248 



THE OPAL SEA 



The full- 

 rigged ship. 



Colors of 

 her sails. 



is born not made. Yet considered by itself 

 the sail boat is a marvel of grace; and to this 

 latest day it is still a grand sight to see a 

 full-rigged ship bowling down the bay, bound 

 for the open sea, 



"With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, 

 Sails fill'd, and streamers waving, 

 Courted by all the winds that hold them play." 



And how splendidly picturesque she is as she 

 foots it out to sea with her spread of silver 

 canvas showing against the blue sky and slashed 

 here and there by light and shade ! She pitches 

 and lifts, careens and rights again; and all her 

 canvas goes rolling with her — not violently, but 

 gently drifting like white clouds in summer 

 weather. Perhaps at evening she is standing 

 still upon the horizon, half-becalmed, flattened 

 against a purple bank of sea mist, and the orange 

 hues of sunset are weaving strange colors in 

 her drooping sails; or, stranger still, if from 

 the Golden Gate she beats out to sea against a 

 yellow sunset, all her sails turn azure ; or if the 

 sun be red the sails assume a fairy green. 



The sun is, indeed, a wonderful alchemist 

 and loves to throw delicate, complementary and 

 reflected colors on neutral grounds. And noth- 

 ing could be a finer field than a great, white 



