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Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864

"Passages from the American Notebooks, Volume 1"

Here you fronted the ocean, looking at a sail,
distant in the sunny blue. Here you looked at some plant on the bank.
Here some vagary of mind seems to have bewildered you; for your tracks go
round and round, and interchange each other without visible reason. Here
you picked up pebbles and skipped them upon the water. Here you wrote
names and drew faces with a razor sea-shell in the sand.
After leaving the beach, clambered over crags, all shattered and tossed
about everyhow; in some parts curiously worn and hollowed out, almost
into caverns. The rock, shagged with sea-weed,--in some places, a thick
carpet of sea-weed laid over the pebbles, into which your foot would
sink. Deep tanks among these rocks, which the sea replenishes at high
tide, and then leaves the bottom all covered with various sorts of
sea-plants, as if it were some sea-monster's private garden. I saw a
crab in one of them; five-fingers too. From the edge of the rocks, you
may look off into deep, deep water, even at low tide. Among the rocks, I
found a great bird, whether a wild-goose, a loon, or an albatross, I
scarcely know.


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