day when the elms and magnolias above them were puny
saplings. Even a huge pecan tree, twenty-one feet around, whose
planting was recorded in the "plantation book" over a century ago, is
considered rather a new-comer by the ancient family of English
cowslips.

Here is restful permanence in this world of restless change. Loved ones
may pass away, friends may fail, neighbours may come and go; but here
in the quiet old garden, the dear flower faces that look up to cheer
are the same that have given heart and comfort to generations so remote
that they lie half-forgotten beneath gray, crumbling stones with quaint
time-dimmed inscriptions.

CHAPTER XII

HARBOUR DAYS AND A FOGGY NIGHT

Day after day, we lay in our beautiful harbour of Chippoak Creek as the
last of the summer-time went by and as autumn began to fly her bright
signal flags in the trees along the shore.

Sometimes we moored in the little depression that Nature had scooped
out for us close by the Brandon woods; sometimes we scrambled out from
it at high tide and went across and cast anchor by the Claremont shore.
Now and then we would go for a run up the creek, or out for a while on
the broad James.

It is well to stay in a pretty harbour long enough to get acquainted
with it. By the time we could tell the stage of the tide by a glance at
the lily pads, and could get in and out over the flats in the dark, and
could go right to the deep place in Brandon cove without sounding, we
had learned where the late wild flowers grew, that the washing would
get scorched on one side of the creek and lost on the other, that the
best place for fishing was around behind the island, and that the
Claremont "butcher" had fresh meat on Tuesdays and Fridays.

Gradually, our neighbours of marsh and woodland lost their shyness, and
some of them paid us the compliment of simply ignoring us. Most of the
blue herons flew high or curved widely past Gadabout--long necks
stretched straight before, long legs stretched straight behind. But the
Tragedian (he was the longest and the lankest) minded us not at all. At
the last of the ebb, a snag over near the shore would suddenly add on
another angle and jab down in the water, coming up again with a shiver
and a fish. Then, it would approach the houseboat and stalk the waters
beside our windows. The stage stride of the creature won for it the
name of the Tragedian. Knowing the shyness of his kind we felt
especially pleased by a st