"
"A grand idea," said Percivale.
"Therefore likely to be a true one," I returned. "People find it hard
to believe grand things; but why? If there be a God, is it not likely
everything is grand, save where the reflection of his great thoughts is
shaken, broken, distorted by the watery mirrors of our unbelieving and
troubled souls? Things ought to be grand, simple, and noble. The ages of
eternity will go on showing that such they are and ever have been. God will
yet be victorious over our wretched unbeliefs."
I was sitting facing the sea, but with my eyes fixed on the sand, boring
holes in it with my stick, for I could talk better when I did not look my
familiar faces in the face. I did not feel thus in the pulpit; there I
sought the faces of my flock, to assist me in speaking to their needs. As
I drew to the close of my last monologue, a colder and stronger blast from
the sea blew in my face. I lifted my head, and saw that the tide had crept
up a long way, and was coming in fast. A luminous fog had sunk down over
the western horizon, and almost hidden the sun, had obscured the half of
the sea, and destroyed all our hopes of a sunset.
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