neighbors。
  Some　say　the　colony　is　Dutch；　some　Danish；　some　Flemish。　The　character
  and　cleanliness　of　their　female　costume　points　rather　to　the　latter。
  Fish；　like　horse…flesh；　corrupts　the　mind　and　manners。
  After　a　certain　age；　the　Newhaven　fishwife　is　always　a　blackguard；　and
  ugly；　but　among　the　younger　specimens；　who　have　not　traded　too　much；　or
  come　into　much　contact　with　larger　towns；　a　charming　modesty；　or　else
  slyness　（such　as　no　man　can　distinguish　from　it；　so　it　answers　every
  purpose）；　is　to　be　found；　combined　with　rare　grace　and　beauty。
  It　is　a　race　of　women　that　the　northern　sun　peachifies　instead　of
  rosewoodizing。
  On　Sundays　the　majority　sacrifice　appearance　to　fashion；　these　turn　out
  rainbows　of　silk；　satin　and　lace。　In　the　week　they　were　all　grace；　and　no
  stays；　now　they　seem　all　stays　and　no　grace。　They　never　look　so　ill　as
  when　they　change　their　〃costume〃　for　〃dress。〃
  The　men　are　smart　fishermen；　distinguished　from　the　other　fishermen　of
  the　Firth　chiefly　by　their　〃dredging　song。〃
  This　old　song　is　money　to　them；　thus：
  Dredging　is　practically　very　stiff　rowing　for　ten　hours。
  Now　both　the　Newhaven　men　and　their　rivals　are　agreed　that　this　song
  lifts　them　through　more　work　than　untuned　fishermen　can　manage。
  I　have　heard　the　song；　and　seen　the　work　done　to　it；　and　incline　to　think
  it　helps　the　oar；　not　only　by　keeping　the　time　true；　and　the　spirit
  alive；　but　also　by　its　favorable　action　on　the　lungs。　It　is　sung　in　a
  peculiar　way；　the　sound　is；　as　it　were；　expelled　from　the　chest　in　a　sort
  of　musical　ejaculations；　and　the　like；　we　know；　was　done　by　the　ancient
  gymnasts；　and　is　done　by　the　French　bakers；　in　lifting　their　enormous
  dough；　and　by　our　paviors。
  The　song；　in　itself；　does　not　contain　above　seventy　stock　verses；　but
  these　perennial　lines　are　a　nucleus；　round　which　the　men　improvise　the
  topics　of　the　day；　giving；　I　know　not　for　what　reason；　the　preference　to
  such　as　verge　upon　indelicacy。
  The　men　and　women　are　musical　and　narrative；　three　out　of　four　can　sing　a
  song　or　tell　a　story；　and　they　omit　few　opportunities。
  Males　and　females　suck　whisky　like　milk；　and　are　quarrelsome　in
  proportion。　The　men　fight　（round…handed）；　the　women　fleicht　or　scold；　in
  the　form　of　a　teapotthe　handle　fixed　and　the　spout　sawing　the　air。
  A　singular　custom　prevails　here。
  The　maidens　have　only　one　sweetheart　apiece！！！
  So　the　whole　town　is　in　pairs。
  The　courting　is　all　done　on　Saturday　night；　by　the　lady's　fire。　It　is
  hard　to　keep　out　of　a　groove　in　which　all　the　town　is　running；　and　the
  Johnstone　had　possessed；　as　mere　propertya　lad！
  She　was　so　wealthy　that　few　of　them　could　pretend　to　aspire　to　her；　so
  she　selected　for　her　chattel　a　young　man　called　Willy　Liston；　a　youth　of
  an　unhappy　turnhe　contributed　nothing　to　hilarity；　his　face　was　a
  kill…joynobody　liked　him；　for　this　female　reason　Christie　distinguished
  him。
  He　found　a　divine　supper　every　Saturday　night　in　her　house；　he　ate；　and
  sighed！　Christie　fed　him；　and　laughed　at　him。
  Flucker　ditto。
