think that it is no more gross to delight in flavours than it is to
delight in colours or harmonies, and one of my main reasons for dwelling
on the delights of the sea lies in the fact that the voyager learns to
take an exquisite, but quite rational, delight in the mere act of
eating. I know that I ought to speak as though dinner were an ignoble
institution; I know that the young lady who said, "Thanks--I rarely
eat," represented a class who pretend to devote themselves to higher
joys; but I decline to talk cant on any terms, and I say that the
healthy, hearty hunger bestowed by the open sea is one of God's good
gifts.

The sweet morning passes away, and somehow our thoughts run in bright
grooves. That is the strange thing about the sea--its moods have an
instant effect on the mind; and, as it changes with wild and swift
caprice, the seafarer finds that his views of life alter with
tantalizing but pleasant suddenness. Just now I am speaking only of
content and exhilaration; but I may soon see another side of the
picture. The afternoon glides by like the morning; no churlish houses
and chimney-pots hide the sun, and we see him describe his magnificent
curve, while, with mysterious potency, he influences the wind. Dull!
Why, on shore we should gaze out on the same streets or fields or trees;
but here our residence is driven along like a flying cloud, and we gain
a fresh view with every mile! I confess that I like sailing in populous
waters, for indeed the lonely tropical seas and the brassy skies are not
by any means to be regarded as delightful; but for the present we are
supposing ourselves to be in the track of vessels, and there is some new
and poignant interest for every hour. Watch this vast pallid cloud that
looms up far away; the sun strikes on the cloud, and straightway the
snowy mass gleams like silver; on it comes, and soon we see a superb
four-masted clipper broadside on to us. A royal fabric she is; every