bliss and woe.

Ere our translator, or rather our free imitator, had arranged these
stanzas in his head, and while he was yet hammering out a rhyme for
DWINDLE, the task of the sibyl was accomplished, or her wool was
expended. She took the spindle, now charged with her labours, and,
undoing the thread gradually, measured it by casting it over her elbow
and bringing each loop round between her forefinger and thumb. When she
had measured it out, she muttered to herself--'A hank, but not a haill
ane--the full years o' three score and ten, but thrice broken, and thrice
to OOP (i.e. to unite); he'll be a lucky lad an he win through wi't.'

Our hero was about to speak to the prophetess, when a voice, hoarse as
the waves with which it mingled, hallooed twice, and with increasing
impatience--'Meg, Meg Merrilies! Gipsy--hag--tausend deyvils!'

'I am coming, I am coming, Captain,' answered Meg; and in a moment or two
the impatient commander whom she addressed made his appearance from the
broken part of the ruins.

He was apparently a seafaring man, rather under the middle size, and with
a countenance bronzed by a thousand conflicts with the north-east wind.
His frame was prodigiously muscular, strong, and thick-set; so that it
seemed as if a man of much greater height would have been an inadequate
match in any close personal conflict. He was hard-favoured, and, which
was worse, his face bore nothing of the insouciance, the careless,
frolicsome jollity and vacant curiosity, of a sailor on shore. These
qualities, perhaps, as much as any others, contribute to the high
popularity of our seamen, and the general good inclination which our
society expresses towards them. Their gallantry, courage, and hardihood
are qualities which excite reverence, and perhaps rather humble pacific
landsmen in their presence; and neither respect nor a sense of
humiliation are feelings easily combined with a familiar fondness towards
those who inspire them. But the boyish frolics, the exulting high
spirits, the unreflecting mirth of a sailor when enjoying himself on
shore, temper the more formidable points of his character. There was
nothing like these in this man's face; on the contrary, a surly and even
savage scowl appeared to darken features which would have been harsh and
unpleasant under any expression or modification. 'Where are you, Mother
Deyvilson?' he said, with somewhat of a foreign accent, though speaking
perfectly good English. 'Donner a