  As　she　neither　fed　nor　laughed　at　any　other　man；　some　twenty　were
  bitterly　jealous　of　Willy　Liston；　and　this　gave　the　blighted　youth　a
  cheerful　moment　or　two。
  But　the　bright　alliance　received　a　check　some　months　before　our　tale。
  Christie　was　_heluo　librorum！_　and　like　others　who　have　that　taste；　and
  can　only　gratify　it　in　the　interval　of　manual　exercise；　she　read　very
  intensely　in　her　hours　of　study。　A　book　absorbed　her。　She　was　like　a
  leech　on　these　occasions；　_non　missura　cutem。_　Even　Jean　Carnie；　her
  co…adjutor　or　〃neebor；〃　as　they　call　it；　found　it　best　to　keep　out　of　her
  way　till　the　book　was　sucked。
  One　Saturday　night　Willy　Liston's　evil　star　ordained　that　a　gentleman　of
  French　origin　and　Spanish　dress；　called　Gil　Blas；　should　be　the
  Johnstone's　companion。
  Willy　Liston　arrived。
  Christie；　who　had　bolted　the　door；　told　him　from　the　window；　civilly
  enough；　but　decidedly；　〃She　would　excuse　his　company　that　night。〃
  〃Vara　weel；〃　said　Willy；　and　departed。
  Next　Saturdayno　Willy　came。
  Ditto　the　next。　Willy　was　waiting　the　_amende。_
  Christie　forgot　to　make　it。
  One　day　she　was　passing　the　boats；　Willy　beckoned　her　mysteriously；　he
  led　her　to　his　boat；　which　was　called　〃The　Christie　Johnstone〃；　by　the
  boat's　side　was　a　paint　pot　and　brush。
  They　had　not　supped　together　for　five　Saturdays。
  Ergo；　Mr。　Liston　had　painted　out　the　first　four　letters　of　〃Christie；〃　he
  now　proceeded　to　paint　out　the　fifth；　giving　her　to　understand；　that；　if
  she　allowed　the　whole　name　to　go；　a　letter　every　blank　Saturday；　her
  image　would　be　gradually；　but　effectually；　obliterated　from　the　heart
  Listonian。
  My　reader　has　done　what　Liston　did　not；　anticipate　her　answer。　She
  recommended　him；　while　his　hand　was　in；　to　paint　out　the　entire　name；
  and；　with　white　paint　and　a　smaller　brush；　to　substitute　some　other
  female　appellation。　So　saying；　she　tripped　off。
  Mr。　Liston　on　this　was　guilty　of　the　following　inconsistency；　he　pressed
  the　paint　carefully　out　of　the　brush　into　the　pot。　Having　thus　economized
  his　material；　he　hurled　the　pot　which　contained　his　economy　at　〃the
  Johnstone；〃　he　then　adjourned　to　the　〃Peacock；〃　and　〃away　at　once　with
  love　and　reason。〃
  Thenceforth；　when　men　asked　who　was　Christie　Johnstone's　lad；　the　answer
  used　to　be；　〃She's　seeking　ane。〃　_Quelle　horreur！！_
  Newhaven　doesn't　know　everything；　but　my　intelligent　reader　suspects；
  and；　if　confirming　his　suspicions　can　reconcile　him　to　our　facts；　it　will
  soon　be　done。
  But　he　must　come　with　us　to　Edinburgh；　it's　only　three　miles。
  CHAPTER　VI。
  A　LITTLE　band　of　painters　came　into　Edinburgh　from　a　professional　walk。
  Three　were　of　EdinburghGroove；　aged　fifty；　Jones　and　Hyacinth；　young；
  the　latter　long…haired。
  With　them　was　a　young　Englishman；　the　leader　of　the　expedition；　Charles
  Gatty。
  His　step　was　elastic；　and　his　manner　wonderfully　animated；　without
  loudness。
  〃A　bright　day；〃　said　he。　〃The　sun　forgot　where　he　was；　and　shone；
  everything　was　in　favor　of　art。〃
  〃Oh；　dear；　no；〃　replied　old　Groove；　〃not　where　I　was〃
  〃Why；　what　was　the　matter？〃
