Christie, the Kings Servant | Page 2

been up for many nights with her
during her last illness, and I had had my rest broken for so long, that I
found it very difficult to sleep, and in many ways I was far from well.
My aunt had left all her little property to me, so that the means to leave
London and to take a suitable holiday were not wanting. The question
was, where should I go? I was anxious to combine, if possible, pleasure
and business--that is to say, I wished to choose some quiet place where
I could get bracing air and thorough change of scene, and where I could
also find studies for my new picture, which was (at least, so I fondly
dreamed) to find a place in the Academy the following spring.
It was whilst I was looking for a suitable spot that Tom Bernard, my
great friend and confidant, found one for me.
'Jack, old fellow,' he said, thrusting a torn newspaper into my hand,
'read that, old man.'
The newspaper was doubled down tightly, and a great red cross of
Tom's making showed me the part he wished me to read.
RUNSWICK BAY.
This charming seaside resort is not half so well known as it deserves to
be. For the lover of the beautiful, for the man with an artistic eye, it
possesses a charm which words would fail to describe. The little bay is
a favourite resort for artists; they, at least, know how to appreciate its
beauties. It would be well for any who may desire to visit this
wonderfully picturesque and enchanting spot to secure hotel or
lodging-house accommodation as early as possible, for the demand for
rooms is, in August and September, far greater than the supply.

'Well, what do you think of it?' said Tom.
'It sounds just the thing,' I said; 'fresh air and plenty to paint.'
'Shall you go?'
'Yes, to-morrow,' I replied; 'the sooner the better.'
My bag was soon packed, my easel and painting materials were
collected, and the very next morning I was on my way into Yorkshire.
It was evening when I reached the end of my long, tiring railway
journey; and when, hot and dusty, I alighted at a village which lay
about two miles from my destination. I saw no sign of beauty as I
walked from the station; the country was slightly undulating in parts,
but as a rule nothing met my gaze but a long flat stretch of field after
field, covered, as the case might be, with grass or corn. Harebells and
pink campion grew on the banks, and the meadows were full of ox-eye
daisies; but I saw nothing besides that was in the least attractive, and
certainly nothing of which I could make a picture.
A family from York had come by the same train, and I had learnt from
their conversation that they had engaged lodgings for a month at
Runswick Bay. The children, two boys of ten and twelve, and a little
fair-haired girl a year or two younger, were full of excitement on their
arrival.
'Father, where is the sea?' they cried. 'Oh, we do want to see the sea!'
'Run on,' said their father, 'and you will soon see it.'
So we ran together, for I felt myself a child again as I watched them,
and if ever I lagged behind, one or other of them would turn round and
cry, 'Come on, come on; we shall soon see it.'
Then, suddenly, we came to the edge of the high cliff, and the sea in all
its beauty and loveliness burst upon us. The small bay was shut in by
rocks on either side, and on the descent of the steep cliff was built the

little fishing village. I think I have never seen a prettier place.
The children were already running down the steep, rocky path--I cannot
call it a road--which led down to the sea, and I followed more slowly
behind them. It was the most curiously built place. The fishermen's
cottages were perched on the rock, wherever a ledge or standing place
could be found. Steep, narrow paths, or small flights of rock-hewn
steps, led from one to another. There was no street in the whole place;
there could be none, for there were hardly two houses which stood on
the same level. To take a walk through this quaint village was to go up
and down stairs the whole time.
At last, after a long, downward scramble, I found myself on the shore,
and then I looked back at the cliff and at the irregular little town. I did
not wonder that artists were to be found there. I had counted four as I
came down the hill, perched on different platforms on the rock,