CHAPTER VIII. 



OFF SHORE. 



WHO has not heard, amid the heat and din of 

 cities, the voice of the sea striking suddenly into 

 the hush of thought its penetrating note of mystery 

 and longing ? Then work and the fever which goes 

 with it vanished on the instant, and in the crowded 

 street or in the narrow room there rose the vision 

 of unbroken stretches of sky, free winds, and the 

 surge of the unresting waves. That invitation 

 never loses its alluring power ; no distance wastes 

 its music, and no preoccupation silences its solici 

 tation. It stirs the oldest memories, and awakens 

 the most primitive instincts ; the long past speaks 

 through it, and through it the buried generations 

 snatch a momentary immortality. History that has 

 left no record, rich and varied human experiences 

 that have no chronicle, rise out of the forgetfulness 

 in which they are engulfed, and are puissant once 

 more in the intense and irresistible longing with 

 which the heart answers the call of the sea. Once 

 more the blood flows with fuller pulse, the eye 

 flashes with conscious freedom and power, the 

 heart beats to the music of wind and wave, as in 

 the days when the fathers of a long past spread sail 

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