This beach was as smooth as a floor of
the purest marble, and at low tide was
full a hundred yards broad—a beautiful
pavement of sparkling sand that at noon-day
dazzled the eye, and by moonlight,
when the waves rippled upon its verge,
was one of the most lovely features in the
scenery. Not a stone, not a green weed,
marred its purity. The eye, turning from
the savage grandeur of the cliffs around,
rested always upon this with relief and
delight.

Directly opposite this lovely beach, the
fishing boat was at anchor, and about a
cable's length from it. From the beach
a path wound up the face of the rock to
the upland. Over-hanging this path were
two or three groups of pine and fir trees,
dark and unfading in their perennial
green. These were, with the exception
of fine tall white pines that grew, conspicuous
objects from every quarter, on
the western headland close to its verge.
On the eastern head there had doubtless
been once a similar group, as a lofty
scathed trunk, white and hoary, lifted itself
from the cliff in lonely grandeur, a
land mark for the fishermen far away at
sea, as the sun beams lighted it up and
made it shine like a column of steel.

In the rear of this, stretching far inland,
was a forest of low pines and other
evergreen trees; but they were not visible
from the level of the bay, and were
only seen coming in from sea; or more
nearly when the path which led from the
beach was surmounted and the upland
reached. The observer there would,
however, see this side of the forest a
lower secondary cliff, about twenty feet
high, between the base of which and the
cliff he had climbed, stretched a green
level space, comprising several rods in
length and breadth, and would be agreeably
surprised and pleased to discover
close against the receding cliff a neat
fisherman's hut, half embowered in the
foliage of wild vines, and over shadowed
by green trees that bent protectingly
down from the rocks above it.

This dwelling from its seclusion, its
native beauty, its commanding view of
the bay beneath it, and of numerous bays
and islands, and headlands, and the broad
blue sea beyond—with its pleasant lawn
and pathway to the beach, and the pretty
beach itself—with the fishing vessel riding
at anchor, as if inviting to an excursion
down the bay; with all these advantages,
so unexpectedly discovered and
combined, it would have tempted the
most world-loving to sigh for its possession
as a haven and home of rest.

The cottage, the situation of which we
have thus described, was the abode of a
fisherman; one of that large and useful
class of men, who have given to Maine
the proud appellation of `Nursery for
the Navy.'

Unlike the ordinary habitations of the
poor fishermen, who dwelt along the
iron coast of the eastern sea-board, this
was, as we have seen, a picturesque
abode. It was constructed of logs it is
true, but they were smoothly hewn, and
neatly fitted at the angles, so that when
the walls were completed, they presented
a smooth surface which, being whitened
with lime, made from sea-shells, presented
a pretty appearance. The roof,
too, was unique. being entirely composed
of a surface of large shells, cemented in
line, and laid in rows over-lapping like
the plates of scale armour. This arrangement
combined both economy and
ingenious taste, and showed that the occupant
was a person of a superior order
of mind, to those of his class.

The house, which contained four rooms,
was built against the second cliff, and
directly beneath two trees that shot outward
from its surface almost horizontally,
and so covered it in a manner at once
wild and sheltering. Above these trees,

[figure description] Page 007.[end figure description]

was a great dark crown of forest, the beginning
of the vast inland wood already
alluded to. The sides of the cliff bent
round, so as to enclose the cottage on
the north and east, and west sides, leaving
it open to the south and the sea.

This wall of cliff was not entirely bare.
Some careful hand had trained over it,
nearest the hut, the wild creeper of the
Northern clime, so that it formed a beautiful
feature to the eye.

The same hand of taste had planted
rose-bushes, the fragrant wild-rose of the
rocks, about the door and underneath the
windows; and also in groups on the
lawn interspersed with young acacias and
elm. Woodbine had also been taught to
form leafy arches over the two humble
windows and door, and to fall from the
eves in graceful festoons.

