"She had won, you must know, a book as a reward for writing the best essay on the subject given, and, with the other successful children, was undergoing a vivâ voce examination.
"'Well, my dear,' said the gentleman who had given away the prizes, 'can you tell me why it is cruel to dock horses' tails and trim dogs' ears?' 'Because,' answered the little girl, 'what God has joined together let no man put asunder.'"
An explosion of childish laughter follows my story, and then the little ones troop up in silence to bed. I sit on, quietly looking into the fire, and as I sit so the voices of my friends seem to grow distant, and I fall into a reverie.
Daft Bess
BY
Kate Burnley Belt
A Cornish story of a girl's sorrow.
Up and down the little pier they paced in quarter-deck fashion, each with his hands tucked deep down in the pockets of his sea-blanket coat, and his oilskin cap pulled well over his ears.
They were very silent in their walk, these three old men, who had watched the breakers come and go at Trewithen for over sixty years, and handled the ropes when danger threatened. Trewithen Cove had sheltered many a storm-driven ship within their memories, and there were grave-mounds in the churchyard on the cliff still unclaimed and unknown that had been built up by their hands.