n I come here.
He wasn't a sailor, or one might pardon his eccentricity of appearance;
he must belong to the over-harbor clans. Uncle Dave says they have
several freaks over there."

"Uncle Dave is a little prejudiced, I think. You know all the
over-harbor people who come to the Glen Church seem very nice. Oh,
Gilbert, isn't this beautiful?"

The Four Winds light was built on a spur of red sand-stone cliff
jutting out into the gulf. On one side, across the channel, stretched
the silvery sand shore of the bar; on the other, extended a long,
curving beach of red cliffs, rising steeply from the pebbled coves. It
was a shore that knew the magic and mystery of storm and star. There
is a great solitude about such a shore. The woods are never
solitary--they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. But
the sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareable
sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity. We can never
pierce its infinite mystery--we may only wander, awed and spellbound,
on the outer fringe of it. The woods call to us with a hundred voices,
but the sea has one only--a mighty voice that drowns our souls in its
majestic music. The woods are human, but the sea is of the company of
the archangels.

Anne and Gilbert found Uncle Jim sitting on a bench outside the
lighthouse, putting the finishing touches to a wonderful, full-rigged,
toy schooner. He rose and welcomed them to his abode with the gentle,
unconscious courtesy that became him so well.

"This has been a purty nice day all through, Mistress Blythe, and now,
right at the last, it's brought its best. Would you like to sit down
here outside a bit, while the light lasts? I've just finished this bit
of a plaything for my little grand nephew, Joe, up at the Glen. After
I promised to make it for him I was kinder sorry, for his mother was
vexed. She's afraid he'll be wanting to go to sea later on and she
doesn't want the notion encouraged in him. But what could I do,
Mistress Blythe? I'd PROMISED him, and I think it's sorter real
dastardly to break a promise you make to a child. Come, sit down. It
won't take long to stay an hour."

The wind was off shore, and only broke the sea's surface into long,
silvery ripples, and sent sheeny shadows flying out across it, from
every point and headland, like transparent wings. The dusk was hanging
a curtain of violet gloom over the sand dunes and the headlands where
gulls