The Altar Steps

d six at its greatest breadth, which on account of its remoteness from the railway, its unusual geological formation, and its peninsular shape po

a clear rosy pink, with nothing to break the level monochrome except scattered drifts of cotton grass, pools of silver water and a few stunted pines, that ignorant observers have often supposed that the colour gave its name to the whole peninsula. The ancient town of Rosemarket, which serves as the only channel of

ountry of green valleys unfolding to the ocean, and of small farms fertile enough when they were sheltered from the prevailing wind; but on the southern confines of the parish the soil became shallow and stony, the arable fields

he metalled coast road continued past the Hanover Inn, an isolated house standing at the head of a small cove, to make the long ascent of Pendhu Cliff three hundred and fifty feet high, from the brow of which it descended between banks of fern past St. Tugdual's Church to the sands of Church Cove, whence it emerged to climb in a steep zigzag the next headland, beyond which it turned inland again to Lanyon and rejoined the main road to Rose Head. The church itself had no architectural distinction; but the solitary position, the churchyard walls sometimes washed by high spring tides, the squat tower built into the roun

austere place until, as at the date when Mark first came there, it was graced by the perfume and gold of acacias, by wistaria and jasmine and honeysuckle, by the ivory goblets of magnolias, by crimson fuchsias, and where formerly its grey walls grew mossy north and east by pink and white camelias and the waxen bells of lapagerias. The garden was a wilderness of scarlet rhododendrons from the thickets of whic

across the valley to a hillside yellow with gorse. He hardly knew how to restrain himself from waking his mother with news of the wonderful sights and sounds of this first vision of the country; but when he saw a clump of daffodils nodding in the gras

ven daffodils growing

tened me so. I thought

Mark apologetically. "I only meant it to be a whisper

ther s

readfully

might dress myself a

t disturb g

er, of co

ly. And you must remember that grandfather may be tired.

y nice, i

zzled and not a little frightened by his bushy black eyebrows slanting up to a profusion of white hair. Mark had n

eetheart, if you really intend to dress yourself run along

the place to find a hippopotamus, or even a crocodile. Mark had reached the bottom of the slope and discovered a dark sluggish stream full of decayed vegetable matter which was slowly oozing on its course. Or even a crocodile, he thought again; and he looked carefully at a half-submerged log. Or even a crocodile . . . yes, but people had often thought before that logs were not crocodiles and had not discovered their mistake until they were half way down the crocodile's throat. It had been amusing to fancy the existence of crocodiles when he was still close to the Vicarage, but suppose after all that there really were crocodiles living down here? Feeling a little ashamed of his cowardice, but glossing it over with an assumption of filial piety, Mark turned to go back through the rhododendrons so as not to be late for breakfast. He would find out if any crocodiles had bee

arth was upon him. He walked more slowly, because he was passing through a bed of forget-me-nots, and he could not bear to blind one of those myriad blue eyes. He chose most carefully the destination of each step, and walking thus he did not notice that the valley would curve no more, but was opening at last. He looked up in a sudden consciousness of added space, and there serene as the sky above was spread the sea. Yesterday from the train Mark had had what was actually his first view of the sea; but the rain had taken all the colour out of it, and he had been thrilled rather by the word than by the fact. Now the word was nothing, the fact was everything. There it was within reach of him, blue as the pictures always made it. The streams of the valley had gathered into one, and Mark caring no more what happened to the forget-me-nots ran along the bank. This morning when the stream reached the shore it broke into twenty limpid rivulets, each one of which ploughed a separate silver furrow across the glistening sand until all were merged in ocean, mighty father of streams and men. Mark ran with the rivulets until he stood by the waves' edge. All

ave. That's my granfa's grave, that is,

a pair of worn corduroy knickerbockers and a guernsey, who was reg

ing warned him that he must assert himself, if he

nt to touch

you won't do no s

rmly as his small hands would allow him an

the boy

t," sai

ake 'ee

ght, ma

acking Mark's face with his open palm; a moment later they were locked in a close struggle, heaving and panting and pushing until both of them tripped on the low railing of a grave and rolled over i

shaking them violently. "'Tisn't the first time I've sp

, Mr. Timbury. The bullocks i

wo boys as he turned, and Cass Dale

, or he'll ha

scrambling over the wall by the south porch of the c

ve laid that stick round us sure enough. He don't care where he hits anybody, old man Timbury don't. I belo

hurchyard wall, shaking his stick

I'd be ashamed to swear like that, I would. You wouldn't he

ine," s

? Wher

ndo

ister,

e's a

the Pope asked me to kiss his toe, I'd soo

t kiss the Pope's

. My father belongs to come himself to the Harvest Home, but my granfa never came to church at all so long as he was alive. 'Time enough when I'm dead for that' he used to say. He w

is the priest

est to Nancepean. O

her's name i

y for do 'ee call him a p

, he

priest. When I'm grown up I'm going to

adventure with the wild beast in the thicket and this encounter with the self-confident Cass

id Cass, "I'll bet everyone comes to listen to me

if they didn't,

preach to a parcel of empty cha

trees," said Mark. "And St. A

e been a coupl

saints," Ma

saints. My father says he reckons saints is the same as

om?" Mar

ourse. What else wou

ted out. "I saw a wild beast this morning. A wild

ld beast. That wa

a badger a

laughed

good one! I suppose you'd

an inclination to cry, so much mortifie

chap over to Lanbaddern who was chased right across the Rose one evening by seven ba

be reproached by his mother on his return to the Vicarage. The way it had been disposed of by Ca

," he said. "But I don't

son Tre

nod

d the way past the mouth of the stream to th

that he had pulled off in passing. "Kind of nutty taste

d agreed with Cass that th

"I reckon you'd better always ask me before you eat anything. But furz

said Mark

ts every Good Friday. A

k inquired with memories of

side of the Castle Cliff, and there's some handsome cave there. Years ago my granfa knawed a chap who saw a mermaid combing out her hair in Dollar Cove. But there's no mermaids been seen la

that?" M

that's when you put a blue ribbon in your buttonho

Mark objected. "P

ything. You ought to hear him preach about drink. Why, when it gets known in the village that Sam Dale's going to preach on drink there isn't a sea

ooked

get even with the chapel folk. He used to be in the Navy, and he lost his leg and got that hole in his head in a war with the Rooshians. You'll hear him talking big

that when he arrived back at the Vicarage and found his mother

f too much," she warned him. "Do try to

'd wait for me and he's going to show me where we might find some silver dollars. He says they're five tim

ew friend, "don't forget that I can show you lots of the interesting things to see round here. I was a lit

however, eye his grandfather from over the top of his cup, and he found him less alarming in the morning than he had supposed him to be last night. P

't you ask Mark or me to

ssed smile and Mark observed with a thrill that when he smiled he looked

"with everything looking just the same. As for Mark, he's so happy

inally managed to mutter a confi

dy made friends

ore than he does," commented Parson Trehawke. "However, he

join Cass Dale, who sitting crosslegged under an