::::"::3e WAVES OF THE SEA as:::;:::: 



called to us, their wild laughter ringing out above the 

 whistle of the wind throuofh the rio-g-inp-. 



When at last we left behind the zone of winter, the 

 breeze came softened by the balminess which a north- 

 ern sojourner never knows. 



Vessels built by human hands had been few and 

 far between, but now we passed a real ship of the sea, 



LIVING PORTUGUESE MAN-O'-WAR, BEACHED 



a tiny galleon of crystal, which floated by, drifting 

 before the wind, silent as the Flying Dutchman. 



We were the only ones who hailed it — perhaps the 

 only ones who could call its name — a Portuguese 



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