Eliza Lee Cabot Follen,
Two Festivals
“ Grace, who was just going up stairs, stopped and listened. "I only hear the sea which strikes and rages against the rocks," said she. "Let it beat as it will, it will not wake me," said John. "I am too weary." Good nights were exchanged, and they all betook themselves to bed; and, in a quarter of an hour after, every one slept, rocked by the storm which roared around the tower, beat against the lighthouse, shook its thick glass, and sought in vain to reach the flame. The tempest increased from hour to hour. It rose in mountainous waves, and broke against the rocks with a tremendous noise. ”
