eo Star anfr Meatber Gossip 



I could fancy that the North Sea still growled after 

 that recent storm which had strewn our coast with 

 wrecks. It resembled a wild animal whose savage 

 combat had deprived it of its strength and which had 

 become reduced to impotent threatenings. How 

 feebly did ordinary sounds contrast with that space- 

 filling voice of the ocean ! A few interposing footfalls ; 

 the sharp toot of a locomotive ; the rush and rattle 

 of a passing motor-car ; the raucous blowing of a 

 steamer's whistle, all these things were but shadows 

 compared with the substance of sound produced by 

 the surf. 



Daylight made the presence of this ocean voice less 

 dominant, and when the streets awoke to life it no 

 longer held the imagination under thrall, but was 

 merged in the multitudinous yet harmonious and 

 companionable sounds that rise from a flourishing 

 seaport. 



But the land simulated it in its volume and modu- 

 lations. It, however, ran the gamut once only in the 

 day. There was no quick succession of cadences such 

 as the sea-voice produced. In the very early morning 

 it was a thin, wavering note, yet clear and distinct. 

 Gradually it deepened into the mutterings of far-away 

 thunder, which drew nearer and nearer until it could 

 be likened to the muffled boom of heavy surf. Then 

 by slow degrees it subsided to the lulling murmur of 

 midnight and I again heard the sound of the sea rising 

 and falling with the swaying currents of air, and again 

 there came that strange feeling of loneliness. 



Perhaps in those sad notes the sea sang a dirge for 

 the dying summer. 



