TO THE OCEAX. 11-5 



one of the bathing places upon the coast. As the house was some dis- 

 tance from the beach, and night had already set in, we were obliged to 

 defer our pleasure until the morning; though the deep-toned melody that 

 came roaring over the land, had increased our anxiety into an agony of 

 excitement. 



In the morning we rose with the lark, and hurried, or rather danced 

 as rapidly as the dignity of a graduate would permit, down to the coast, 

 A high and barren hill of pure white sand, washed up by tlie everlast- 

 ing heavings of the sea, entirely intercepted our view, though we could 

 distinctly hear its roaring music not fifty yards before us. When we 

 reached the top of the bank, the whole scene burst upon our view at 

 once — Old Ocean himself, in all his briny mightiness — gilded into the 

 most gorgeous glory by the sun just rising; it was the greatest moment 

 of my life. The first idea that crossed my mind, was, that if there was 

 any reason in any idolatry, it was in that which paid its homage to a 

 being so great, so grand, so seemingly a type of the Eternal and Infinite. 

 To my right and left, a long white plain of sand, glistening like a sea 

 of diamonds, extended as far as the eye could reach, whilst before me 

 the great sea rolled — deep and blue — until it met the bowed horizon. 



I spent the whole day upon the beach, and only they who have done 

 so, can know the thrilling interest and pleasure. It is a noble pas- 

 time to trace a name in deep characters, or stamp a plain foot-print in 

 the yielding sand, and w^atch the coming tide, first boldly rushing until 

 it breaks, then creeping quickly up the beach, sweeping the fine sand 

 before it, obliterating every trace of our labor, and smoothing every 

 thing again as perfectly as before. It types most beautifully the evanes- 

 cence of all man's works and glories, and the perishableness of all hu- 

 man things. 



What glorious sport it is to wait the incoming wave, laden with 

 shells and sea-things^ beautilul and curious, as if to 'tempt and taunt, 

 and then chase them as the receding wave carries them back again to 

 the deep. 



It is glorious and soul-thrilling to watch the far-out wave, as it 

 sports its white crest in the sunlight, and comes rolling and thundering 

 in its foaming magnificence, gathering strength and i*oar every second, 

 as if it would demolish altogether tlie sandy rampart before it ; but even 

 whilst you watch, it breaks with a sullen roar and sends swift its vvaters 

 to the beach, and (as a beautiful writer says,) " kisses it only with a 

 silent murmur." 



It is curious to see the unceasing out-going and in-coming of the 

 waves — but still more to think about it. Day after day, year after year. 



