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Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864

"Passages from the American Notebooks, Volume 1"

It
was not like the moonshine, brightening as the evening twilight deepens;
for now it threw its radiance over the landscape, the green and other
tints of which were displayed by the daylight, whereas at-evening all
those tints are obscured. It looked like a milder sunshine,--a dreamy
sunshine,--the sunshine of a world not quite so real and material as
this. All night we had heard the Marblehead clocks telling the hour.
Anon, up came the sun, without any bustle, but quietly, his antecedent
splendors having gilded the sea for some time before. It had been cold
towards morning, but now grew warm, and gradually burning hot in the sun.
A breeze sprang up, but our first use of it was to get aground on Coney
Island about five o'clock, where we lay till nine or thereabout, and then
floated slowly up to the wharf. The roar of distant surf, the rolling of
porpoises, the passing of shoals of fish, a steamboat smoking along at a
distance, were the scene on my watch. I fished during the night, and,
feeling something on the line, I drew up with great eagerness and vigor.


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