Year: 1874

al V do no Cdl1Su IL. ne WAS T6dlly
excellent landscape painter, but his de-
votion to his profession was very Sc
rious nuisance to those who had to
listen to his dissertations upon it. 1t
was necessary not only to admire what
he admired, but for the same identical
reasons; and it was even still more OBJ
ligatory to despise what he despised.
If lawyers talked of law, authors of
literature, or soldiers of war, in the
same vague yet dogmatic style in which
some painters speak of painting, con-
versation would become impossible.
Frank seldom escaped from his "shop,"
and he compelled you to take his goods
whether you would or not but when
he did escape, he was charming. Lucy
and he were the handsomest young
couple l have ever seen, and were de-
voted to one another, and to Baba.
Baba was their little boy, just four
years old, and their idol. 1 think they
would have allowed, too, that he had a
third worshiperin AuntSue. He always
accompanied us in our excursions, and
made the very prettiest figure conceiv-
able in the foreground for his faith
er's pictures. At home, too, on a wet
day, he was quite little treasure in his
way for he would sit or stand as still
as a mouse, while he was being "work-
ed in" on the canvas. A lay-fgure
such as painters use costs thirty pounds,
which was beyond Franks slender
purse, so that he was always to get a
sitter-a post which was no sinecure to
him who filled it. Even Aunt Sue was
pressed into the service occasionally,
and then it was: "Steady, steady
Don't blink your eyes so much-The
right arm little straighter- more
to the right-Throw little pleasanter
expression into the mouth, if you
please-Thank you"


My brother, the rector, was welcome
guest with his artist son, but always
averred that this was on account of his
own venerable appearance. "You can't
get lay. figure, my boy, so you must
put up with clerical one." They had
both very pleasant wit though, since
Lucy and [ were sometimes unable to
"see the joke" we were wont to de-
scribe it as too subtle. Our very dull
ness, however, was the occasion of mirth
with us and when we laughed, that
set Baba off, so that don't think there
was merrier party in North Devon
that summer than we four. It was all
the sadder for me when the blow sud-
denly fell upon us, of which I alone was
conscious, but which threatened to
cloud all this brightness in the shadow
of death.


The day, as have said, was hot and
steamy but in the evening the air be-
came delightful, and we all went down
as usual to enjoy it upon the breakwater
of the little harbor. Even then there
was not breath of wind, and though
the tide was up, not single one of all
the fishing-vessels had yet returned.
We saw the struggling feet making their
way home, indeed, but long distance
off, and they seemed to get no nearer :;
the broad blue sea was fecked with
their white sails, as the sky is some
times dotted by lines of wild geese
changing to their homes, only in this
case there was no noise. The flowing
wave sighed family as it reached the
stone beneath us, like some exhausted
swimmer who gains the shore with his
last gasp. The tiny flag upon the roof
top above us could not flap, but hung
heavily upon its staff There were no
other persons about the harbor but our
selves, but the witchery of the scene
stilled our talk, and little Baba's prattle
was the only sound that broke the ST.
lence of sea or shore. After q while it
became the child's bedtime, and Lucy
rose to accompany him to the Inn. As
| avYrncuol 11axv i1,tanffA., 6
Frank kindly offered to stay with me ;
but knew how great were the attrac-
tions for him of seeing Baba in his bath
and at his prayers, so would not per-
NIT him to do so. "Clovelly is a very
queer place." said I, "and it's sailors
are very enterprising; but don't think
that anybody-even in Clovelly-will
think of running away with your Aunt
Sue." And so was left alone.


In that still summer night, with the
quiet stars shining above me, and be-
low me-for the great deep was like O
mirror-an old woman like myself, you
may say, reader, might have occupied
her thoughts to better purpose but
instead of rejecting upon the transi-
toriness of life, and my latter days,
confess they were principally fixed on
certain picnic that was to take place
upon the morrow. [ had bespoken
some cold meat and potted trout but
[ was bent, if possible, on securing
some fruit, principally on the child's
account, and as surprise.


Well, had settled in my own mind
about the fruit, and also which cushion
of the sofa in our little sitting room
would best suit to prop dear Lucy's
back in the somewhat iolting carriage
which we had engaged for the morrow,
and was slowly toiling up the steps to
the inn, when this occurred. Hallway
up the steps, there is an ancient arch
way occupied as dwelling-house here
L stopped to gather breath for the re-
mainder of the ascent. It was almost
dark by this time, and standing in the
shadow of the arch, / was quite invisi-
bic to any passer-by who should not
absolutely touch me. had scarcely
reached this resting place when my ear
was struck by the faint and suppressed
sobs of woman. She was evidently in
some room on the other side of the
wall against which I leaned, and but
for it could have touched her with my
hand.


"Dead, dead, dead!' she moaned.
ooh, what shall we do without oul
bread winner ?"


1 was about to knock at the cottage
door, to see if could be of any sort oi
comfort to this poor bereaved creature,
when heard the step of man coming
down the hill, so unsteady that I could
not but conclude that he was in liquor
Such an occurrence is not an unexam
pied one in fishing village, but 1 have
particular horror of drunken per
| aOn. and tharefnrn ehrank nninklu hn oil