The village, too, renewed itself with the new almshouses and church.  There were old houses rebuilt and fresh ones reared, and all are ours, except the Why Not? which still remains the Duchy Inn.  And that was let again, and men left the Choughs at Ringstave and came back to their old haunt, and any shipwrecked or travel-worn sailor found board and welcome within its doors.

And of the Mohune Hospital—­for that was what the alms-houses were now called—­Master Glennie was first warden, with fair rooms and a full library, and Master Ratsey head of the Bedesmen.  There they spent happier days, till they were gathered in the fullness of their years; and sleep on the sunny side of the church, within sound of the sea, by that great buttress where I once found Master Ratsey listening with his ear to ground.  And close beside them lies Elzevir Block, most faithful and most loved by me, with a text on his tombstone:  ’Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friend,’ and some of Mr. Glennie’s verses.

And of ourselves let me speak last.  The Manor House is a stately home again, with trim lawns and terraced balustrades, where we can sit and see the thin blue smoke hang above the village on summer evenings.  And in the Manor woods my wife and I have seen a little Grace and a little John and little Elzevir, our firstborn, play; and now our daughter is grown up, fair to us as the polished corners of the Temple, and our sons are gone out to serve King George on sea and land.  But as for us, for Grace and me, we never leave this our happy Moonfleet, being well content to see the dawn tipping the long cliff-line with gold, and the night walking in dew across the meadows; to watch the spring clothe the beech boughs with green, or the figs ripen on the southern wall:  while behind all, is spread as a curtain the eternal sea, ever the same and ever changing.  Yet I love to see it best when it is lashed to madness in the autumn gale, and to hear the grinding roar and churn of the pebbles like a great organ playing all the night.  ’Tis then I turn in bed and thank God, more from the heart, perhaps, than, any other living man, that I am not fighting for my life on Moonfleet Beach.  And more than once I have stood rope in hand in that same awful place, and tried to save a struggling wretch; but never saw one come through the surf alive, in such a night as he saved me.