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Updated: May 25, 2025
When we consider that these strange bodies fill many, many times the area of our whole solar system to the outermost bounds of Neptune's orbit, it is difficult to imagine what force it is that acts on them to revive or quench their light.
It was indeed that bygone abode of Proteus, the old shepherd of King Neptune's flocks: an island located between Rhodes and Crete, which Greeks now call Karpathos, Italians Scarpanto. Through the lounge window I could see only its granite bedrock.
Or myriad hosts of microscopic creatures the Red Sea owes to the tribe its name the multitudinous sea dully incarnadine; or the boat rides buoyantly on the shoulders of Neptune's white horses, while funnel-shaped water spouts sway this way and that.
"Neptune's Islands are low, three in number, and having numerous rocks and reefs amongst them; ought not to be approached too closely, there being generally a strong swell from the south-west, the sea breaks over them with great violence. "Liguanea Island is of moderate elevation, and may be passed on the south side at a distance of two miles.
"But the dear, honest, old fellow's paws are wet, and will ruin your pretty new pelisse." "It may be new, but you know it is not pretty," said Miss Clarendon, continuing to pat Neptune's head as he jumped up with his paws on her shoulders. "O my dear Esther, how can you hear him? he is so rough in his love!" "I like rough better than smooth."
"You lads must have dined gloriously last night. You don't look half yourselves, yet." He stared at me, and at Agathemer, who had waked, into much the same sort of daze in which I had been at first. "Neptune's trident!" the shipmaster exclaimed. "You two aren't the two lads I was to convoy! Who are you and how did you get here?"
"My lad, that's King Neptune's trumpeter, come to give notice that the old boy's coming aboard us directly. I've heard him scores of times; so I'm not likely to be wrong." The answer I gave my shipmate was not very polite. One never likes to be quizzed; and I, of course, thought he was quizzing me. "You'll see, lad," he answered, giving me no gentle tap on the head, in return for my remark.
I had a friend engaged to a young lady, niece of an old sea-captain of the old school, the Benbow school, the wooden leg and pigtail school; a perfectly salt old gentleman with a pickled tongue, and a dash of brine in every deed he committed. He looked rolled over to you by the last wave on the shore, sparkling: he was Neptune's own for humour.
Daddy Neptune's crown was torn off, his sceptre broken in two, his wife was despoiled of her finery; the doctor's hat and spectacles shared the same fate; he was made to swallow his own pills, and the barber had his brush nearly shoved down his throat. They would have come to serious blows had not the captain ordered them to knock off and return to their duty.
She lunged her head into the sea, and then, her stern settling gradually down, her huge bows rose up, showing the bright copper, and her stern, and bresthooks dripping, like old Neptune's locks, with the brine. Her decks were filled with passengers who had come up at the cry of "sail ho," and who by their dress and features appeared to be Swiss and French emigrants.
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