Day is on us. Dreams are dumb,
Thought has light for neighbour;
Room! The rival giants come--
Lo, the Sun and Labour!
After witnessing that lordly spectacle, who can wonder at Zoroaster? As
the lights from east and west meet and mingle, and the sky rears its
blue immensity, it is hard to look on for very gladness.
I shall suppose that we are on a small vessel--for, if we sail in a
liner, or even in an ordinary big steamer, it is somewhat like moving
about on a floating factory. The busy life of a sailor begins, for Jack
rarely has an idle minute while he is on deck. Landsmen can call in help
when their house needs repairing, but sailors must be able to keep every
part of _their_ house in perfect order; and there is always something to
be done. But we are lazy; we toil not, neither do we tar ropes, and our
main business is to get up a thoroughly good appetite while we watch the
deft sailor-men going about their business. It is my belief that a
landsman might spend a month without a tedious hour, if he would only
take the trouble to watch everything that the men do and find out why it
is done. Ages on ages of storm and stress are answerable for the most
trifling device that the sailor employs.
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