Chapter XVI 



LIVING LIGHTS THAT NEVER DIE 



The Impressions of youth are most profound — like- 

 wise its illusions. The gentle breeze from over the 

 harbor coming through the open window to my writing 

 table, the stillness of this early hour, the stars seen sus- 

 pended in the outer darkness, like sparkling motes of 

 metallic dust, all bring out in realistic relief the details 

 of an event now remote in time, in distance, and in the 

 potentiality of its circumstances, but one which has to 

 do w^ith a type of creature I presently propose to con- 

 sider. I once stood near the rail of a ship sailing a 

 tropical sea. It was night. There w^as no moon, but 

 across a glittering sky hung the luminous mist of the 

 Milky Way, while standing out sharply above the 

 faintly limned horizon could be seen the silvery radi- 

 ance of the Southern Cross. The reflection of that 

 ghostly stream and of every scintillant point shone with- 

 out a tremor on the unbroken surface of the watery 

 expanse like spangles on a field of sable velvet. 

 Steadily the ship pushed ahead, yet seemed to remain 

 motionless over that vast inverted image of the celes- 

 tial panorama. The dull throbbing of her engines 

 deep dow^n in the waist, and the swift swirling of the 

 w^aters below the forecastle head, where I was stand- 



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