"What do you smell, boy?"
"I smell the sea," said Lewis.
"How do you know? How old were you when you made your first voyage?"
"Don't you know?"
Leighton shook his head.
Lewis, looking at his father with wondering eyes, regretted the spoken question.
"I was three years old. I suppose I remember the smell of the sea, though it seems as if I couldn't possibly. I remember the funnel of the steamer, though."
"Seems like looking back on a quite separate life, doesn't it?"
"Yes," said Lewis, nodding, "it does."
"Of course it does, and in that fact you've got the germ of an individual philosophy. Every man who goes through the stress of life has need of an individual philosophy."