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do all his wishing for him； and she； unsatisfied still； though she had been made first an immensely rich woman； and then a great queen； at last sent her husband to ask that they two might be made rulers over the sun； moon； and stars。
As my sister went on with the story； I could see the waves grow black； and could hear the wind mutter and growl； while the fisherman called for the first； second； and then reluctantly； for the third time：
〃O Man of the Sea； Come listen to me！ For Alice my wife； The plague of my life； Has sent me to beg a boon of thee！〃
As his call died away on the sullen wind； the mysterious 〃Man of the Sea〃 rose in his wrath out of the billows； and said；
〃Go back to your old mud hut； and stay there with your wife Alice； and never come to trouble me again。〃
I sympathized with the 〃Man of the Sea〃 in his righteous indignation at the conduct of the greedy； grasping woman； and the moral of the story remained with me； as the story itself did。 I think I understood dimly； even then； that mean avarice and self… seeking ambition always find their true level in muddy earth； never among the stars。
So it proved that my dear mother…sister was preparing me for life when she did not know it； when she thought she was only amusing me。
This sister； though only just entering her teens； was toughening herself by all sorts of unnecessary hardships for whatever might await her womanhood。 She used frequently to sleep in the garret on a hard wooden sea…chest instead of in a bed。 And she would get up before daylight and run over into the burying…ground； barefooted and white…robed （we lived for two or three years in another house than our own； where the oldest graveyard in town was only separated from us by our garden fence）； 〃to see if there were any ghosts there；〃 she told us。 Returning noiselessly； herself a smiling phantom； with long； golden…brown hair rippling over her shoulders；she would drop a trophy upon her little sisters' pillow； in the shape of a big； yellow apple that had dropped from 〃the Colonel's〃 〃pumpkin sweeting〃 tree into the graveyard； close to our fence。
She was fond of giving me surprises； of watching my wonder at seeing anything beautiful or strange for the first time。 Once； when I was very little； she made me supremely happy by rousing me before four o'clock in the morning； dressing me hurriedly； and taking me out with her for a walk across the graveyard and through the dewy fields。 The birds were singing； and the sun was just rising； and we were walking toward the east； hand in hand； when suddenly there appeared before us what looked to me like an immense blue wall； stretching right and left as far as I could see。
〃Oh； what is it the wall of？〃 I cried。
It was a revelation she had meant for me。 〃So you did not know it was the sea； little girl！〃 she said。
It was a wonderful illusion to My unaccustomed eyes； and I took in at that moment for the first time something of the real grandeur of the ocean。 Not a sail was in sight； and the blue expanse was scarcely disturbed by a ripple； for it was the high… tide calm。 That morning's freshness； that vision of the sea； I know I can never lose。
》From our garret windowand the garret was my usual retreat when I wanted to get away by myself with my books or my dreamswe had the distant horizon…line of the bay； across a quarter of a mile of trees and mowing fields。 We could see the white breakers dashing against the long narrow island just outside of the harbor； which I； with my childish misconstruction of names； called 〃Breakers' Island〃； supposing that the grown people had made a mistake when they spoke of it as 〃Baker's。〃 But that far… off； shining band of silver and blue seemed so different from the whole great sea； stretching out as if into eternity from the feet of the baby on the shore！
The marvel was not lessened when I began to study geography； and comprehended that the world is round。 Could it really be that we had that endless 〃Atlantic Ocean〃 to look at from our window； to dance along the edge of； to wade into or bathe in； if we chose？ The map of the world became more interesting to me than any of the story…books。 In my fanciful explorations I out…traveled Captain Cook； the only voyager around the world with whose name my childhood was familiar。
The field…paths were safe； and I was allowed to wander off alone through them。 I greatly enjoyed the freedom of a solitary explorer among the seashells and wild flowers。
