THE RECEDING TIDE. 155 



cove called Wilder^mouth. It was spring- tide, and 

 the water had just begun to ebb ; presently the sliarp 

 ledges of rock here and there began to peep above 

 tire siu'face, making black oblique lines upon the face 

 of the water only just ruffled by the evening air, and 

 reflecting all the ruddy glow of the north-west sky 

 oj)posite. We thought of the Poet's words : — 



Bright with dilated glory shone the west ; 



But brighter lay the ocean-flood below, 



The burnish'd [golden] sea, that heav'd and flash'd 



Its restless rays, intolerably bright. 



MiDoc, ii. 



The most distant insular peak of rock needed not 

 a warm fancy to form into a couching lion ; the re- 

 semblance was very exact, and soon became even more 

 perfect, by the sinking of the water revealing what 

 seemed his outstretched fore paws. His face, his 

 mane, the undulation of his back, and the rounded 

 haunches were all represented in verisimilitude. 



How rapidly the sea leaves the beach ; yonder is an 

 (U'ea distinguished from the rest by its unruffled smooth- 

 ness on the recess of the wave ; presently a black 

 speck appears on it ; now two or three more ; we fix 

 our eyes on it, and presently the specks thicken, they 

 have become a patch, a patch of gravel ; the waves 

 hide it as they come up, but in an instant or two we 

 predict that it will be covered no more. Meanwhile 

 the dark patch gi'ows on every side ; it is now connect- 

 ed with the beach above, first by a little isthmus at 

 one end, inclosing a pool of clear perfectly smooth 

 water, a miniature lagoon in which the young crescent 



