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THE SPINSTER'S MAYING.

"_The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit;  In every street these tunes our ears do greet--           Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-wee, to-witta-woo!                       Spring, the sweet Spring_."

At two o'clock on May morning a fishing-boat, with a small row-boat in tow, stole up the harbour between the lights of the vessels that lay at anchor. She came on a soundless tide, with her sprit-mainsail wide and drawing, and her foresail flapping idle; and although her cuddy-top and gunwale glistened wet with a recent shower, the man who steered her looked over his shoulder at the waning moon, and decided that the dawn would be a fine one. A furlong below the Town Quay he left the tiller and lowered sail: two furlongs above, he dropped anchor: then, having made all ship-shape, he lit a pipe and pulled an enormous watch from his fob. The vessels he had passed