There were wonders everywhere。 One day I picked up a star…fish on the beach （we called it a 〃five…finger〃）； and hung him on a tree to dry； not thinking of him as a living creature。 When I went some time after to take him down he had elasped with two or three of his fingers the bough where I laid him； so that he could not be removed without breaking his hardened shell。 My conscience smote me when I saw what an unhappy looking skeleton I had made of him。
I overtook the horse…shoe crab on the sands； but I did not like to turn him over and make him 〃say his prayers；〃 as some of the children did。 I thought it must be wicked。 And then he looked so uncomfortable； imploringly wriggling his claws while he lay upon his back！ I believe I did； however； make a small collection of the shells of stranded horseshoe crabs deserted by their tenants。
There were also pretty canary…colored cockle…shells and tiny purple mussels washed up by the tide。 I gathered them into my apron； and carried them home； and only learned that they too held living inhabitants by seeing a dead snail protruding from every shell after they had been left to themselves for a day or two。 This made me careful to pick up only the empty ones； and there were plenty of them。 One we called a 〃butterboat〃； it had something shaped like a seat across the end of it on the inside。 And the curious sea…urchin； that looked as if he was made only for ornament； when he had once got rid of his spines； and the transparent jelly…fish； that seemed to have no more right to be alive than a ladleful of mucilage；and the razor…shells； and the barnacles； and the knotted kelp； and the flabby green sea…aprons； there was no end to the interesting things I found when I was trusted to go down to the edge of the tide alone。
The tide itself was the greatest marvel； slipping away so noiselessly； and creeping back so softly over the flats； whispering as it reached the sands； and laughing aloud 〃I am coming！〃 as； dashing against the rocks； it drove me back to where the sea…lovage and purple beach…peas had dared to root themselves。 I listened； and felt through all my little being that great； surging word of power； but had no guess of its meaning。 I can think of it now as the eternal voice of Law； ever returning to the green； blossoming； beautiful verge of Gospel truth； to confirm its later revelation； and to say that Law and Gospel belong together。 〃The sea is His； and He made it： and His hands formed the dry land。〃
And the dry land； the very dust of the earth； every day revealed to me some new miracle of a flower。 Coming home from school one warm noon； I chanced to look down； and saw for the first time the dry roadside all starred with lavender…tinted flowers； scarcely larger than a pin…head； fairy…flowers； indeed； prettier than anything that grew in gardens。 It was the red sand…wort； but why a purple flower should be called red； I do not know。 I remember holding these little amethystine blossoms like jewels in the palm of my hand； and wondering whether people who walked along that road knew what beautiful things they were treading upon。 I never found the flower open except at noonday； when the sun was hottest。 The rest of the time it was nothing but an insignificant； dusty…leaved weed；a weed that was transformed into a flower only for an hour or two every day。 It seemed like magic。
The busy people at home could tell me very little about the wild flowers； and when I found a new one I thought I was its discoverer。 I can see myself now leaning in ecstasy over a small； rough…leaved purple aster in a lonely spot on the hill； and thinking that nobody else in all the world had ever beheld such a flower before； because I never had。 I did not know then； that the flower…generations are older than the human race。
The commonest blossoms were； after all； the dearest； because they were so familiar。 Very few of us lived upon carpeted floors； but soft green grass stretched away from our door…steps； all golden with dandelions in spring。 Those dandelion fields were like another heaven dropped down upon the earth； where our feet wandered at will among the stars。 What need had we of luxurious upholstery； when we could step out into such splendor； from the humblest door？
The dandelions could tell us secrets； too。 We blew the fuzz off their gray beads； and made them answer our question； 〃Does my mother want me to come home？〃 Or we sat down together in the velvety grass； and wove chains for our necks and wrists of the dandelion…sterns； and 〃made believe〃 we were brides； or queens； or empresses。
Then there was the white rock…saxifrage； that filled the crevices of the ledges with soft； tufty bloom like lingering snow…drifts； our May…flower； that brought us the first message of spring。 There was an elusive swe