the sea. Its novelty, its vastness,
its life, dwarf everything else in the little minds beside it. There is
the endless watching for the ships, the first peep at the little dot on
the horizon, the controversies as it rises about its masts or its flag,
the questions as to where it is coming from and where it is going to.
There is the endless speculation on the tide, the doubt every morning
whether it is coming in or going out, the wonder of its perpetual
advance or retreat, the whispered tales of children hemmed in between it
and the cliffs, the sense of a mysterious life, the sense of a
mysterious danger. Above all there is the sense of a mysterious power.
The children wake as the wind howls in the night, or the rain dashes
against the window panes, to tell each other how the waves are leaping
high over the pier and ships tearing to pieces on reefs far away. So
charming and yet so terrible, the most playful of playfellows, the most
awful of possible destroyers, the child's first consciousness of the
greatness and mystery of the world around him is embodied in the sea.

It is amusing to see the precision with which the children's congress
breaks up into its various sections. The most popular and important is
that of the engineers. The little members come toddling down from the
cliffs with a load of implements, shouldering rake and spade, and
dangling tiny buckets from their arms. One little group makes straight
for its sand-hole of yesterday, and is soon busy with huge heaps and
mounds which are to take the form of a castle. A crowing little urchin
beside is already waving the Union Jack which is ready to crown the
edifice, if the Fates ever suffer it to be crowned. Engineers of less
military taste are busy near the water's edge with an elaborate system
of reservoirs and canals, and greeting with shouts of triumph the
admission of the water to miniature little harbours. A corps of
absolutely unscientific labourers are simply engaged in digging the
deepest hole they can, and the blue nets over their sunshades are alone
visible above the edge of the excavation. It is delightful to watch the
industry, the energy, the absolute seriousness and conviction of the
engineers. Sentries warn you off from the limits of the fortress; you
are politely asked to "please take care," as your clumsy foot strays
along the delicate brink of the canal. Suggestions that have a
mechanical turn about them, hints on the best way of reaching the w