But still you bide by the waters tonight, wizard; for here is a picture of the sea. It is the sea, and it is talking, as it always does. There are some who think the sea speaks only of sorrow, but this is not wholly true. If you will listen thoughtfully enough, you will find that it is not all of troubles that the sea is whispering. Nor does it speak always of restlessness and change. Some find a stimulus beside the sea, and say it brings forgetfulness. Rather let us call it exaltation. Much more than of a petty excitement, fit to blot a man's momentary woes, it speaks in a sterner and a stronger note. It throbs with the pulse of a further shore. It speaks of a quiet tide making out to the Fortunate Islands, and tells of a way of following gales, and of a new Atlantis, somewhere on beyond. How dear this dream of a different land, this story of Atlantis, pathetically sought! Certainly, Atlantis is there, out beyond, somewhere in the sea; and truly there are those who have discovered it, and those who still may do so. I know it, Singing Mouse, for I can read it written in the hollow of this tiny shell of pink you have found here by the shore--borne across to us, we may not doubt, by an understanding tide from a place happily attained by those who wrote the message and sought to let us know. "Long time upon the mast our brown sail flapped; Our keel plowed bitter salt, and everywhere The ominous sky in sullen mystery wrapped, What side we looked on, either here or there, The welcome sight of land long sadly sought; And that Atlantis, hid within the sea, The land with all our hope and promise fraught, We saw not yet, nor wist where it might be. "But as we sailed as manful as we might, And counted not the sail more fit than oar, Lo! o'er the wave there burst a vision bright Of wood, and winding stream, and easy shore. Then by the lofty light which shone above, We knew at last our voyage sad was o'er, And we hard by the haven for which we strove, And soon all past the need to wander more. "Then as our craft made safely on the strand, And we all well our weary brown sail furled, We gazed as strangers might at that fair land, And hardly knew if it might be our world; Till One took gently every weary hand, And led us on to where still waters be, And whispered softly, 'Lo! it hath been planned That thou at last this pleasant place shouldst see.' "And as those dreaming so awakened we, And looked with eyes unhurt on that fair sky, And whispered, hand in hand and eye to eye, ''Tis our Atlantis, risen from the sea-- 'Tis our Atlantis, from the bitten sea! 'Tis our Atlantis, come again, oh, friend, to thee and me!'" [Illustration: Lake Belle-Marie] [Illustration] LAKE BELLE-MARIE Lake Belle-Marie lies far away. Beyond the forest the mountains are white. Beyond the mountains the sky rises blue, high up into the infinite Unknown.