That from the ill-fated
MERCHANT came hither years before my time, and was, in any case,
pathetically unromantic.
Peradventure there are many who deem this solitary existence dull? Why,
it is brimful of interest and sensation. There are the tragedies of the
bush to observe and elucidate; all cannot be foreseen and prevented, or
even avenged. A bold falcon the other day swooped down upon a wood-swallow
that was imitating the falcon's flight just above my head, and bore it
bleeding to a tree-top, while I stood shocked at the audacity of the
cannibal. A bullet dropped the murderous bird with its dead victim fast
in the talons. There are comedies, too, and you have the wit to see them,
and in these Beachcombing expeditions expectation, fairly effervesces.
One lucky individual--a mere amateur--casually picked up a black-lip
mother-of-pearl shell on an island some little distance away. It
contained a blue pearl, the price of which gave him such a start in life,
that he is now an owner of ships. May not other tides cast up on other
shores other oysters whose lives have been rendered miserable by the
presence of pearls?
Byron says--"Even an oyster may be crossed in love.
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