The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1877-06-21

saw the Sea-StletchInG away from the
white line Of shore, throbbing and sound
ing as it brimmed to the horizons edge.
This was the sea; the glorilied sea; the
sea no longer grimy and smoky and gray
with getting its living, but the sea trans
lated, purified, made holy as if after death.
The days went and came, shining and
beautiful, and every day | walked on the
shore With Louis, ran races with the
breezes and picked up shells, OF gathered
sea-Weed, or watched the sunset gliding
the sails Of some ar-tiittng ship Louis
face was sweet in those days. and kind as
sunlight, and his voice was music to me,
for he said that we We're old friends now,
and had known each other so many years
that we ought to love each other ALWAYS.
one afternoon we strayed further than
usual, and the twilight deepening as we
walked, | think we both forgot every
thing, save that we We're young and
happy, and life was glorious. Love- The
word dropped warm from his lips, and
seemed to color all my future with rose
tints. All my past seemed sinking out of
sight. The gates of paradise were open,
and | was free to walk therein, If | would.
Not ior me the barrenness, the diSap
pointment. that blighted other lives. |
might make mine what would, with
wealth and love for my servants, and
luxury and joy at my command, All,
well ! remember that afternoon by the
sea- he long line of white beach, the
over hanging cliffs, the twilight touching
the water with golden glow, and glitter
ing on the tall masts, and Il ship lying at
anchor beyond. Oh, life was so beauti
tul Oh, love was 50 sweet. \ lightness
OF heart, caprcious, intangible, elf-lille
mood fell upon me, born perhaps of the
ping my hands as skipped along, and
challenging Louis to race Perhaps he
had urged me too pefsistently to respond
to his affection, to say when | would be
his Wife. Wife. | wanted TO be no mans
wife just then, but only to love and live,
Would answer him :" sighed Louis.
When YOU catch me-" | responded,
mociingly, Hitting about the sand. Away
| went with Louis following breathless.
We rounded the curve Of the shore, and
| was Just about sinking down upon the
sand to wait for him, when an old boat,
with broken oar, caught my eye; it lay
swinging in the shadow just where a
great rock overfung the beach. Lightly,
houghtlessly, | stepped into the tiny
craft and waving my handkerchief
laughingly TO Louis, caught up the oar,
and sci myself aloat. scarcely thought
what | was doing; it was a mere caprice
born of lightness OF heart and youthful
thoughtessnesS. But a single glance at
Louis countrnance reused me to the folly
| was committing.
''Come back come back !" he cried; ;
''the current will carry You out of reach
in a moment
Still laughing, | cndeavored to obey.
DeXterously | worked the broken oar,
diligently | steadied the trail little YES
sell but all my efforts only seemed to
bear me further and further from the
anxious face that was Watching me.
Perhaps if Louis had then plunged into
the water, il few strong strokes OF his
arm might have reached and saved me.
| do not know, Louis was no swimmer;
and besides, that was not his way OF do
ING things. His was a deliberate and
thoughttl rather than Il rash and Ven
turesome nature. He called to me eager
~ that he was going for help: should
wait. | should drop the oar; in Il few
minutes he would get Il boat saw the
solitary shore, the deserted fisher huts,
the far stretches Of sand he would have
to travel before reaching the little vii
lage saw it all but dimly now.
Wealily | dropped the oar and sank
back into the boat. Surely | need do
nothing more. lie would not let me die
alone within reach of bis loving arms .
Night was creeping on with twilight on
its garments hem. could see that lone
and shadowy ship lying at anchor beyond
the bar. If only | could reach that ship !.
But the current would drift me past her
in an instant. Wildly and longingly now
] call for help, stretching my arms out
yearningly toward that silent vessel, but
nothing answered me. The shore had
grown far and dim, and dimly, strangely
the stars coming out with their unfamiliar
beauty made me afraid. Sad, solitary
and deserted, was | going to my death
out Of all that bright afternoon. that
Overlooking love, that filllness Of life and
pleasure prottercd me +!
Afraid Well. yes | was afraid for
one brief moment, as covered back in
to the boat, shrinking in the solitude OF
the awful waste of waters, a fear OF that
unknown world into which seemed sail
ing oppressed me. But bethought my
self that if must die it was better to die
brayely. But was he dead ? jim, my
only staunch friend, whose glad, good
face had frightened my Wretched child
hood. oh, where was he r?
1t is said that in the hour Of death the
memory Of past events is preternaturally
vivid. And as my mind reverted to those
old days, forgetting my later life, forget
ting my later friends, and forgetting
Louis, felt sure that was going to die.
A trance OF peace came upon me, in which
seemed to oclasp Jim's warm hand again,
as in the days of old.
Jim. JIM" called aloud. rousing
myself as from Il dream, yet dreaming
still. But nothing answered me. The
darkness was growing deeper, and the
current more rapid, and Louis with his
soft taper fingers would never reach me
now.
Unconscious, half delirious, must have
been, perhaps, for it seemed to me that
jim, on whose name called, was a spirit,
and that his presence, somewhere near
my Nat' 'tI'iioI''ih) INV III tiiio li'ttl vi
need, as | driited further and further
away from all earthly hope. How long |
know not it seemed to me had been on
my way all eternity, and had or had |
not heard through that death dream an
answering cry Did or did ! not see
mistily as through Il veil the spars and
shrouds Of that silent vessel that had
atar off been watching my struggles with
death ? And, great God was it Jims
face dear old Jim's face bending over
me, and was this Heaven!
MY dear said Mrs. Belden, coming
into my room one morning, ''you are get
ting quite strong again; the sea air has
done you a world of good-in fact, YOU
look better, | think, than before your ac-
cdent. | am thinking we may as well
return to the city as soon as you like"
WAS lying on Il couch near, the Win
dow, looking out upon the sea-
"WeIl," said | absently, in j half rev
erie.
= You feel quite strong. do YOU not