Eight Bells 



Was it Emerson who wrote of dis- 

 liking the sea, because it seemed to 

 him emblematic only of death? I love 

 it; and see in its depths, and hear in 

 its voices, life everlasting and infinity. 

 I like everything about it, from the 

 porpoises that play about the plough- 

 ing* steamer's bow to the pelicans that 

 wing their unmolested way around 

 Useppa's Isle. 



There is a peculiar fascination about 

 any old port that serves as a base for 

 a fishing fleet. The stories that could 

 be told by the docks of Gloucester 

 were certainly not exhausted in "Cap- 

 tains Courageous." And one can con- 

 ceive of nothing more impressive than 

 that annual mid-summer ceremony 

 there in memory of the many who 

 have sailed away for "the banks" 

 from the quaint old town never to re- 

 turn. Flowers strewn upon the ebbing 

 tide bear sea-ward the message which, 

 let us hope, is somewhere received and 

 understood. The bell that warns of 

 [169] 



