Chapter 21 A PERILOUS SAIL.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting,

The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star

Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar.

Wordsworth.

By this the storm grew loud apace,

The water wraith was shrieking,

And in the scowl of heaven each face

Grew dark as they were speaking.

Campbell.

There was a bright