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 illusion so completely that you can almost fancy the air off the water feels damp to your forehead, and tastes salt upon your lips.

An ancient mariner who frequents the beach below the boat-house feels, I am convinced, thoroughly persuaded that his occupation is strictly professional, that he is himself a necessity, not of amusement, but business. He will tell you that when the wind veers round like that, "suddenways, off Kensington Gardens, you may look out for squalls;" that "last Toosday was an awful wild night, and some on 'em broke from their moorings afore he could turn out. The 'Bellerophon,' bless ye, was as nigh lost as could be, and that there 'Water Lily,' the sweetest thing as ever swam—she sprang her boom, damaged her bowsprit, and broke her nose. He was refitting all Wens'day, he was, up to two o'clock, and a precious job he had!"