THE CLIFFS.
As the party slowly rode away from the beach, Rollo’s mother asked if it was too late to go to the cliffs. There was a splendid prospect from the cliffs. They were rocky precipices overhanging the sea, at the extremity of a point of land, about a mile from the beach where they had been. The two girls wanted to go very much; but Rollo did not care so much about it. He was in haste to get home and arrange his curiosities.
His father, however, after looking at his watch, said that he thought there would be time to go. So he turned his horse’s head in the right direction, and they went to the cliffs.
The precipices were very high, and the swell of the sea dashed and roared against them at their foot; and yet the water looked very smooth at a little distance from the land. Rollo wondered why there should be waves along the beach and against the rocks, when there were none out in the open sea.
“I should think, father,” said he, “that it would be calmer near the shore, and more windy out upon the water.”
“It is,” said his father.
“Then, why are not the waves bigger?”
“They are full as big.”
“Why, father,” said Rollo, “there are no waves at all out from the land.”