Читать книгу An Australian Ramble; Or, A Summer in Australia онлайн

27 страница из 28

Our captain tells me he can take a holiday now for the next few days. Out on the broad expanse of the Indian Ocean we are away from sunken rocks and coral reefs. According to Mr. Froude, when he made his way to Australia, he seems to have got through a good deal of Greek and Latin. In this delicious climate study of any kind seems quite out of place; but the sea air makes one hungry and indolent. We live well, and we have a library, which yields me a novel a day—of course I skip the descriptive parts and the sentimental—and as we rush over the blue sea, a cooling breeze meets us, and it is enough to live. I feel as if I were Ulysses and Christopher Columbus and Captain Cook rolled into one. We see no land, no ships, no birds in the heavens above, no fish in the water beneath. Night comes with its clear stars and its dark waves, and our pace is still the same. It is very wonderful, and none the less so that it is a wonder of everyday occurrence. Over the ship, in all parts, we have a perfect blaze of light—nine miles of electric wire! and outside all is darkness and mystery—a darkness and a mystery man has learned to master. Science has done that much for him. Will science unveil the darkness and mystery of being in a similar manner? I fear not. Happily there is a Judge