CHAPTER VI. 



" Children playing merrily 'twixt the sea and land, 

 Building baby-castles on the tawny strand, 

 Leaving when the day is done traces on the sand. 



" White-haired sailor hearkening to an anthem grand, 

 Which thy life long thou hast heard, yet canst not understand 

 Long enough have lain thine idle traces on the sand. 



" Comes the everlasting ocenn roaring to the land: 

 Waves in wild commotion bearing down upon the strand ; 

 Sweeping off for ever all our traces on the sand." 



F. D. F. 



The sea has been troubled by the voice of the 

 storm ; we stand upon the cliffs and upon the rocky 

 shore, and see the wild waves leap or fret against the 

 dark rock's side. The quiet tide-pool we had dabbled 

 in the day before is lashed into foam by the rough, 

 yet joyous kisses of the up-coming tide — that refresh- 

 ing aerating foam which is life-giving to the dweller on 

 the rock. " The sea king is riding white horses over 

 the deep," we used to say as children, and we thought 

 not enough of the bit and the bridle which guideth 

 each wave, and saith unto the strongest of them, 

 " Hitherto shalt thou go, and no farther." 



Stand awhile by the seaside whilst the gale is whist- 

 ling, and the stoutest bark is tossing like a toy upon 

 the ocean : while the wail of the sea and the drift 

 of the shingle mingle with its thunder- voice, stand 

 and think. Thus for six thousand years and more 

 —for well we know that the almanac reckons not 



