96 LEAVES FKOM THE BOOK OF NATUKE. 



ruins of large ships, and the corpses of men. There lie, 

 half covered with lime and slime, the green, decaying gun, 

 and the precious box, filled with the gold of Peru's snow- 

 covered Alps, by the side of countless skeletons, gathered 

 from every race and every clime. There moulders the 

 bald skull of the brave sea captain, by the side of the 

 broken armor of gigantic turtles ; the whaler's harpoon 

 rests peaceably near the tooth of the whale ; thousands 

 of fishes dwell in huge bales of costly silks from India, 

 and over them pass, in silent crowds, myriads of dimin- 

 utive infusoria ; enormous whales, and voracious sharks, 

 chase before them thickly packed shoals of frightened 

 herrings. Here, the sea foams and frets restlessly up 

 curiously-shaped cliffs, and oddly-formed rocks ; there, it 

 moves sluggishly over large plains of white, shining sand. 

 In the morning, the tidal waves break in grim fury against 

 the bald peaks of submarine Alps, or pass, in hissing 

 streams, through ancient forests on their side ; in the even- 

 ing, they glide noiselessly over bottomless abysses, as if 

 afraid, lest they, also, might sink down into the eternal 

 night below, from which rises distant thunder, and the 

 locked up waters roar and rage like evil spirits chained 

 in the vast deep. 



The ocean is a vast charnel house. There are millions 

 and millions of animals mouldering, piled up, layer upon 

 layer, in huge masses, or forming mile-long banks, for 

 no peace is found below, and under the thin, transparent 

 veil, there reigns endless murder, wild warfare, and fierce 

 bloodshed. Infinite, unquenchable hatred seems to dwell 

 in the cold, unfeeling deep. Destruction alone maintains 



