GARMAN AND WORSE.
CHAPTER I.
Nothing is so boundless as the sea, nothing so patient. On its broad back it bears, like a good-natured elephant, the tiny mannikins which tread the earth; and in its vast cool depths it has place for all mortal woes. It is not true that the sea is faithless, for it has never promised anything; without claim, without obligation, free, pure, and genuine beats the mighty heart, the last sound one in an ailing world. And while the mannikins strain their eyes over it, the sea sings its old song. Many understand it scarce at all, but never two understand it in the same manner, for the sea has a distinct word for each one that sets himself face to face with it.
It smiles with green shining ripples to the bare-legged urchin who catches crabs; it breaks in blue billows against the ship, and sends the fresh salt spray far in over the deck. / Heavy leaden seas come rolling in on the beach, and while the weary eye
