Page:Hours Spent in Prison.djvu/57



sun warms; a mild wind blows; the sea lightly moves. Our boat with sails hoisted up cuts slowly through the waves. Around an endless space. In the distance is an old dam, in ruins; soon we approach it. The strong waves strike against the strong barricades, and merrily, freely, for some fathoms, roll through the breach.

“The sea does not like obstacles,” said my companion, an old sunburnt mariner.

“How long has this dam been broken?” I asked, being astonished at the immense force of the waves, which, apparently had carried down these gigantic rocks.

“I think it happened some time ago,” answered the mariner musingly, and then