Evening journal., 1922-07-11

ON THE PACIFICE OCEAN,
June 11.-There IS the solitude Of
the mountains and Of the plains. of
the desert and OF the forests. There
IS the solitude OF one alone in the
world; Of one crowded into a great
city with thousands OF faces un-
familiar and thousands of silent
voices on every side and not an eye
10 greet. one with a smile. There is
a difference between solitude and
loneliness. Solitude IS suggestive
of quiet and mental and physical
rest, but loneliness is like a canker
TO scar the mind and breed unrest.
perhaps the greatest Of solitudes Is
found far at sea. away from all save
the few in whom one has little or no
personal interest and who in turn,
have little or no personal interest
IN you. Yet the solitude Of the
ocean, for one who has tired OF the
rush and hustle OF the cities and
towns, weary OF the dashing automo-
biles and the confusing elements OF
life OF today. IS refreshing.
Perhaps there is nowhere on the
waters OF the globe within what may
be called nearness to land a more
clearly defined sense OF solitude than
a small ocean steamer on the wide
Pacific. This has been suggested
and emphasized by one who took
passage on a boat OF FIVE thousand
tons. leaving san Francisco on
June 3 bound for the faraway part
of the earth known as the South
Seas. Tahiti. with Papeete as the
first stop after a study run OF two
weeks, with Raratonga, on one OF
the Cook Islands. less than two days
further SOUTH; Wellington, New Zea-
land, one week further away and
then Sydney, Australia, more than
four days ahead. With but few pas
sengers on board. It being In between
seasons. and with a perfect combina-
tion by day OF clear blue sky and
clear water, rolling and tossing un-
ceasingly and apparently untiring
after aeons OF centuries, quletness
reigns supreme.
Even the steady and rhythmic pull
sations of the engine or forgotten in |
the sense of being so fer away from !
familiar scenes and faces and voices. |
The rarity Of a day IN June, the sun |
kindly in its heat and the moon
peering through the blue far over /
head awaiting Its time 10 reveal its
beauty. The cool breeze that sweeps |
across the decks; a dozen or more Of /
passengers at one end, resting calm /
ly and just waiting for the passage |
OF DAYS, and at the other end Of the |
boat two score OF more OF men. wo-
men and children in the same atti-
tude Of waiting. For ten days not
speck Of land in sight and not a sail
or the smoke Of another vessel
but the vast expanse
of endless stretches OF water there Is
a feeling Of perfect isolation. It is
solitude supreme Yet one who can
commune with himself feels that the
wondrous solitude is the ideal OF rest.
Selfish, perhaps IL may seem TO
many. 20 leave all behind and just
go on and on toward an unknown
end. yet not forgetful OF those
forever tolling and planning and
struggling. There comes a time
IN every mans life when II IS the sol
itude OF isolations that gives zest and
furnishes no end Of time for refec-
tion. And man Is. after all. such
puny creation. The waves that
seem 10 smile in the sunlight and
rlisten in the moonlight in caress-
ing way, teach a lesson II one cares
10 seek for knowledge.
Nevertheless. the solitude Of a
SPACE on the great ocean-the ship
a mere dots frightened with end
less pictures Of clouds. new and
changing colors Of the water. At
times green and at times blue, and
as night comes on tinged with the
glow from the sun that IS revealed
as an artist OF the highest type, the
rosy tints. the emerald shades play