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AT THE BOTTOM OF THE DEEP BLUE SEA
T
HE sea in all her
moods has a strange fascination for the children of the dry land. The
rumble and thunder of her never ending procession of rolling breakers,
rising and falling, tumbling over the sands, to race hissing back to
shelter under the curling crest of an eternal successor; the mad
recurring dash which cannot be discouraged, of great waters upon
unyielding rocks whose grim faces smile at the spume fountains falling
back upon them; the wash and mutter of rocky shoals; the suck and
bellow of her caverns and the monotone she chants, heedless of hearers
to the ages; all these charm the hearts of men and bring them into the
fellowship of spirits they feel, but cannot understand. For the moods
of the sea and the ways of the wind are akin to the heart of a man. His
eyes dance with the flicker of light in the path of the sun over watery
wastes; his breast heayes in unison with the multi-
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