The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1894-03-24

utter solitude or an unrrequented ocean,
days, however not of depression and des-
pair, hut Of tranquil Joy and gratitude,
soothing alike TO mind and body after the
shocks and perils of the tempest A little
while before could have dreaded nothing
more than this desolation; it would have
seemed hopeless and maddening. But de
liver man from the grave, and the desert
will be to him as a fruitful and umbra-
geous garden. Now indeed, except for the
loneliness. my situation was one that might
have provoked the envy of men who hunt
happiness or struggle for bread in dusty,
noisome cities.
After the thunderstorm the air was cool
er, and when there chanced to be a breeze
it's pervasve and delicious balm was like a
foretaste OF heaven. Morning and even
ing, too, the orient spread its flaming pic
lures along the sky for my sole delight.
and the giistening, iridescent sen, lately so
terrible in its fury, caressed the ships side
with a liquid murmur Of endearment
Slowly and softly the orig heaved on the
long foamless swell without SO much as \
suggestion ot the reeling agonies she had
just passed through.
On deck had my inprovised awning Of
sails and tangled rigging under which
dozed and dreamed when was not cook
ing or eating or watching the flying fish,
Company would have been grateful, but
had my life, and that was more than CON-
pany. Moreover, lacked nothing, for the
ships stores were practically untouched, so
sudden had been the crews departure.
With plenty Of meat and drink in "A world
where SO many people have to go On short
commons, one should not, complain, and
rs for society, il 1t was wanting, there was
none 20 thwart my humors.
A chief part Of my pleasure was in the
books left by Mr. Watson. Rob RoyD
was there, and truly it would have seemed
a ridiculous thing could any one have seen
a miserable ocean waif holding his sides at
the humors OF Bailie Nicol Jarvie. / fear
the gallant Rob himself was not a pattern
OF morality, but his daring highland spirit
was captivating. and II he lifted cattle
when he should have been saying his pray
ers he did we'll when his back was 20 the
wall. Others also Of Sir Walters books
read, among them being iIyanhoe," which
is surely the best romance ever written.
Robinson Crusoe," too fell 10 me then,
and, dare say, the resource and ingenuity
of that immortal castaway somewhat in
fuenced my own mode Of life.
. Besides these had some numbers of old
reviews, which were good reading for the
wigging they gave unlucky authors, some
OF whom have since, however, unaccounta-
bly, achieved fame / had also publica-
tion called "The Posthumous Papers of the
Pickwick Club" which, / understand, is
more familiar TO the present generation
than its Bible. There was likewise an al
manac which thought might be valuable
for It's weather forecasts, but whether it
had been written for some other quarter Of
the globe or was merely humorous effort
its predictions never had the least bearing
on the weather in the Indian ocean.
Then. when books palled. forth would
come Duncan's silver mounted pipes from
the.green bag-which was guarded as IL Il
were gold-and would blow myself into a
species OF intoxication. Now IL was an old
air my mother or my nurse had crooned TO
me In the dim faroff dawn of memory;
then, being a little sentimental, q wall Of
lament, may be Rob Roy's pathetic 'Hs ell
mi tulidh" "a return no nore), again a
pibroch, opening with the wierd, dirseliks
measure of coronach, but every moment
auickening in time till the excitement and
ecstacy Of ID carried me clean out OF myself
and away from all thought Of forsaken seas
and derelct ships. BY natural transition
this would lead TO . auiekstsD. . rsaL