SOUNDING SHORES 



175 



uneasily upon the pillow, and looks to the 

 window to see the coming light, hears, even 

 in the early morning hours, a shock upon the 

 air, the roar of wide-spread London town; but 

 indicative as it is of human want and misery, 

 pathetic as it may be in its tale of unceasing 

 labor, it has not half the sadness in it of the 

 sounding shore. The pine needles overhead 

 sing in the wind, and there are voices in the 

 stirred leaves of the forest akin to those of 

 the sea; but they are not quite the same. The 

 great shut-in valleys of the Andes and the si- 

 lent sweeps of Sahara with their hum of dis- 

 tance seem to suggest the roar of the ocean, as 

 the sea shell which the child holds to its ear; 

 but again it is only a suggestion. The sound 

 of the surf has its owti inimitable sadness. 



Solemn and deep the recurrent beat of the 

 sea ; and what is there in it that makes us think 

 of Northern shores and Viking days? We 

 somehow never associate the heavy surge with 

 the southern seas, the coral reefs, or the shell- 

 strewn beaches. It has a hollow roar that 

 speaks of caves, fiords, maelstroms, rough seas, 

 bleak coasts, great storms. Unconsciously we 

 conjure up images of Norsemen in their 

 strange-prowed boats, of Icelandic heroes, of 

 Tristans and Iseults, of Balders and Brun- 



The roar of 

 London. 



Other 

 sounds in 

 nature. 



Recurrent 

 beating of 

 the sea. 



