Anne.
The clouds are scudding over the sky in great masses of copper color
and gold, parting every here and there, and showing glimpses of clear
translucent blue beyond.
And how quickly the whole panorama changes as the sun sinks to his bed in
the sea. Anon everything was golden and amethystine, like a foreshadowing
of the splendor of the New Jerusalem. A moment later and all is a deep
vivid crimson, flooding the scene with its rich radiance and casting into
shade even the tints of yon tall sumach tree in the prime of its early
autumn coloring. The old grey slate boulders on the beach are illumined
by it, and stand out in prominence from the yellow sands.
All is still to-night, save for the beating of the waves against the
rocks, or ever and anon the sound of a gun fired from the distant
light-house.
The light-house of Father Point stands out clear and distinct on a long
neck of rocky land running into the St. Lawrence.
All is still. But hark! A song comes faintly, carried on the evening
breeze, and presently it grows clearer, louder, more distinct.
The words now can be heard plainly.
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