"An' that was the last look that passed atween 'em. For now feeling
the wheels on grass and the end near, he loosed the rein and fetched
the horse he rode a cut atween the ears--an' that's how 'twas,"
concluded Seth, lamely.
Like most inferior narrators, he shied at the big fence, flinched
before the climax. But as he ended, I flung a short glance downward
at the birches and black water, and took up my rod again with a
shiver.
FROM A COTTAGE IN TROY.
I.--A HAPPY VOYAGE.
The cottage that I have inhabited these six years looks down on the
one quiet creek in a harbour full of business. The vessels that
enter beneath Battery Point move up past the grey walls and green
quay-doors of the port to the jetties where their cargoes lie.
All day long I can see them faring up and down past the mouth of my
creek; and all the year round I listen to the sounds of them--the
dropping or lifting of anchors, the _wh-h-ing!_ of a siren-whistle
cutting the air like a twanged bow, the concertina that plays at
night, the rush of the clay cargo shot from the jetty into the lading
ship. But all this is too far remote to vex me. Only one vessel
lies beneath my terrace; and she has lain there for a dozen years.
After many voyages she was purchased by the Board of Guardians in our
district, dismasted, and anchored up here to serve as a hospital-ship
in case the cholera visited us. She has never had a sick man on
board from that day to the present.
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