Monitress Merle

The warm, mellow September sunshine was streaming over the irregular roofs andtwisted chimneys of the little town of Chagmouth, and was glinting on the water inthe harbour, and sending gleaming, straggling, silver lines over the deep reflectionsof the shipping moored by the side of the jetty. The rising tide, lapping slowly andgently in from the ocean, was floating the boats beached on the shingle, and wasgradually driving back the crowd of barefooted children who had ventured out insearch of mussels, and was sending them, shrieking with mirth, scampering up theseaweed-covered steps that led to the fish market. On the crag-top above the townthe corn had been cut, and harvesters were busy laying the sheaves together instooks. The yellow fields shone in the afternoon light as if the hill were crownedwith gold.