fore legs of these thoroughbred horses passing! Small and slender, the
hoof, as the limb rises, seems to hang by a thread, yet there is strength
and speed in those sinews. Strength is often associated with size, with
the mighty flank, the round barrel, the great shoulder. But I marvel more
at the manner in which that strength is conveyed through these slender
sinews; the huge brawn and breadth of flesh all depend upon these little
cords. It is at these junctions that the wonder of life is most evident.
The succession of well-shaped horses, overtaking and passing, crossing,
meeting, their high-raised heads and action increase the impression of
pleasant movement. Quick wheels, sometimes a tandem, or a painted coach,
towering over the line,--so rolls the procession of busy pleasure. There
is colour in hat and bonnet, feathers, flowers, and mantles, not
brilliant but rapidly changing, and in that sense bright. Faces on which
the sun shines and the wind blows whether cared for or not, and lit up
thereby; faces seen for a moment and immediately followed by others as
interesting; a flowing gallery of portraits; all life, life! Waiting
unobserved under the awning, occasionally, too, I hear voices as the
throng goes by on the pavement--pleasant tones of people chatting and
the human sunshine of laughter. The atmosphere is full of movement, full
of light, and life streams to and fro.

Yonder, over the road, a row of fishermen lean against the rails of the
cliff, some with their backs to the sea, some facing it. "The cliff" is
rather a misnomer, it is more like a sea-wall in height. This row of
stout men in blue jerseys, or copper-hued tan frocks, seems to be always
there, always waiting for the tide--or nothing. Each has his particular
position; one, shorter than the rest, leans with his elbows backwards on
the low rail; another hangs over and looks down at the site of the fish
market; an older man stands upright, and from long habit looks steadily
out to sea. They have their hands in their pockets; they appear fat and