A Thousand-Mile Walk 
sick, that I had long waited in the woods for 
just such a storm, and that, now that the pre- 
cious thing had come, | would remain on deck 
and enjoy it. “Well,” said he, “if you can stand 
this, you are the first landsman I ever saw that 
could.” 
I remained on deck, holding on by a rope 
to keep from being washed overboard, and 
watched the behavior of the Belle as she dared 
nobly on; but my attention was mostly directed 
among the glorious fields of foam-topped waves. 
The wind had a mysterious voice and carried 
nothing now of the songs of birds or of the rus- 
tling of palms and fragrant vines. Its burden 
was gathered from a stormy expanse of crested 
waves and briny tangles. I could see no striving 
in those magnificent wave-motions, no raging; 
all the storm was apparently inspired with na- 
ture’s beauty and harmony. Every wave was 
obedient and harmonious as the smoothest 
ripple of a forest lake, and after dark all the 
water was phosphorescent like silver fire, a 
glorious sight. 
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