he west window;"
and he led the way to the sleigh.

Eph hesitated a moment, and then followed him.

"Mary, this is Ephraim Morse. We are going in to see the Dutch tiles I
have told you of."

She smiled as she held out her mittened hand to Eph, who took it
awkwardly.

The square front room, which had been originally intended for a
keeping-room, but had been Aunt Lois's bedroom, looked out from two
windows upon the road, and from two upon the rolling, tumbling bay,
and the shining sea beyond. A tall clock, with a rocking ship above the
face, ticked in the corner. The painted floor with bright rag mats,
the little table with a lacquer work-box, the stiff chairs and the
old-fashioned bedstead, the china ornaments upon the mantel-piece, the
picture of "The Emeline G. in the Harbor of Canton," were just as they
had been when the patient invalid had lain there, looking from her
pillow out to sea. In twelve rude tiles, set around the open fireplace,
the Hebrews were seen in twelve stages of their escape from Egypt. It
would appear from this representation that they had not restricted their
borrowings to the jewels of their oppressors, but had taken for the
journey certain Dutch clothing of the fashion of the seventeenth
century. The scenery, too, was much like that about Leyden.

"I think," said the doctor's wife, "that the painter was just a little
absent-minded when he put in that beer-barrel. And a wharf, by the Red
Sea!"

"I wish you would conclude to rig your boat with a new sail," said the
doctor, as he took up the reins, at parting. "There is n't a boat here
that 's kept clean, and I should like to hire yours once or twice a week
in summer, if you keep her as neat as you do your house. Come in and see
me some evening, and we 'll talk it over."

*****

Eph built his boat, and, in spite of his evident dislike of visitors,
the inside finish and the arrangements of the little cabin were so
ingenious and so novel that everybody had to pay him a visit.

True to his plan of being independent, he built in the side of the hill,
near his barn, by a little gravelly pond, an ice-house, and with the
hardest labor filled it, all by himself. With this supply, he would not
have to go to the general wharf at Sandy Point to sell his fish, with
the other men, but could pack and ship them himself. And he could do
better, in this way, he thought, even after paying for teaming them to
the cars.

The knowing ones laughed to see t