er in my
mind. Our noisy years did indeed seem moments[21] in the being of the
eternal silence: and the wind, in the face of that great field of
stationary blue, was as the wind of a butterfly's wing. The placidity
of the sea was a thing likewise to be remembered. Shelley speaks of
the sea as "hungering for calm,"[22] and in this place one learned to
understand the phrase. Looking down into these green waters from the
broken edge of the rock, or swimming leisurely in the sunshine, it
seemed to me that they were enjoying their own tranquillity; and when
now and again it was disturbed by a wind ripple on the surface, or the
quick black passage of a fish far below, they settled back again (one
could fancy) with relief.

On shore, too, in the little nook of shelter, everything was so
subdued and still that the least particular struck in me a pleasurable
surprise. The desultory crackling of the whin-pods[23] in the
afternoon sun usurped the ear. The hot, sweet breath of the bank, that
had been saturated all day long with sunshine, and now exhaled it into
my face, was like the breath of a fellow-creature. I remember that I
was haunted by two lines of French verse; in some dumb way they seemed
to fit my surroundings and give expression to the contentment that was
in me, and I kept repeating to myself--

"Mon coeur est un luth suspendu,[24]
Sitot qu'on le touche, il resonne."

I can give no reason why these lines came to me at this time; and for
that very cause I repeat them here. For all I know, they may serve to
complete the impression in the mind of the reader, as they were
certainly a part of it for me.

And this happened to me in the place of all others where I liked least
to stay. When I think of it I grow ashamed of my own ingratitude. "Out
of the strong came forth sweetness."[25] There, in the bleak and gusty
North, I received, perhaps, my strongest impression of peace. I saw
the sea to be great and calm; and the earth, in that little corner,
was all alive and friendly to me. So, wherever a man is, he will find
something to please and pacify him: in the town he will meet pleasant
faces of men and women, and see beautiful flowers at a window, or hear
a cage-bird singing at the corner of the gloomiest street; and for the
country, there is no country without some amenity--let him only look
for it in the right spirit, and he will surely find.

NOTES

This article first appeared in the _Portfolio_, for November