  〃The　flies　kept　buzzing　and　biting；　and　sticking　in　the　work。　That's　the
  worst　of　out　o'　doors！〃
  〃The　flies！　is　that　all？　Swear　the　spiders　in　special　constables　next
  time；〃　cried　Gatty。　〃We　shall　win　the　day；〃　and　light　shone　into　his
  hazel　eye。
  〃The　world　will　not　always　put　up　with　the　humbugs　of　the　brush；　who；　to
  imitate　Nature；　turn　their　back　on　her。　Paint　an　out　o'　door　scene
  indoors！　I　swear　by　the　sun　it's　a　lie！　the　one　stupid；　impudent　lie　that
  glitters　among　the　lies　of　vulgar　art；　like　Satan　among　Belial；　Mammon
  and　all　those　beggars。
  〃Now　look　here；　the　barren　outlines　of　a　scene　must　be　looked　at；　to　be
  done；　hence　the　sketching　system　slop…sellers　of　the　Academy！　but　the
  million　delicacies　of　light；　shade；　and　color　can　be　trusted　to　memory；
  can　they？
  〃It's　a　lie　big　enough　to　shake　the　earth　out　of　her　course；　if　any　part
  of　the　work　could　be　trusted　to　memory　or　imagination；　it　happens　to　be
  the　bare　outlines；　and　they　can't。　The　million　subtleties　of　light　and
  color；　learn　them　by　heart；　and　say　them　off　on　canvas！　the　highest　angel
  in　the　sky　must　have　his　eye　upon　them；　and　look　devilish　sharp；　too；　or
  he　shan't　paint　them。　I　give　him　Charles　Gatty's　word　for　that。〃
  〃That's　very　eloquent；　I　call　it；〃　said　Jones。
  〃Yes；〃　said　poor　old　Groove；　〃the　lad　will　never　make　a　painter。〃
  〃Yes；　I　shall；　Groove；　at　least　I　hope　so；　but　it　must　be　a　long　time
  first。〃
  〃I　never　knew　a　painter　who　could　talk　and　paint　both；〃　explained　Mr。
  Groove。
  〃Very　well；〃　said　Gatty。　〃Then　I'll　say　but　one　word　more；　and　it　is
  this。　The　artifice　of　painting　is　old　enough　to　die；　it　is　time　the　art
  was　born。　Whenever　it　does　come　into　the　world；　you　will　see　no　more　dead
  corpses　of　trees；　grass　and　water；　robbed　of　their　life；　the　sunlight；
  and　flung　upon　canvas　in　a　studio；　by　the　light　of　a　cigar；　and　a
  lieand〃
  〃How　much　do　you　expect　for　your　picture？〃　interrupted　Jones。
  〃What　has　that　to　do　with　it？　With　these　little　swords〃　（waving　his
  brush）；　〃we'll　fight　for　nature…light；　truth　light；　and　sunlight　against
  a　world　in　armsno；　worse；　in　swaddling　clothes。〃
  〃With　these　little　swerrds；〃　replied　poor　old　Groove；　〃we　shall　cut　our
  own　throats　if　we　go　against　people's　prejudices。〃
  The　young　artist　laughed　the　old　daubster　a　merry　defiance；　and　then
  separated　from　the　party；　for　his　lodgings　were　down　the　street。
  He　had　not　left　them　long；　before　a　most　musical　voice　was　heard；　crying：
  〃A　caallerr　owoo！〃
  And　two　young　fishwives　hove　in　sight。　The　boys　recognized　one　of　them　as
  Gatty's　sweetheart。
  〃Is　he　in　love　with　her？〃　inquired　Jones。
  Hyacinth　the　long…haired　undertook　to　reply。
  〃He　loves　her　better　than　anything　in　the　world　except　Art。　Love　and　Art
  are　two　beautiful　things；〃　whined　Hyacinth。
  〃She；　too；　is　beautiful。　I　have　done　her；〃　added　he；　with　a　simper。
  〃In　oil？〃　asked　Groove。
  〃In　oil？　no；　in　verse；　here；〃　and　he　took　out　a　paper。
  〃Then　hadn't　we　better　cut？　you　might　propose　reading　them；〃　said　poor
  old　Groove。
  〃Have　you　any　oysters？〃　inquired　Jon