There's a sair spang o' the auld sin o' the warld in you sea; it's an unchristian business at the best o't; an' whiles when it gets up, an' the wind skreights--the wind an' her are a kind of sib, I'm thinkin'-- an' thae Merry Men, the daft callants, blawin' and lauchin', and puir souls in the deid thraws warstlin' the leelang nicht wi' their bit ships--weel, it comes ower me like a glamour.
I'm a deil, I ken't.

But I think naething o' the puir sailor lads; I'm wi' the sea, I'm just like ane o' her ain Merry Men.' I thought I should touch him in a joint of his harness.

I turned me towards the sea; the surf was running gaily, wave after wave, with their manes blowing behind them, riding one after another up the beach, towering, curving, falling one upon another on the trampled sand.
Without, the salt air, the scared gulls, the widespread army of the sea- chargers, neighing to each other, as they gathered together to the assault of Aros; and close before us, that line on the flat sands that, with all their number and their fury, they might never pass.
'Thus far shalt thou go,' said I, 'and no farther.' And then I quoted as solemnly as I was able a verse that I had often before fitted to the chorus of the breakers:-- But yet the Lord that is on high, Is more of might by far, Than noise of many waters is, As great sea billows are.
'Ay,' said my kinsinan, 'at the hinder end, the Lord will triumph; I dinnae misdoobt that.

But here on earth, even silly men-folk daur Him to His face.

It is nae wise; I am nae sayin' that it's wise; but it's the pride of the eye, and it's the lust o' life, an' it's the wale o' pleesures.' I said no more, for we had now begun to cross a neck of land that lay between us and Sandag; and I withheld my last appeal to the man's better reason till we should stand upon the spot associated with his crime.