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Various

"Stories by English Authors: the Sea"

I made shift to stagger onward
till I had gone about fifty feet from the wash of the sea. Nature
then broke down; my knees gave way, I stumbled and fell--whether
in a swoon or whether in a death-like slumber, I cannot say; all
I can tell is that when I awoke, or recovered my senses, the sun
stood fifteen degrees above the horizon, and I opened my eyes upon
a hot and dazzling sky.
I sat up in the utmost amazement. My mind for some time was all
abroad, and I could recollect nothing. Memory then entered me with
a bound, and I staggered to my feet with a cry. The first thing
I took notice of was that my clothes were nearly dry, which was
not very reconcilable with the steam that was still issuing from
the island, though it was as I say. My bones ached cruelly, but
I was not sensible of any particular languor. The brilliance was
so blinding that I had to employ my eyes very warily in order
to see; and it was not until I had kept opening and shutting them
and shading them with my hands for some minutes that they acquired
their old power. The island on which I stood had unquestionably been
hove up in the night by the earthquake.


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