solitude, since the great sea has been my companion, and the little
sea-birds my friends, and the wind has told me his secrets, and airy
shapes have flitted around me in my hermitage. Such companionship
works an effect upon a man's character, as if he had been admitted to
the society of creatures that are not mortal. And when, at noontide,
I tread the crowded streets, the influence of this day will still be
felt; so that I shall walk among men kindly and as a brother, with
affection and sympathy, but yet shall not melt into the
indistinguishable mass of humankind. I shall think my own thoughts,
and feel my own emotions, and possess my individuality unviolated.

But it is good, at the eve of such a day, to feel and know that there
are men and women in the world. That feeling and that knowledge are
mine, at this moment; for, on the shore, far below me, the fishing-
party have landed from their skiff, and are cooking their scaly prey
by a fire of drift-wood, kindled in the angle of two rude rocks. The
three visionary girls are likewise there. In the deepening twilight,
while the surf is dashed near their hearth, the ruddy gleam of the
fire throws a strange air of comfort over the wild cove, bestrewn as
it is with pebbles and sea-weed, and exposed to the "melancholy main."
Moreover, as the smoke climbs up the precipice, it brings with it a
savory smell from a pan of fried fish, and a black kettle of chowder,
and reminds me that my dinner was nothing but bread and water, and a
tuft of samphire, and an apple. Methinks the party night find room
for another guest, at that flat rock which serves them for a table;
and if spoons be scarce, I could pick up a clamshell on the beach.
They see me now; and--the blessing of a hungry man upon him!--one of
them sends up a hospitable shout,--halloo, Sir Solitary! come down and
sup with us! The ladies wave their handkerchiefs. Can I decline?
No; and be it owned, after all my solitary joys, that this is the