"
And he started the tiny wheels, and clapped his hands frantically at its
ready compliance to his will.
Forth poured the sparkling, crusty grain in one buzzing maze of
whiteness. Thick gathered the milky drifts from bow to stern. Still
shouted the captain his savage joy till--a-sudden he paused, gazed as if
spell-bound on the mill's mad work, with a cry of terror sprang forward
and grasped the check. But, in vain. There was no surcease to its labor.
Higher and higher up lifted the mighty salt banks, and, in a twinkling,
both destroyed and destroyer sank helpless into the depths of the sea.
And, down amid the green sea-weeds, the wonder-mill still stands,
pouring forth salt the whole day long--no hand to check its raging; for
the mermen and mermaids are all dead, and the _geists_ have ceased to
reign.
And this is why the sea-water is salt.
[Illustration]
THE MAN WITH THE STRAW HAT.
It is nothing strange that a man should wear a straw hat; but--well,
listen to my story.
One winter I was travelling near Lake Ontario, and, as the day was dark,
I could not see every one in the car very plainly. There was a little
old man near whose face I could but just see--for he had on a small
black hat, and his coat collar was turned up. Soon after I noticed him
the train stopped at the station where I was to get off. The old man and
five or six other persons also left the train. We all stepped into a
sleigh, and were driven several miles over the snow to a hotel.
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