doubt, Moses--nar a doubt at all."

The wind had risen; 'twas blowing from south by sou'east in meaning
gusts: gusts intent upon riot, without compassion, loosed and
conscious of release to work the will they had. The wind cares nothing
for the needs of men; it has no other feeling than to vent its
strength upon the strength of us--the lust (it seems to me) for a
trial of passion, not knowing the enlistment of our hearts. 'Tis by
the heart alone that we outlive the sea's angry, crafty hate, for
which there is no cause, since we would live at peace with it: for the
heart remembers the kitchens of our land, and, defiant or not, evades
the trial, repressed by love, as the sea knows no repression. 'Twas
blowing smartly, with the promise of greater strength--'twas a time
for reefs; 'twas a time for cautious folk, who loved their young, to
walk warily upon the waters lest they be undone. The wind is a
taunter; and the sea perversely incites in some folk--though 'tis
hardly credible to such as follow her by day and night--strange desire
to flaunt abroad, despite the bitter regard in which she holds the
sons of men. I was glad that the folk of our harbor were within the
tickle: for the sea of Ship's Run, now turned black, was baring its
white teeth. 'Twas an unkind place to be caught in a gale of wind; but
our folk were wise--knowing in the wiles of the sea--and were not to
be trapped in the danger fools despise.

"I'm on'y a fool," said Moses Shoos; "but, Dannie, mother 'lowed,
afore she died, that I was wonderful good t' she. 'Moses, lad,' says
mother, on that day, 'fool or no fool, looks or not, you been
wonderful good t' me. I could never love you more; an' I wouldn't
trade you, lad, for the brightest man o' Twist Tickle. Does you hear
me, dear?' says she. 'I wants you t' remember. I loves you,' says she;
'an' fool or no fool, I'd never trade you off, you've been so good t'
me.'"

"T' be sure not!" cries I.

"Not mother," said he; "not--_my_ mother!"

I reminded him that 'twas time to be about his courtship, for the
light was fading now, and 'twould soon be dark.

"Ay," said he; "mother 'lowed 'twasn't good for man t' be alone. An' I
'low she knowed."

I watched him down the hill....

I was but a motherless lad--not yet grown wise, but old enough,
indeed, to want a mother--in some dim way (which even yet is not clear
to my heart's ignorance, nor ever will be, since I am born as I am)
sensitive to feel the fathoml