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Updated: May 10, 2025
"Some years afterwards," he writes, "one of my assistants on a visit to the Stones of Stennis took shelter from a storm in a cottage close by the lake; and seeing a box-measuring-line in the bole or sole of the cottage window, he asked the woman where she got this well-known professional appendage.
He had scarcely reached the Stones of Stennis when he saw her leaning against one of them. The strange western light was over her thoughtful face. She seemed to have become a part of the still and solemn landscape. John had always loved her with a species of reverence; to-night he felt almost afraid of her beauty and the power she had over him.
For the place was Midway Island; the point of view the very spot at which I had landed with the captain for the first time, and from which I had re-embarked the day before we sailed. I had already been gazing for some seconds before my attention was arrested by a blur on the sea-line, and, stooping to look, I recognised the smoke of a steamer. "Yes," said I, turning toward Stennis, "it has merit.
He sits, and smokes, and giggles, and sometimes he makes small jests; but his contributions to the art of pleasing are generally confined to looking like a gentleman and being one. No," added Stennis, "he'll never suit you, Dodd; you like more head on your liquor. You'll find him as dull as ditch water." "Has he big blonde side-whiskers like tusks?" I asked, mindful of the photograph of Goddedaal.
Dijon proposed an adjournment to a café, there to finish the afternoon on beer; the elder Stennis revolted at the thought, moved for the country a forest, if possible and a long walk. At once the English speakers rallied to the name of any exercise; even to me, who have been often twitted with my sedentary habits, the thought of country air and stillness proved invincibly attractive.
I will give two more instances of their superstition. When Sir Walter Scott visited the Stones of Stennis, my grandfather put in his pocket a hundred-foot line, which he unfortunately lost.
Something about his appearance troubled her, and she went to the open door and stood waiting for him. "What is it, Geordie?" "I am bidden to tell thee, Margaret Sinclair, to be at the Stanes o' Stennis to-night at eleven o'clock." "Who trysts me there, Geordie, at such an hour?" "Thy brother; but thou'lt come yes, thou wilt."
"Ronald is all right, father." "A' wrong, thou means, lassie. There's three vessels waiting to be loaded, an' the books sae far ahint that I kenna whether I'm losing or saving. Where is he?" "Not far away. He will be at the Stones of Stennis this week some time with an Englishman he fell in with at Perth." "I wonder, now, was it for my sins or his ain that the lad has sic auld world notions?
For the place was Midway Island; the point of view the very spot at which I had landed with the captain for the first time, and from which I had re-embarked the day before we sailed. I had already been gazing for some seconds, before my attention was arrested by a blur on the sea-line; and stooping to look, I recognised the smoke of a steamer. "Yes," said I, turning toward Stennis, "it has merit.
"Do let me ask you to share my bottle. They call it Chambertin, which it isn't; but it's fairly palatable, and there's nothing in this house that a man can drink at all." I accepted; anything would do that paved the way to better knowledge. "Your name is Madden, I think," said I. "My old friend Stennis told me about you when I came."
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