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Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael), 1825-1894

"The Coral Island A Tale of the Pacific Ocean"

Nay, further, I think that to the gay, the frivolous,
the reckless, when sated with pleasures that cannot last, even sorrow
proves to be rest of a kind, although, perchance, it were better that I
should call it relief than rest. There is, indeed, but one class of men
to whom rest is denied--there is no rest to the wicked. At this I do
but hint, however, as I treat not of that rest which is spiritual, but
more particularly of that which applies to the mind and to the body.
Of this rest we stood much in need on our return home, and we found it
exceedingly sweet when we indulged in it after completing the journey
just related. It had not, indeed, been a very long journey,
nevertheless we had pursued it so diligently that our frames were not a
little prostrated. Our minds were also very much exhausted in
consequence of the many surprises, frequent alarms, and much profound
thought to which they had been subjected; so that when we lay down on
the night of our return under the shelter of the bower, we fell
immediately into very deep repose. I can state this with much
certainty, for Jack afterwards admitted the fact, and Peterkin,
although he stoutly denied it, I heard snoring loudly at least two
minutes after lying down. In this condition we remained all night and
the whole of the following day without awaking once, or so much as
moving our positions. When we did awake it was near sunset, and we were
all in such a state of lassitude that we merely rose to swallow a
mouthful of food.


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