I may as well tell the truth while I write of it. I know that if the dead can rise from their graves I shall re-visit the Chain Pier at Brighton. I spent one hour there--that was the hour of my life--one madly happy, bewildering hour! I remember the plank of wood on which my feet rested; I remember the railing, over which I heard the green, deep water, with the white-sailed boat in the distance--sails like the white wings of angels beckoning me away; the blue sky with the few fleecy white clouds--the wash of the waters against the woodwork of the pier; and I remember the face that looked down into mine--all Heaven lay in it for me; the deep water, the blue sky, the handsome face, the measured rhythms of the sea, the calm tones of the clear waves--are all mixed in one dream. I cry out in anguish at times that Heaven may send me such another, but it can never be! If the dead can return, I shall stand once more where I stood then. I will not tell my story now, but rather tell of the tragedy with which the Chain Pier at Brighton is associated for evermore in my mind. I had gone down to Brighton for my health, and I was staying at the most comfortable and luxurious of hotels, "The Norfolk." It was the end of September, and the only peculiarity of the month that I remember was this: the nights grew dark very soon--they were not cold; the darkness was rather that of soft thick gloom that spread over land and sea. No one need ever feel dull in Brighton. If I could have liked billiards, or cared for the theater, or enjoyed the brilliant shops on the crowded pier, with its fine music, I might have been happy enough; but I was miserable with this aching pain of regret and the chill desolation of a terrible loss. I tried the Aquarium. If fishes could soothe the heart of man, solace might be found there; but to my morbid fancy they looked at me with wide open eyes of wonder--they knew the secrets of the sea--the faint stir of life in the beautiful anemones had lost its interest. I could not smile at the King Crabs; the reading tables and the music had no interest for me; outwardly I was walking through the magnificent halls of the Aquarium--inwardly my heart was beating to the mournful rhythms of the sea. The clock had not struck seven when I came out, and there lying before me was the Chain Pier. I went there as naturally as the needle goes to the magnet. The moon shone with a fitful light--at times it was bright as day--flooded the sea with silver and showed the chain and the arches of the pier as plainly as the sun could have done--showed the running of the waves--they were busy that evening and came in fast--spreading out in great sheets of white foam, and when the moonlight did touch the foam it was beautiful to see.