The Glow Spreads West 



( GraecO'Koman) 



THE WATERS sparkle and dance, sun-drenched and wind- 

 tossed. The whole world seems to be a sprightly symphony in 

 blue: blue of every conceivable shade from the deepest azure at 

 the bottom of the wave troughs to the miasmic, powdery blue of 

 the blown spray. Upon the waves dance little waves, and upon them 

 still smaller wavelets, each crimped with flashing ripples. The dome 

 of the sky above is of a deep, liquid aquamarine filled with sailing, 

 fleecy clouds that stream to the east like galleons of the Gods. 

 Everything below glitters under the torrential sunhght as if inter- 

 woven with threads of gold. 



Upon the bosom of this dancing sea a shm Httle vessel pitches 

 lightly, its immensely tall, sharp prow chopping into the blue waters 

 and slicing them into a gash of almost incandescent whiteness in 

 which the spume roils and hisses. The vessel too is painted blue — 

 blue of a clarity and cleanness normally seen only on the surfaces 

 of glazed Persian pottery — and, in keeping with the sea foam, its 

 low rail and tall, slender spars are of a glistening white. Its face — 



