and looked as if he deemed the rolling clouds his listeners. It was by no means unusual for the preachers in those days to exercise their voices over the hills and heaths of their native land: valuing, as they did, power and strength far more than melody and grace, they endeavoured to acquire them by every possible means--nor were they without hope that, (to use their own language,) "the Almighty might bless the seed thus sown, seeing that it was hard to know who might not be within hearing of the precious word." Burrell soon gained the sea-shore, though he was still a considerable distance from Gull's Nest Crag. On arriving at a point that commanded an unbroken prospect of the far-spread sea, he shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked long and earnestly along the waste of waters. Apparently the scrutiny was unsuccessful, for he drew a telescope from beneath his cloak and gazed through it for some minutes, directing it towards several points. At length, with an impatience of manner in which, when with his inferiors or alone, he frequently indulged, he descended the cliff and pursued his way along the beach. As he drew near the little public-house, his ears were greeted by the sound of one of Waller's most popular songs, warbled in a voice so sweet, so pipe-like, that he paused, and looked round to ascertain from whence it proceeded. It ceased. Not even his keen eye could rest on aught resembling human form. He hallooed, but received no answer: yet had he not continued three steps on his way when the song was renewed, as he thought, directly over his head; notwithstanding the roaring of the waves, he even heard the words distinctly-- "Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired." Again he shouted, and a loud and elfin laugh, that danced with the echoes from crag to crag and billow to billow, was sent forth in reply. "Mermaid--Merman--or Demon! where be ye!" cried Burrell, loudly. "Even here, master mine," answered Robin Hays, shaking his large head, over a midway and partly detached portion of the cliff. "Come down, do, you will-o'-the-wisp! In Heaven's name what takes you into such breakneck places?" "The same matter that brings you here, sir," replied Robin, skipping and crawling alternately, suiting his motions to the inequality of the place: "the very same matter that brings you here--a woman." "How know you that, master prate-a-pace? At all events, you have no woman there." "Why, master, seeing you were born under the planet Venus, your whole trouble must be of her making; and, as to there being no woman up here, that matters nothing, for woman's fancy mounts higher than e'er a cliff in England; and to gain their favours we must humour their fancy. A certain damsel that I know, had a curiosity to see a peewit's eggs; so I thought I'd find her some, and here they are." From a pouch made of untanned leather, which hung in front like an apron, he took two small eggs of a greenish hue, spotted with black.