Erema; Or, My Father's SinBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
History
Erema; Or, My Father's Sin
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
California -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Fathers and daughters -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Bruntsea is a quiet little village on the southeast coast of England, in
Kent or in Sussex, I am not sure which, for it has a constitution of its
own, and says that it belongs to neither. It used to be a place of size
and valor, furnishing ships, and finding money for patriotic purposes.
And great people both embarked and landed, one doing this and the other
that, though nobody seems to have ever done both, if history is to be
relied upon. The glory of the place is still preserved in a seal and
an immemorial stick, each of which is blessed with marks as
incomprehensible as could be wished, though both are to be seen for
sixpence. The name of the place is written in more than forty different
ways, they say; and the oldest inhabitant is less positive than the
youngest how to spell it.
This village lies in the mouth, or rather at the eastern end of the
mouth, of a long and wide depression among the hills, through which a
sluggish river wins its muddy consummation. This river once went far
along the sea-brink, without entering (like a child who is afraid to
bathe), as the Adur does at Shoreham, and as many other rivers do. And
in those days the mouth and harbor were under the cliff at Bruntsea,
whence its seal and corporation, stick, and other blessings. But three
or four centuries ago the river was drawn by a violent storm, like a
badger from his barrel, and forced to come straight out and face the
sea, without any three miles of dalliance. The time-serving water
made the best of this, forsook its ancient bed (as classic nymphs and
fountains used to do), and left poor Bruntsea with a dry bank, and
no haven for a cockle-shell. A new port, such as it is, incrusted the
fickle jaw of the river; piles were driven and earth-works formed, lest
the water should return to its old love; and Bruntsea, as concerned
her traffic, became but a mark of memory. Her noble corporation never
demanded their old channel, but regarded the whole as the will of
the Lord, and had the good sense to insist upon nothing except their
time-honored ceremonies.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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