114 
NATURE FOR ITS OWN SAKE 
Water 
forms, 
monotony is, in fact, an unending diversity. 
Time was doubtless in the infancy of the earth 
when the beds of the oceans were filled with 
pestilent gases and vapors, and time may be 
in the earth’s old age when the seas will be 
great frozen depths of ice; but to-day they are 
in their prime, in the heyday of their glory, 
strong in mass and movement, overwhelming 
in extent and power, splendid in color and light. 
Water at rest, like the air, would seem at first 
blush to be quite formless. It is the flat, even- 
filling ofa hollow. Its positive forms are shown 
only when it is agitated by wind, or pushed in 
tides and currents, or seeking its level in lower 
places. There are currents in the sea, but 
they are hardly recognizable in the open water 
except by their color. Their forms are not 
definitely marked—not even that of the Gulf 
Stream—though they have certain movements, 
widths, and lengths, that are well known to the 
navigator. These currents flowing through the 
main body of the ocean have always called up 
an anuogy or a likeness to human physiology. 
For they seem like sea arteries in their move- 
ments ; and the tides rising and falling liken 
human lungs respirmg. We are, through such 
resemblances, often led in a romantic way to 