There was a dove-cote at one end of
the cottage, and upon a tall pole near
the eastern gable, was perched a little
miniature light-house, perforated with
arched windows, from which the chirruping
and ever-active black-martin went in
and out, enlivening the scene with their
musical notes, and their motions through
the air.

There was also a lantern-shaped cage
hanging at the door side, through the
bars of which a glimpse could be got of
the rich green coat of a Poll Parrot, even
if his shrill voice in continually calling
out, `How is the tide, my lads?' did not
previously give warning of his presence.
There was seated also, in the door step,
on this sunny afternoon, on which we
are bringing you, dear reader, to the
house we are describing to you as you approach
it, in the door-way a large, enormously
large, and comfortable-looking
black cat, nine years old, with a face as
grave as a grandam's, and her paws and
hide as sleek and soft as those of a young
mouse. She sits purring in the warm
sun, wrapped up in her dignity and com
fort with all the consequential appearance
of a privileged citizen.

Not far from the old cat, which occasionally
glances towards him out of the
corner of her half-closed left eye, crouches
a grand, noble-looking Newfoundlander,
with his nose resting upon his
pure white paws, large as a lion's. His
colour is tawny, like that of a lion, and
his hair about his majestic neck and head,
long like that of the king of beasts, to
whom this dog is only second, save in
savage ferocity. But the small light
hazel eye of the dog, the quiet thoughtful
air of his brow, the gentle aspect of
his whole physiognomy, show that his
qualities are far from being savage; that
though he may have the courage of the
lion, he has the gentleness of the lamb.

He seems to be asleep, as he lays himself
half in the sun, half in the shade of
a low myrtle bush; his eyelids from
time to time slowly lift, as if he was on
the alert with all his outward repose.—
He had laid himself down in the full sunshine,
but the sun in his journey has
thrown his stately form half into the shadow,
and soon promises to cast him completely
into the shade. The old cat appears
to be quietly watching this operation,
and to be speculating with half an
eye, upon the probability of Bonus's
changing his position, as the shadow falls
farther and farther upon his person; for
though it was an August afternoon, it was
near the close of the month, when on
this coast, the sun-light is sought rather
than shade.

There is a small black and white cow,
without horns, grazing upon the lawn,
cropping the sweeter grass near the
verge of the cliff, an ugly, ill-favored
animal; but nevertheless in keeping
with the place and scene. These are all
the living objects about the cottage, save
a poor solitary sparrow hopping upon the
rocks, near the path that descends to the

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beach, and far away, in the deep blue of
heaven, a hawk, or an eagle, balancing
himself upon his spread pinions as immovable
as if painted on the sky.

About the cottage door are signs of the
craft of the occupant. A dip net stands
against the wall on one side, and a grapnel
hangs by a peg on the other. Before
the window, on the grass, is stretched a
cast net, to dry in the warm sun-beams,
and afterwards to undergo repairs, which
rents here and there in the delicate tracery
of cross lines shows that it will need
ere it be used again to ensnare the hunted
habitants of the deep.

Against a tree, at the west end of the
cabin, stand a pair of oars and a mast
with a sail bound around it by the gasket,
the blades of the oars being still
damp, as if not long out of the water.—
From the trunk of this tree to the limb of
another was stretched a cord, knotted at
regular intervals, with strands of twine
pending from each knot. This was the
commencement of a new net, and the
balls of twine, a serving mallet, and marline-spike,
near in a box, showed that the
worker was not far distant, and had been
recently at his task.

The door of the cabin is open: it leads
into a broad, high entry or hall, open to
the very rafters of the roof; but a glance
will tell us that this space was left for a
given purpose, and not from want of
thrift or time to cover the hall. Instead
of a roof or ceiling, its place is supplied
by a boat inverted, so as to form a sort
of arched ceiling. This boat is of peculiar
structure, very long, and narrow
forward and aft, but broad in the beam.
It is a light sea-green color on the outside,
and pure white within; and in reality
forms a very pretty and appropriate
roof or canopy to the central apartment
of the fisher's cottage. It is just the
length of the entry, and in its centre exactly
its breadth. It is suspended in the
mid air by regular davits, and can be
lowered in a moment's time, when, by
being turned on its side, it can easily be
passed out of doors. On each side are
beckets, containing each two long slender
oars, beautifully made, with white
blades and green tips. The entry also
contains, at its furthest extremity, festoons
of dried fish, nets, paddles, oars,
spars, boxes, and is altogether a general
household storage room.

