One cannot but be impressed with the same thing at sea which meets us
everywhere on the land, the low pitch of natural tones, in the wind,
the thunder, the waves in mid ocean. If the thunder made the same
indiscreet noises as some of our locomotives, thunder storms would be
more appalling than they ever are now. May we not see the benevolence
of God in this? As one sits for a long time soothed by the wind blowing
through the grass, so in listening to the waves around the ship he is
not agitated but composed. Even in a tempest the key note of the wind
through the cordage has a low pitch; “strong without rage,” much of the
time. So with the roar of the sea. Men’s voices in a multitude met for
conversation partake of the same quality. I remember that some years
ago several gentlemen were in the Exchange in an English metropolis
on some ordinary business day, and on going upstairs they noticed the
uniform pitch which the voices below naturally assumed. One or two of
these gentlemen were musical men, who, on being appealed to, gave it as
their opinion that the pitch was on F, and there being no excitement
the hum or droning sound continued uniform on that low note. One may
catch that note much of the time at sea; yet there is no painful
monotone in nature. There are, it may be, so many kinds of voices in
the world, and none of them is without signification; yet a wonderful
harmony prevails, without any artificial arrangement to keep the ruling
pitch at F.