these wild ocean-bathings invigorate me! These would not however suit you; they are too powerful.
August 10th.—How beautiful it is to be here; how pleasant to pause from going out to see things, from the excitement of hearing, and learning, and from social life and conversation! How good it is to be alone, to be silent and quiet! And the sea! the sea! that grand, glorious sea, how soothing and refreshing it is to contemplate it, to listen to it, to bathe in it! I sit every morning, after my breakfast of coffee, Carolina rice, and an egg, by the sea-side, under a leafy alcove, with a book in my hand, and gaze out over the sea, and into the vast expanse of sky; see the porpoises in flocks following the line of the coast, and hear the great waves breaking and roaring at my feet. The porpoises amuse me particularly; they go for the most part in couples, and pop their heads up out of the sea as if to say “good morning,” making a curve of their bodies, so that the upper part is visible above the surface of the water; after this curved movement, made slowly and with a certain method in it, they plunge their heads down again and vanish in the waves, but are soon seen up again doing the same as before. They are large fishes, I should imagine about two ells long, and seem in form not to be unlike our largest salmon, and they have a something very grave in their movements, as they thus offer us their salutations from the deep; sometimes however they give great leaps.
Do you know why I sit with a book in my hand while I am looking out on all this? It is that people may think I am reading, and thus be prevented from interrupting me; excepting for this, I should have no peace. And I am become nervous to that degree by the incessant talk of strangers, and the repetition of ever-recurring questions, that my heart begins to beat if any one only sits down on the same bench with me, lest they should begin to talk to me; therefore, whenever this occurs