There are doors on either hand, opening
into small, but comfortable rooms,
one of which is a kitchen, the other a bed-room.
In the rear are two other rooms,
one of which is a sort of boat-shop for
repairing, and even building boats, and
the other a ruder sleeping apartment
than the former, which has a carpet woven
of grass upon the floor, and snow-white
curtains to the bed. There are
glimpses of three or four pots of flowers
in the window, though they looked as if
they fared not too well in the hard sea-air
of the cliff. See! there is a bee busily
buzzing and stealing sweets out of one
of the flowers, which shows that they are
more healthy than we at first supposed.
But the bee must have been a far traveller
to wing his way to the sea-side to
gather honey; but, peradventure, he
well knoweth that May Fawn's flowers
are like herself, when compared with
other maidens, sweeter and fairer than
all in the regions round about.

And who is Mary Fawn?

Mary Fawn is the fair flower of the
cliff, whose presence has thrown such a
fragrant beauty over all that we see. It
is the lovely fingers, lovely and taper
though browned with the sea-winds and
the sun—of May Fawn that has taught
the woodbine to cover the naked rock,
as charity clotheth the poor. It is the
busy hand of May Fawn that planted
the wild rose-bush at the door, and trimmed
the honeysuckle over the window.

[figure description] Page 009.[end figure description]

It is the taste of May Fawn that has converted
this bleak sea-cliff, with its acre
of open ground, into a green and tempting
paradise. If thou seest any beauty
in it at all, it is because it first existed
inherent in the pure soul of May Fawn.
The beautiful and picturesque, which
you behold, are but emanations from
her own tasteful self. She has one of
those souls which creates every where,
out of the material, its own image.

The affection of May Fawn led her
to build a cote for the dove, and a tower
for the martin. Her affection gathered
to her bosom the old cat to love, and to
embrace, in her benevolence, the noble
dog Bonus. May Fawn was stamped
upon every thing around. The spirit of
Mary Fawn filled all with its own
beauty.

At the moment we have introduced
the reader to the Fisher's ocean-cot with
all its picturesque beauties, there was no
human being visible to give it life and
character. There was, indeed, the old
black cat, the parrot, the Newfoundland
dog, and the hornless, short-tailed cow,
the doves, and the martins, and the bee
busy at one of the flowers in the window;
and all these lent life and variety to the
scene. But the presence and voice of
man, the prince over all things on earth,
and without whose presence, though
`sin doth follow him as his shadow,' all
would be barren, desolate, without meaning
or end, were wanting to complete the
scene.

The deep quiet and sunny silence
which we have described, continued for
a little time without interruption. Suddenly
Bonus, the tawny old Newfoundlander,
began to prick up his small,
shapely ears, and gently turn his head
as if to listen. A footstep strikes his
ear, but very faintly. His eye looks
lively and interested, and an expression
of pleasure lights up his fine countenance.
The foot-fall becomes more distinct, and
comes from the direction of the rocky
boundary that overhangs the cottage in
the rear. The dog now lifts his head
and looks eagerly, still listening with the
peculiar air of his race; and now he
very slightly moves his shaggy tail.

The steps come nigher and more fully
marked to the ear. The cat, Kate, now
purrs loudly and moves her long whiskers
in a sort of gratified manner. The Poll
Parrot utters a shrill whistle, and calls
loudly and noisily,

`Kate, how's the weather?'

The martins chirp and fly in eccentric
and more joyous circles about the roof,
and even the ugly, black, spotted cow
lifts her head and gazes for an instant in
the direction of the cliff.

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