IN NORFOLK BY THE SEA 171 



beats upon the sandhills we will lie with the glass for 

 a last long look. 



Look eastward over the sea. By sunset this ^. 

 evening there will be nothing there but a single 

 distant tower and a thin low line of coast. But now, Hnocjr- 



in the quivering heat, the mirage has lifted the tower - f-JM.axpfi^ 

 up high against the sky, has brought into view the 

 craft lying hidden in the pool, and changed the 

 thin coast-line into lofty cliffs. 



The breeze, for all the heat, is blowing in our 

 faces from the north. Yes, in our faces; for look 

 straight out to sea and you are looking north. More 

 than that. Look out and try to realise that, excepting 

 the blue sea, there lies absolutely nothing between 1 

 yourself and the white lands of the Polar world. The 

 map will tell you there are but three places on our J 

 eastern English coast of which this saying could be 

 true ; and this is one of the three. The blue sea — 

 the ships upon its bosom — the white wings of the 

 wandering gulls — and then the first awakening of 

 that short summer that lies about the borders of the 

 everlasting ice. 



The glass cannot, alas ! show us this, but it 

 does make our watch more interesting. A small 

 group of birds sitting out there on the mud are 



