Navy-blue guernsey, and trousers stained by the sea, scarce hiding the ribbed muscles; Tan-red face, the fresh blood showing through; Blue eyes, all of a flash with fishing and the joy of hauling 'em in; now on the luff of the sail (out of habit, there being hardly a sail-full of air), now to wind'ard, and again smiling on the child; Big pendulous russet hands, white in the palms from salt water, and splashed with scales-- Hands that seem implements rather, appearing strangely no part of the man, but something, like the child, that has grown away from him and has taken a life of its own-- Strong for a sixteen-foot sweep, delicate to handle the silken snood of a line-- A man that the winds and the spray have blown on, gnarled and bent to the sea's own liking, The Father! And the boy-- Like delicate dawn to the sunset was the child to his father-- A sturdy slight little figure, as straight as the mast, A grey and more gently coloured figure, glancing round with the father's self-same gestures softened, and with childish trustful sea-blue eyes; Pattering with naked feet on the stern-sheets, and hauling the fish with a wary cat-like motion.... O splendid and beautiful pair! O man of the sea! O child growing up to the sea! You have given yourselves to the waters, and the waters have given of their spirit to you, And I know when you speak that the sea is speaking through you, And I know when I look at the sea, 'tis the likeness of your souls, And I know that as I love you, I am loving also the sea-- O splendid and beautiful portions of the sea! 18 [Sidenote: _MRS FINN'S PROFESSIONS_]