THE WONDERS OF THE SHORE. 157 
He is not here: He is risen. Good reader, you 
will probably agree that to know that saying, is to 
know the key-note of the world to come. Believe 
me, to know it, and all it means, is to know the key- 
note of this world also, from the fall of dynasties and 
the fate of nations, to the sea-weed which rots upon 
the beach. 
It may seem startling, possibly (though I hope 
not, for my readers’ sake, irreverent), to go back at 
once after such thoughts, be they true or false, to 
the weeds upon the cliff above our heads. But He 
who is not here, but is risen, yet is here, and has 
appointed them their services in a wonderful order ; 
and I wish that on some day, or on many days, when 
a quiet sea and offshore breezes have prevented any 
new objects from coming to land with the rising tide, 
you would investigate the flowers peculiar to our sea- 
rocks and sandhills. Even if you do not find the 
delicate lily-like Trichonema of the Channel Islands 
and Dawlish, or the almost as beautiful Squill of 
the Cornish cliffs, or the sea-lavender of North 
Devon, or any of those rare Mediterranean species 
