turned and looked through a window behind
him, while all the congregation rose.

"It is too true," the preacher cried; "the sea is in over the bank, my
friends. Every man must rush to his own home. The blessing of the Lord
be on you through His fearful visitation!"

He had no time to say more; and we thought it very brave of him to say
that, for his own house was in the lower village, and there he had a
wife and children sick. In half a minut