lt deep. The palings
which surrounded them, the sheds and outhouses, and even the ornaments
with which they were decorated, were evidently portions of wrecks. Over
the door of one might be seen the figure-head of some unfortunate
vessel. An arbour, not rustic but nautical, was composed of the carved
work of a Dutch galliot; indeed, the owners of few had failed to secure
some portion of the numerous hapless vessels which from time to time had
been driven on their treacherous coast.

On the level ground between the cliff and the river stood two or three
other cottages. One, the largest of them, appeared to be built almost
entirely of wreck wood, from the uneven appearance presented by the
walls and roof, the architect having apparently adapted such pieces of
timber as came to hand without employing the saw to bring them into more
fitting shape; the chimney, however, and the lower portions of the
walls, were constructed of hewn stone, taken probably from some ancient
edifice long demolished. Though the exterior of the cottage, with its
boat and fish sheds, looked somewhat rough, it had altogether a
substantial and not uncomfortable appearance.

The most conspicuous object in the landscape was a windmill standing a
little way to the southward on the top of the cliff. Its sails were
moving slowly round, but their tattered condition showed that but a
small amount of grist was ground within.

Such was the aspect of the little village of Hurlston and its
surroundings towards the end of the last century. It was not especially
attractive--indeed few scenes would have appeared to advantage at that
moment; but when sunshine lighted up the blue dancing waters, varied by
the shadows of passing clouds, the marine painter might have found many
subjects for his pencil among the picturesque cottages, their sturdy
inhabitants, the wild cliffs, and the yellow strand glittering with
shells.

Farther inland the country improved. On the higher ground to the south
were neat cottages rising among shrubberies, the parish church with its
square tower, and yet farther off the mansion of Sir Reginald Castleton,
in the midst of its park, with its broad lake, its green meadows and
clumps of wide-spreading trees, surrounded by a high paling forbidding
the ingress of strangers, and serving to secure the herd of graceful
deer which bounded amidst its glades.

The fishermen--regardless of the driving mist, which, settling on their
flushing