There is a sheltered quay at Kilronan, the chief village of the largest of the Arran Isles. Through my half-closed eyes I saw that a black-whiskered coast-guard was somewhat surprised at landing the scarce denly a familiar voice came from the gloom, saying, "Are ye there, ma'am?" "Is that you, Flanigan?" I returned. "It is meself, indeed," he said, with a chuckle. "I brought over to-day a grand gentleman from Dublin, who is the gov-ly animate piece of humanity which I ernment inspector of the fisheries, and hearing that you were just going, I come to say godspeed. Take my word, it's a fine island you are going to, for I have been there meself, and in it I drank the most beautiful draught of bottled porter I ever tasted in me life." At this moment the boat shot out from the land, like the spray driven back into the sea. It was so dark that the sea and sky appeared only a leaden mass against the black shore we were quitting; the novelty of the thing, the fresh sea breeze, and the bounding motion of the boat, gave me for a while a sense of great exhilaration, but as the full sweep of the Atlantic became more and more evident, my enthusiasm changed to the most heart-felt disgust. I had tossed on the billows of many seas in larger craft, and had felt certain pride, as everybody does who is never seasick, in feeling myself master of the steed I rode; but on this occasion my pride was, as it were, shipwrecked, and I felt that I was wretchedly, miserably seasick. When morning came I revived, and saw a flat gray line on the horizon, toward which we had been tacking half the night. By the fuller light of the day I saw a treeless island stretched before me, on one side of which the yellow sand melted into the bay, and on the other the dark cliffs frowned defiance on the great Atlantic. As I watched the waves break against the cliffs many miles off, and spend themselves in tall columns of white foam that seemed like the ghost of the ocean's wrath, and were flung back upon her waves again, I reproached myself for having undergone so many hardships to see what promised to be so forlorn and desolate a place. Vol. LX.-No. 359.-44 represented. With much kindness my luggage was placed ashore, and we were both conveyed rather than conducted to a whitewashed habitation, designated, in black letters over a green door, as the "Atlantic Hotel." Whether it was because I was seasick, or that the place was really filthy, I know not, but when I entered my room the atmosphere seemed thick with the odor of salt fish and tar. Disgust gave me courage to sally out for a walk while my rooms were being prepared. On my return the shades of evening gave relief to the glowing fire prepared for me, the bare floor was covered with a felt carpet, and there was an appearance of cleanliness and comfort which I had not anticipated. I listened with a certain satisfaction to the wild waves which broke into spray a few feet from my window, thinking, for all their howlings they could not make me the wretch they bore upon their bosom the preceding night. BEFORE the wine-shop which o'erlooks the beach Yes, lads-hear him say- We set all sail. The breeze was fair and stiff. My boyhood had been passed 'neath yonder cliff, Ah me! what children suffer no man knows! And as I went about the decks my arm Was always raised to fend my face from harm. He was Newfoundland. Black, they called him there. His eyes were golden brown, and black his hair Poor Black! I think of him so often still! At first we had fair winds our sails to fill, leak; Her hold filled fast. We found we had to seek Like a whole broadside boomed the awful crack. Landsmen can have no notion Of how it feels to sink beneath the ocean. For Black, I mean-who seized my jacket tight, Boy though I was, my heart was brave and stout, My poor dog licked me with his tender tongue. I watched in vain. No sail appeared in sight. "What can this mean?" I cried, yet shook with fear, Need I say more? I have killed men-ay, many-in my day, Two English jailers, stabbed them through and I did-confound them! But yet even now LUCA DELLA ROBBIA AND HIS SCHOOL. THE Or a jewel among tawdry ornaments and ghastly daubs; or on some lonely mountain a magnificent group of celestial faces will light up a gloomy convent chapel, and he will know that a new spring of pleasure has been opened to him, and rejoice over it as great spoil. HE works of Luca della Robbia are not | has never felt its loveliness before. among those which compel instan- he may stroll into a country church, and taneous admiration even from uninstruct- a Robbian medallion will shine forth as ed eyes. On the contrary, they are usually regarded at first with indifference, if not with disappointment, by the ordinary traveller, however he may veil his feelings under the phrases which his guidebook and his artistic friends prescribe. Nay, he may even live among these works for years without ever having a real sense of their beauty, so overpowering are the mightier triumphs of art by which he is surrounded. But on some day when he is not thinking of them at all, as he passes on his way a cherub face will flash out upon him, and he will wonder that he Happily the age which produced this work was capable of appreciating it. Hardly any important building was erected in Tuscany, from the time when Luca della Robbia perfected his invention till its secret died out with his followers, that did not boast among its chief ornaments some specimen of Robbian art. Nor was the rage for terra-cotta decoration confined to Tuscany, or even to Italy, but it soon extended all over Europe. Luca della Robbia was born in Florence in 1400, at the beginning of that wonderful period of fruitfulness in arts and letters which we call the Renaissance. Both time and place were full of inspiration and artistic impulse. Arnolfo's great cathedral was awaiting its dome; Giotto's campanile was nearing the completion of its perfect beauty; the stately walls of Santa Croce were being reared to receive the mighty dead of Florence-on all sides were the signs not only of material prosperity, but of an enlightened use of that prosperity. Churches, hospitals, and palaces were springing up everywhere, and the gold which had flowed so freely into Florentine coffers was being as freely spent. All classes of citizens felt an equal pride in the beautifying of their common home. "The country," la patria, did not then mean to the multitude what it now does; only the aspirations of poets or the ambition of tyrants associated it with the whole of Italy; to the noble it was the petty state which he helped to defend and aggrandize; and to the burgher it did not practically signify much beyond the walls of his own city. Within these narrow limits pride and affection were concentrated, and wealth was lavished. |