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Updated: May 4, 2025
"Yes, such a long voyage! worse than the 'Ancient Mariner's. No words can tell how I hate the sea." She sighed deeply, with a sudden darkening of her gray eyes till they were almost black, and grasped one wrist hard with the other hand. A sudden trembling seized me. I was almost as much agitated as Mrs. Rayne.
Verdi slunk around the corner of the house, and Oliver went back upstairs. "All dry," Jennifer said, brushing a hand over her skirt. "Here's a hat, if you want it. Could rain any time. We'd better drive. Hey, you look good in a Mariner's hat." "I like hockey," she said. "Not the fighting, the skating. They are such great skaters! My father used to take me to Bruins games. My car or yours?"
Like the mariner's compass, which continually points in the same direction amidst changing seasons and varying climes, the most extraordinary vicissitudes of the "present evil world," cannot "move" the mind of a believer from the "hope of the Gospel." Reflect further, on the effect which such a life is calculated to produce on others.
The English ship was now so near that I could see the yawning muzzles of her guns, while her high, curving sides seemed to tower over us. As I gazed, with my heart full of a pitiful fear for her, I saw a head appear above her quarter-railing, a very round head whereon was a mariner's red cap.
The wedding presents were even more numerous and costly than usual, and included thirty-five yards of book muslin, ten pairs of gloves, a sponge, two gimlets, five jars of cold cream, a copy of the Clergy List, three hat-guards, a mariner's compass, a box of drawing-pins, an egg-breaker, six blouses, and a cabman's whistle. They were marked quite simply, "From a Grateful Friend."
For in those days the voyages were long and joyless, fraught with the innumerable perils of outlawed flags and preying navies; so that, with all his love of the sea, the mariner's true goal was home port and a cozy corner in the familiar inn.
A woman is too delicate a social flower to be independent of environments. She takes the tone of her surroundings. It is, one notices, only the ladies who protest that the barmaid married in haste and repented of at leisure can raise herself to her husband's level. The husband's friends keep silence, and perhaps, like the mariner's bird, they meditate all the more.
And yet his mariner's sense sniffed something untoward. The Dobson, little topmast hooker, age-worn and long before relegated to the use of Sunday fishing-parties "down the bay," had for barometer only a broken affair that had been issued to advertise the virtues of a certain baking-powder. It was roiled permanently to the degree marked "Tornado."
"I wonder how Miss Van Buren will like this? She's sure to see it," Starr went on, reflectively. How she liked it mattered more to me than to anybody else, because if she disliked it, I was the person upon whom her vexation would be visited. But there was a still more important point which apparently hadn't come under the Mariner's consideration. How would Lady MacNairne's husband like it?
The compass is the mariner's guide across the trackless ocean, and it is essential to find out everything possible about that mysterious agent, magnetism, which directs the compass needle by its attractive force. The earth itself is a huge magnet with positive and negative poles.
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