FASCINATION OF THE SEA. 93 



or Germany, where we have been before, it may be expected 

 that the more powerful attraction of marine treasures will 

 entirely conquer hesitation. 



The fact is, the sea is a passion. Its fascination, like all 

 true fascination, makes us reckless of consequences. The 

 sea is like a woman : she lures us, and we run madly after 

 her ; she ill-uses us, and we adore her ; beautifid, capricious, 

 tender, and terrible ! There is no satiety in this love ; there 

 never is satiety in true affection. The sea is the first thing 

 which meets my eyes in the morning, placidly sunning herself 

 under my window ; her many voices beckoning me, her 

 gently-heaving breast alluring me, her face beaming with 

 unutterable delight. All through the day I wanton with 

 her; and the last thino- at nio-ht, I see the lono- shimmering 

 track of light from the distant beacon thrown across her 

 tranquil surface — dark now, and solemn, made more desolate 

 by the dark and silent hulls of anchored vessels, but beauti- 

 ful even in her sombre and forlorn condition. I hear her 

 mighty sighs answering the wailing night-winds. She lures 

 me to her. I cannot go to bed. Let me wander along the 

 sands and gaze upon that solemn gloom, stretching mysteri- 

 ously afar. I walk down to the quay ; all is silent, except 

 in one boat, where a knot of men are just about to start for 

 their night's fishing. They will be out all night, toiling 

 through the terrible waters to gain a few shillings. I bid 

 Jack bring me a cuttlefish if he can. " Good night, sir." — 

 " Good night, and good cheer." And away the boat speeds 

 into the night. It is soon invisible ; the plash of the oars 

 ceases to reach my ears. There is something pathetic in the 



