FISHERMEN'S RUBBISH.

257

the good opinion even of the hostess; for she tried to explain that her churlish behaviour on my first arrival was only her way of testing the quality of the coin before she took it: "I knowed ye was a antiquary," she said, "as soon as I heard ye speak." I took the opportunity to inquire why she should be so mistrustful of a stranger. The reason was, that a man to whom Robin lent a pair of trowsers, got up early one morning, went away, and never came back. That was years ago; but ever since she had been mistrustful.

Robin was studying the John o' Groat Journal, a paper which gives full information about the herrings, and is to fishermen what the Mark Lane Express is to farmers. But he didn't know how it was, reading always made him sleepy. Then the artist, who had not yet departed, brought in a portfolio, and showed us the collection of seaweeds which he and his wife had made during their sojourn nicely displayed in a book; and as he turned over the beautiful specimens, coming now and then to one of brilliant colour and exquisite form, all the company became eloquent with admiration. Three or four fishermen, who had dropped in for a glass of beer, were lost in astonishment, and one said to the others, "Who'd ha' thought such pretty things was to be found among what we treads on every day as if 'twas rubbish, or worse than rubbish?"

I ended the day with a twilight stroll on the beach. The voice of the sea was no longer sullen as in the fog, but solemn, harmonising with the reflections inspired by the star-lit firmament overhead, and the quiet that prevailed upon the dusky landscape. And who in presence of the stars and the sea feels not thought and emotion crowding upon him beyond all that can be spoken or written?

Returning to the inn, I found Robin in conference with a gentleman and lady from Newcastle, who, desiring a trip to the Islands, had walked over from Bamborough to inquire concerning a boat. He had already promised in my behalf that they might accompany me; and I willingly agreed: so we arranged to meet in the morning.

""Tis easier to the pocket when three or four go in the same boat," said Robin, as Ælianus and Æliana, as we may call them, walked slowly away and disappeared on the dusky links.

A QUAKERLY RECTIFICATION.

259

CHAPTER XIX.

Reward of Patience-A Quakerly Rectification-Victualling for a VoyageElianus makes Excuse-A Dead Calm-A Breeze-The FarneBasaltic Churn-The First Bishop-St. Cuthbert-His Opinion of Women-The Chapel and Castle-The Lighthouse A Grassy Usurper -Wideopens and Noxes-The Place of Demons-Swedman and Megstone-The Fairway-Wreck of the Pegasus-Families of Swimmers -Staple Island-The Pinnacles-A Landing-Rabbits, Eggs, and Birds-Gawky Youngsters; Anxious Oldsters-Tammie Norie-The Brownsman-The Birdkeeper and Gardener-North Wawms-Cormorants-Young Elephants-A Medusa-Big and Little Harcar-Piper Gut-Midden Gut-Longstone Lighthouse-Grace Darling's Father and Sister-The Crumstone: Haunt of Seals-An Editor's PromiseThe Forfarshire-Holy Island-The Monastery-History and Romance -Population and Public Houses-The Herring Fleet-The CastleThe Old Law-A Grumble-A Rough Walk-Berwick again.

IF patience was ever rewarded, mine was by as fine a day on the morrow as ever dawned. It tempted me out early, and I went strolling along the beach and scrambling up the sandhills till breakfast time. I was not the only early riser, for Robin was already busy with his nets, and my worthy friend the Quaker came trotting briskly up, announcing his approach by a shout. As soon as he drew rein, he said, "I was mistaken in telling thee the rock was limestone: it is sandstone; and I thought I would ride over and tell thee, lest thou make a mistake also." Such benevolence as that deserved and received abundant thanks; and while we chatted the good man alighted and caressed his pony with an affection that was pleasing to witness, as if the four-footed creature were really a companion.

I walked some way with him towards Bamborough, and he parted from me with a real invitation to his house should I ever revisit the banks of the Wear.

In common with Swiss guides, North Sunderland boatmen expect you to feed as well as pay them, so I begged the hostess to see that we had enough to eat; and she being used to that sort of thing, showed me when I came out from breakfast a large basket filled with sandwiches, eggs, and bread, and cheese, and a big stone bottle full of ale. Meanwhile the boat had arrived; the boatman's two boys embarked the provisions, but of the two promised visitors from Newcastle there came only one, and that one was Eliana. Ælianus sent word that he was very sorry, but his foot was a little painful, and he was not sure that he should be able to walk.

"Tis my belief from what he said last night,” whispered Robin, "that the gentleman's a little afraid. But you see his wife isn't."

Æliana explained that she had long wished to see the Isles, and the day being so fine, resolved not to miss the opportunity, and therefore came alone.

The early breeze died completely away before we were half a mile from the shore, and the boys had to row, and what with the bright sun, and the glare reflected from the unruffled water, there seemed a prospect of a good scorching ere noon. The boys pulled lazily, and our voyage was becoming dreamy, when their father, who kept his post at the rudder, cried, "In oars, here comes the wind; up sail, boys!" and there from the east came gliding a broad quivering stream of ripples, nearer and nearer. In a minute our sail swelled out, the boat lay gently over, the ripples prattled merrily under the bow, as we slid away, and

the oppressive sultriness was at once tempered by the quickening coolness of the sea.

The Farne or House Island, the largest of the group, lies about a mile and a half from the shore. On the side towards the mainland it presents a dark range of basaltic cliff to the water rising in some places to a height of eighty feet, with the variety of outline produced by the numerous fissures of that kind of rock, and with the ordinary phenomena consequent thereon. While on the south an isolated mass stands boldly up defiant of the shock of waves, there is on the northwest a deep cavernous fissure, known as the Churn, into which with a gale from the north the water rushes at half-tide with such fury that the rebound from the end of the chasm sends up a great column all foam and spray, to a height of ninety feet, distinctly seen from Monkshouse.

The landing-place is on the eastern side, where the ground falls with a gentle slope to the water. The lighthouse people were ready with offers of service as we stepped on shore; a boy ran off to fetch the key, and the door of the little chapel which stands not far from the landing-place was unlocked. For those who believe in the saints, this is hallowed ground. Aidan, the first bishop of Lindisfarne, about the middle of the seventh century, used to retreat to this island for occasional prayer and meditation. After him came St. Cuthbert in 676, resigning his bishopric, his apostolic journey into the mountainous wilds of the county where he preached to the pagan natives: he gave all up for solitude and devotion. Here near the landingplace he built an oratory which, deeply sunk in the ground, and with walls of sods and lumps of stone, and roof of coarse grass, must have resembled an