pain and wearinesss of mind, I came down again to the sea. The circumstances
were changed--it was not a hurried glance--there were opportunities for
longer thought. It mattered scarcely anything to me now whether I was alone,
or whether houses and other people were near. Nothing could disturb my
inner vision. By the sea, aware of the sun overhead, and the
blue heaven, I feel that there is nothing between me and space.
This is the verge of a gulf, and a tangent from my feet goes
straight unchecked into the unnknown. It is the edge of the abyss as much as
if the earth were cut away in a sheer fall of
eight thousand miles to the sky beneath, thence a hollow to the
stars. Looking straight out is looking straight down; the eye-
glance gradually departs from the sea-level, and, rising as that
falls, enters the hollow of heaven. It is gazing along the face
of a vast precipice into the hollow space which is nameless.

There mystery has been placed, but realising the vast hollow
yonder makes me feel that the mystery is here. I, who am here
on the verge, standing on the margin of the sky, am in the mystery itself.
If I let my eye look back upon me from the extreme opposite of heaven, then
this spot where I stand is in the centre of the hollow. Alone with the sea
and sky, I presently feel all the depth and wonder of the unknown come back
surging up around, and touching me as the foam runs to my feet. I am in it
now, not to-morrow, this moment; I cannot escape from it. Though I may
deceive myself with labour, yet still I am in it; in sleep too. There is no
escape from this immensity.

Feeling this by the sea, under the sun, my life enlarges and
quickens, striving to take to itself the largeness of the heaven. The frame
cannot expand, but the soul is able to stand
before it. No giant's body could be in proportion to the earth,