172 



THE OPAL SEA 



Wave 



traceries in 

 the sand. 



Shore line 

 in minia- 

 hire. 



C'olorinq of 

 the shore. 



Down, down it rushes, dragging with it sand, 

 shells, and pebbles ; and gathering its forces to- 

 gether disappears under the base of the new 

 wave that is forming. Nothing is left of it 

 but a ring of froth and the lines in the sand 

 made by the retreating water. Very beautiful 

 again are these lines — these wave traceries left 

 for a few seconds on the beach. A glimpse of 

 them between the come and go of the waters 

 may reveal a whole shore line in miniature, 

 with bays, creeks, cliffs, and beaches all in place. 

 Higher up on the beach where the waves have 

 worn deeper perhaps, there may be steps sur- 

 rounding a half-circle suggestive of a Eoman 

 arena, or rolls of sand with valleys in between 

 in very form of the waves themselves, or little 

 fiords cut back into the dunes with steep banks 

 or basins where the salt water stands in pools 

 and sea weeds grow, and the drip of iron stain 

 from near-by rocks colors the pool a bright 

 orange. 



These mirrors that come and go, the wet 

 sands, the still ponds that lie in beach pockets, 

 the pools that gather under the stern of some 

 half-buried wreck or rest in some catch-basin 

 of the rocks, play with the sea itself an im- 

 portant part in the coloring of the shore. They 

 are all reflectors of light; and light, falling as 



