quiet water of the tickle. But more
like 'twas something finer that moved him: in that upheaval of his
life, it may be, 'twas a wistful turning of the heart to the paths and
familiar waters of the shore where he lived as a lad. Had the _Shining
Light_ sailed near or far and passed the harbor by, the changed
fortunes of--but there was no sailing by, nor could have been, for the
great wind upon whose wings she came was passionate, too, and
fateful.

If 'tis a delight to love, whatever may come of it (as some hold), I
found delight upon the grim hills of Twin Islands....

* * * * *

They lie hard by the coast, but are yet remote: Ship's Run divides
them from the long blue line of main-land which lifts its barren hills
in misty distance from our kinder place. 'Tis a lusty stretch of gray
water, sullen, melancholy, easily troubled by the winds, which
delight, it seems, sweeping from the drear seas of the north, to stir
its rage. In evil weather 'tis wide as space; when a nor'easter lifts
the white dust of the sea, clouding Blow-me-down-Billy of the
main-land in a swirl of mist and spume, there is no departure; nor is
there any crossing (mark you) when in the spring of the year a
southerly gale urges the ice to sea. We of Twin Islands were cut off
by Ship's Run from all the stirring and inquisitive world.

According to Tumm, the clerk of the _Quick as Wink_, which traded our
harbor, Twin Islands are t' the west'ard o' the Scarf o' Fog, a bit
below the Blue Gravestones, where the _Soldier o' the Cross_ was
picked up by Satan's Tail in the nor'easter o' the Year o' the Big
Shore Catch. "Oh, I knows un!" says he. "You opens the Tickle when you
rounds Cocked Hat o' the Hen-an'-Chickens an' lays a course for
Gentleman Cove, t'other side o' the bay. Good harbor in dirty
weather," says he: "an', ecod! my lads, a hearty folk." This is
forbidding enough, God knows! as to situation; but though the ancient
islands, scoured by wind and rain, are set in a misty isolation and
show gray, grimly wrinkled faces to the unkind sea, betraying no
tenderness, they are green and genial in the places within: there are
valleys; and the sun is no idler, and the lean earth of those parts is
not to be discouraged.

"God-forsaken place, Nick!" quoth Tom Bull, at the Anchor and Chain.

"How was you knowin' that, Tom?" says my uncle. "You isn't never
_been_ there."

"_Sounds_ God-forsaken."

"So does hel