just a very little at first, with tiny, white flecks flying, and then all of a sudden they would break over, like a great waterfall, beginning in front of you and curling away off down the shore, as white as snow. And where the water ran up on the beach it was exactly like the galloping white horses that some one painted; and I could just see their flying manes, and bending knees, and reaching hoofs! And where there was no beach, only a sea-wall, the waves would come rolling up, big and round, and then, all of a sudden, there would be a deep, heavy boom, and the whole wave would dash up into the air and the top of it would break into feathers and plumes of white spray which the wind blew into our faces; and then the whole mass of it would drop back onto the stonework with another boom, and a swishing and splashing. It surely was fine! And sometimes a wave would strike the sea-wall sidewise and go spinning away down the shore, taking a great white curl of water for ever and ever so far, and ending with a wild throwing up of its arms and a tremendous leap, and then come tumbling and crashing down onto the stonework. Of course, I didn't see all of this in detail on that first ride, we were
