t.
We passed the sharp promontory of Siddick, and, skirting the land within
a stonecast, glided along the shore till we came within sight of the
ruined Abbey of Sweetheart. The green mountain of Criffel ascended
beside us; and the bleat of the flocks from its summit, together with the
winding of the evening horn of the reapers, came softened into something
like music over land and sea. We pushed our shallop into a deep and
wooded bay, and sat silently looking on the serene beauty of the place.
The moon glimmered in her rising through the tall shafts of the pines of
Caerlaverock; and the sky, with scarce a cloud, showered down on wood and
headland and bay the twinkling beams of a thousand stars, rendering every
object visible. The tide, too, was coming with that swift and silent
swell observable when the wind is gentle; the woody curves along the land
were filling with the flood, till it touched the green branches of the
drooping trees; while in the centre current the roll and the plunge of a
thousand pellocks told to the experienced fisherman that salmon were
abundant.

As we looked, we saw an old man emerging from a path that wound to the
shore through a grove of doddered hazel; he carried a halve-net on his
back, while behind him came a girl, bearing a small harpoon, with which
the fishers are remarkably dexterous in striking their prey. The senior
seated himself on a large grey stone, which overlooked the bay, laid
aside his bonnet, and submitted his bosom and neck to the refreshing sea
breeze, and, taking his harpoon from his attendant, sat with the gravity
and composure of a spirit of the flood, with his ministering nymph behind
him. We pushed our shallop to the shore, and soon stood at their side.

"This is old Mark Macmoran the mariner, with his granddaughter Barbara,"
said Richard Faulder, in a whisper that had something of fear in it; "he
knows every creek and cavern and quicksand in Solway; has seen the
Spectre Hound that haunts the Isle of Man; has heard him bark, and at
every bark has seen a ship sink; and he has seen, too, the Haunted Ships
in full sail; and, if all tales be true, he has sailed in them
himself;--he's an awful person."

Though I perceived in the communication of my friend something of the
superstition of the sailor, I could not help thinking that common rumour
had made a happy choice in singling out old Mark to maintain her
intercourse with the invisible world. His hair, which seemed