The beach lay shining before me; the sea came dash ing and rolling in with its grand, everlasting music; and I—like Demosthenes shouting his orations to the waves—paced up and down the beach, and, amid the roar of the waters, told all my fancies to Trap. "Wasn't it a face to haunt you in blissful dreams—eh, Trap? Did you ever see such an expression, Trap?—not one of those senseless wax-doll faces, but a calm, pensive look, with a winning gentleness and soft melancholy that reaches your heart at once—does n't it, Trap? It is the sort of melancholy air which leads you to suspect 'that she has never told her love, but let concealment ' you know the rest, Trap. But, when I picked up the book, did you see the sweet smile that played around her mouth, and lighted up her face with a sunbeam of beauty—did you see that, Trap? And then her eyes! did you ever see such eyes, Trap? such deeply, darkly, beautifully, blue eyes, Trap? Swimming in their own liquid fascinations, Trap!"
My enthusiasm was carrying me rather out of my depth; but Trap wagged his tail, as though he perfectly understood and appreciated my remarks. I therefore continued my poetical metaphor.
"Did you ever see eyes of such a liquid blue? a blue, blue sea, from which the Queen of Love comes forth to dower you with all her charms, Trap? What sea-nymph ever had such cerulean eyes, Trap? What Nereid, what dweller in the coral caves beneath this wide-resounding sea"
My soliloquy is disturbed by a gentleman, who suddenly, and to my vast surprise, emerges from the very midst of the waves, and announces himself to be—not Neptune, or even a Nereid—but a shrimper! In the
