In one of the many little bays I passed, lay three or four fishing smacks.

The sails were drying, and flapped lazily against the mast.

I could see the figures of the men as they passed backwards ad forwards upon the decks, and although the height was nearly eight hundred feet, could hear their voices quite distinctly.

Upon the golden strand, which was still marked with a deeper tint, where the tide had washed, stood a little white cottage of some fisherman--at least, so the net before the door bespoke it.

Around it, stood some children, whose merry voices and laughing tones sometimes reached me where I was standing.