With an east wind the sea is always musical. It 

 breaks forth in its solemn chant, as though the 

 wind were an influence that awakened memories 

 of the immeasurable past, and inspired this primi- 

 tive song. From a distance it comes like a rhyth- 

 mical murmur upon the horizon, and it is strange 

 how this sound will fall upon unheeding ears, and 

 then with what suddenness one becomes aware of 

 it. At times it loses its rhythmical character and 

 becomes a sort of recitative. One imagines the 

 venerable sea to be muttering of its epic past to 

 be relating that wonderful saga. 



Yesterday the sea was glass. It lay tranquil as 

 if never again could its surface be ruffled. So 

 indefinite was the sky-line it was difficult to tell 

 which was sky and which water, a dream-ocean, 

 a charming vision, which was to dissolve like a 

 mirage of the desert. 



This morning how it was changed ! Up from 

 the shore came a muffled and ominous growl. As 

 one approached, this ceased, and there was instead 

 the spitting and hissing of little waves a sound 

 of irritation and suppressed anger. The sea was 

 leaden, aggressive, formidable. It was as if some 

 troubled spirit had entered there it was possessed 



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