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THE SPINSTER'S MAYING.
"_The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit;
In every street these tunes our ears do greet--
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-wee, to-witta-woo!
Spring, the sweet Spring_."
At two o'clock on May morning a fishing-boat, with a small row-boat in
tow, stole up the harbour between the lights of the vessels that lay
at anchor. She came on a soundless tide, with her sprit-mainsail
wide and drawing, and her foresail flapping idle; and although her
cuddy-top and gunwale glistened wet with a recent shower, the man who
steered her looked over his shoulder at the waning moon, and decided
that the dawn would be a fine one. A furlong below the Town Quay he
left the tiller and lowered sail: two furlongs above, he dropped
anchor: then, having made all ship-shape, he lit a pipe and pulled an
enormous watch from his fob. The vessels he had passed
