friend, a man of uncommon natural gifts, and that varied experience of
life which does so much to supply the want of other means of
education. He must have been a handsome man in his youth, and though
time and hardship had done their utmost to make a ruin of his bold
features, and had made it needful to braid his still jetty black locks
together to cover his bald crown, his was a fine, striking head yet,
to my boyish fancy. I loved to sit at his feet, and hear him tell the
events of sixty years of toil and danger, suffering and well-earned
joy, as he leaned with both hands upon his stout staff, his body
swaying with the earnestness of his speech. His labors and perils were
now ended, and in his age and infirmity he had found a quiet haven. He
had built a small house by the side of the home of his childhood, and
his son, who followed his father's vocation, lived under the same
roof. This son and two daughters were all that remained to him of a
large family.

"An easterly bank and a westerly glim are certain signs of a wet
skin!" said the fisherman, pointing to the heavy black masses of cloud
that hung over the eastern horizon, one morning when I had risen at
sunrise for a day's fishing. "'T won't do; don't go out to-day!
There's soon such a breeze off shore, as, with the heavy chop, would
make you sick enough! Besides, the old dory won't put up with such a
storm as is coming. No fishing, my boy, to-day."

His old father said, "Stephen is right. There is a blow brewing." And
he came to look, leaning on his cane. "Stay in to-day."

I yielded, and the sky during the morning slowly assumed a dull,
leaden hue. The storm came on in the afternoon, heavily pattering, and
pouring, and blowing against the windows, and obscuring the little