A Singer from the Sea

TAGE BY

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rations are never put out of breath. He had not yet been a yoke-fellow with sorrow. Hard work, the cruelty of the

f his cottage, and thought over the heads of his sermon. For he was to preach that night in the little chapel of St. Swer, a fishing hamlet four miles to the northward; indeed, John preached v

te-plaided flannel thrown over her head. She came in like the breath of the spring Sabbath. Her face was rosy, her lovely lips slightly apart, her blue eyes dewy and soft and bright and brimming with love. She lifte

it saved many a household worry. They sat down to their breakfast of tea, and fresh fish, and white loaf, and the wide-open door let in the sea wind, and the sea smell, and the soft murmur of the turning tide. John's

tell us 43 that there shall be a new ear

re,' thank God! no freezing, drowning men and no weeping wives. I do think of that

els, whose voices were like the sound of many waters. Heaven will be wonderful! wonderful! if it do make us forget the sea. Aw, my dear Joan, 'twill be some

, awful sea is not to be taken away, nor yet the '

and, men and women; and then there will be no more tears. My dear, when I think of tha

e to dress myself yet, and a new dress to put on, too," and Denas smiled and nodded and touched her father's big hand wit

Chapel; of the singing, and the sermon, and the Sunday-school in the afternoon for the fisher children; of the walk to St. Swer with Denas by his side and the walk back, sin

be calling me before I do have

e and milk, and though none recognised the fact at the time, the old l

ing bleaching. It was the duty of Denas to take the house linen to some level grassy spot on the cliff-breast and water and watch it whiten in the sunshine. Monday she had gone t