A circular boat of silver and sailed with pink clouds came to meet them. Around the circular edge sat fifty red-robed oarsmen, wearing high white caps all glinting with gems; they moved the boat across the sea by means of paddles of circular sheets of hammered silver, fastened upon the ends of long staves of blue pearl. The craft was in two sections. The central part was a half-sphere of amber separate from the rest and merely floated by its encircling. On this was a silver canopy where they reposed to watch the scene. They paused before a length of smooth rising shore, and there were assembled the shimmering multitudes, hailing in earthly voices the advent of the earth-king, Regan. Each one was in robes of jeweled cloth, for it was a gala day. Twelve were to be chosen to go outside the gates, and each one desired to be one of the twelve. They had been happy there for ages, in their constantly expanding kingdom, but they were human and they wanted change. And another thing, they wanted the glory of building a world, for they were of the Atlantean race. They moved like flashes of light. A group of seers was admitted upon the craft to bring to Father Renaudin books of great importance, sealed bottles of amber, curious flasks of medicines and boxes of precious perfumes. These were laid most reverently at his feet, and, amid his thanks, the seers, with obeisance, moved away. “I would there were more of these compounds and mixtures,” said the man of the old world. “They are powerful and most necessary. I have not been able to remember a millionth part of the alchemy of old, there were so many things to do, there was so much which I did not prepare. If I had only had more time, it would have been better!” “And were you,” asked Rondah, “you, who lived for cycles, hurried in your lifetime?” “Oh, yes! I could not do half. I left all my noblest dreams unrealized; my highest hopes proved fruitless!” “Impossible!” sighed Father Renaudin. “Shall we accomplish our mission? Shall we bring a finished life’s work to a world’s end?” asked Rondah. “Never! never! Eternity is too short to finish the endless labor of a universe! I doubt if God Himself has ever ended his work! From time beginningless to time eternal the march of labor goes on, from little sphere to larger, from lesser soul to greater, from duller intellect to one more brilliant! It is the changeless law for men and for angels alike! Onward, ceaselessly move onward, is the united aim of all dissevered instruments!