of
breath through your front teeth, punctuating the final lodgment of each
sleeve and fold with a spasmodic "Oh!" Then, having placed your watch where
no villainous straggler may be induced to examine it to see whether he can
get to the depot in time for the next train, you issue forth ingloriously,
your head down in consciousness that you are cutting a sorry figure before
the world. Barefoot as a mendicant, your hair disheveled in the wind, the
stripes of your clothes strongly suggestive of Sing Sing, your appearance
a caricature of humankind, you wander up and down the beach a creature that
the land is evidently trying to shake off and the sea is unwilling to take.
But you are consoled by the fact that all the rest are as mean and
forlorn-looking as yourself; and so you wade in, over foot-top, unto the
knee, and waist deep. The water is icy-cold, so that your teeth chatter and
your frame quakes, until you make a bold dive; and in a moment you and the
sea are good friends, and you are not certain whether you have surrendered
to the ocean or the ocean has surrendered to you.

At this point begin the raptures of bathing. You have left the world on the
beach, and are caught up in the arms of experiences that you never feel on
land. If you are far enough out, the breaking wave curves over you like a
roof inlaid and prismatic, bending down on the other side of you in layers
of chalk and drifts of snow, and the lightning flash of the foam ends in
the thunder of the falling wave. You fling aside from your arms, as
worthless, amethyst and emerald and chrysoprase. Your ears are filled with
the halo of sporting elements, and your eyes with all tints and tinges and
double-dyes and liquid emblazonment. You leap and shout and clap your
hands, and tell the billows to come on, and in excess of glee greet persons
that you never saw before and never will again, and never want to, and act
so wildly that others would think you demented but that they also are as
fully let loose; so that if there be one imbecile there is a whole asylum
of lunatics.

It is astonishing how many sounds mingle in the water: the faint squall of
the affrighted child, the shrill shriek of the lady just introduced to the
uproarious hilarities, the souse of the diver, the snort of the
half-strangled, the clear giggle of maidens, the hoarse bellow of swamped
obesity, the whine of the convalescent invalid, the yell of unmixed
delight, the te-hee and squeak of the cit