THICK ICE 



It was humorously like a fellow towns- 

 man having trouble with Central so far 

 as inflection went, but there was a quality 

 in the tone which barred the human. 

 You had but to listen with closed eyes 

 to know that here spoke the primal forces 

 of nature. You may hear that same 

 quality in the voice of a gale at sea. I 

 don't mean the shrilling of the wind in 

 the rigging, or the cry of the waters, 

 even, but that burbling undertone of the 

 upper air currents, growling and shouting 

 at one another as they roar by far over- 

 head. An Arabian might say these are 

 the voices of Afrites, journeying through 

 the air to the kingdom of Ethiopia. So 

 even in the bright sun of that springlike 

 morning these solemn voices of the winter 

 ice seemed like echoes of messages super- 

 human, passing from deep to deep. 



At the time I laid the cause to the 

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