THE wave's tooth 



159 



ences. In open untimbered places the drift has 

 been almost inconceivable. There are sand 

 hills on the Chihuahua desert that have become 

 mountains in height, yet are continually drift- 

 ing to leeward with the wind. And that the 

 vast sands of Sahara were originally blown in- 

 ward from the western sea shore is not such 

 a wild conjecture. All things are possible in 

 the realm of nature. 



But whatever compensation there may be in 

 sand piled along beach and dune and desert, 

 however this may atone for the loss of the cliffs, 

 it does not stay the destruction. That constant 

 fret at the edge of land and sea goes on for- 

 ever. Century after century running into un- 

 known ages there have been the rub of the wave, 

 the grind of sand and gravel, the pound of 

 surge, and the swish of high-flung spray. Beau- 

 tiful is the sea in all its movements, never more 

 beautiful than when tossing and turning at the 

 foot of the cliff; but in the end the moving 

 glittering sand proves diamond-edged; and the 

 smooth wave, so like a tiger's paw in its velvety 

 touch, shows the sharp claw beneath. A lover 

 moaning at the feet of the Earth — such was 

 the Sea in ancient fable. Yes; but his kisses 

 have worn her away, and his love is the passion 

 that consumes and destroys. 



Sands of 

 Sahara. 



The sea at 

 foot of the 

 cliff. 



The tiger's 

 pnv' and the 

 lover's kiss. 



