Slowly and heavily he went on, without much heed of anything, swinging his clouded cane now and then, as some slashing reviews occurred to him, yet becoming more peaceful and impartial of mind under the long monotonous cadence and quiet repetitions of the soothing sea.
For now he was beyond the Haven head--the bulwark that makes the bay a pond in all common westerly weather--and waves that were worthy of the name flowed towards him, with a gentle breeze stepping over them.
The brisk air was like a fresh beverage to him, and the fall of the waves sweet music.

He took off his hat, and stopped, and listened, and his eyes grew brighter.

Although the waves had nothing very distinct to say in dying, yet no two (if you hearkened well), or at any rate no two in succession, died with exactly the same expression, or vanished with precisely the same farewell.

Continual shifts went on among them, and momentary changes; each in proper sequence marching, and allowed its proper time, yet at any angle traversed, even in its crowning curl, not only by the wind its father, but by the penitent return and white contrition of its shattered elder brother.

And if this were not enough to make a samely man take interest in perpetually flowing changes, the sun and clouds, at every look and breath, varied variety.
Frank Darling thought how small his griefs were, and how vain his vanity.