OCTOBER 55 



Once every year, in the autumn, and sometimes twice, 

 I go to the east coast, and the house is so absolutely 

 on the seashore that this description in 'Country 

 Pleasures' exactly suits what I feel when I am there. 

 It is, I think, so good that it may be an inducement for 

 my readers to get the book for themselves : ' It is often 

 said that the sea is both monotonous and melancholy, 

 but the longer we remain in its close neighbourhood the 

 less are we disposed to allow that it is monotonous. 

 Melancholy it may be, as it is fierce or wild or lovely by 

 turns, but it is not monotonous. Rather it is, next to 

 the sky, the most changeful thing we know: and by this 

 I do not mean only the obvious motion and restlessness 

 of the waves, but the more subtle and ever -varying 

 alternation of the whole aspect of the sea. It is usual 

 to suppose that these moods are mainly in the mind of 

 the observer; but that is not so. The sea, like nature 

 generally, has its own absolute conditions — conditions 

 which prompt and suggest, rather than follow, emotions 

 in the mind of man. To feel all this, however, one 

 must live continuously near the sea.' I do not agree 

 that this is really necessary in order to appreciate the 

 sea. I think one does feel all Mr. Milner describes, even 

 if one goes only for a short time, so long as one lives 

 close to the shore, no going out of the house being 

 necessary in order to see the sea, still less a long walk, 

 which means remaining only a few minutes by the 

 waves. Mr. Milner continues : ' We are so contiguous 

 to the sea here that, looking through the window as I 

 write, I can see nothing but the wide stretch of waters, 

 just as I should if I were sitting in the cabin of a vessel; 

 and if I stand at the door I can fling a stone into the 

 fringe of the tide. Crossing the road, one step brings 

 me to the shore ; and here you may sit all the day long, 

 with the sea breeze blowing round you and the sound of 



