As Dick walked along on the dim brown-gray sand on the bottom of the sea, he began to notice, as his eyes grew more and more accustomed to the faint greenish light, the many marvels which were all around him. Never, in after years, could he quite recall all the strange and beautiful things that he saw during that submarine stroll, but what he did remember made him long many times to visit the sea-floor once again, and look at the wonderful sights which were to be seen there. Besides the masses of many-coloured sea-weed, and the odd, bright-hued sea-flowers that grew there, there were whole forests of coral, snow-white, pale yellow, and deep scarlet. There were narrow rock-paths where gold glittered in the crevices, and great lumps of brown and yellow agate gleamed dimly through the water. There were heaps of pearls,—as though some mysterious sea-miser had been collecting and hoarding them; and garnets that made the water all around look as though it were dyed crimson. The sea-moss of purple and red and dull green hung waveringly from the rocks, and lay in patches on the sand-floor, like strange, gaudy rugs. The sea-trees moved slowly with the faint motion of the deep-sea currents, and in the distance looked like dark-green shadows, stirring across a sheet of glass. Everywhere were shells—large and small, pink, white, black, and gray, lying at his feet, lodged in niches in the high, black rocks, floating, caught in tangles of dull sea-weed. And everywhere, too, were fishes, some of them quite ordinary-looking creatures, but others different from any that Dick had ever seen even in picture-books. Suddenly the rock-walled path which he had been following came to an end, and he found himself in a huge, green-washed clearing, with distant walls and a clean-swept, sandy floor. This place was filled with all sorts of strange sea-creatures,—principally fish, although there were several queer things that did not look as though they belonged in the natural history books. In the very centre of the big crowded circle sat an old woman, in a dark green cloak and hood, which floated away from her skinny face and figure whenever she waved her arm—which she did very often. For she seemed to be the mistress of ceremonies down here, and all the other creatures listened with respect to what she said. When she saw Dick, she beckoned to him, and he went up to her feeling even more frightened than when he had faced Mother Goose or the Sea Kobold. “I am the Old Witch of the Sea,” she said. “And my husband is the Old Man of the Sea. Have you ever read ‘Sinbad the Sailor’?” Dick shook his head. “In that case,” said the Witch, thoughtfully, “I am not sure whether or not you would better stay to tea.” “Oh, is this a party?” asked Dick eagerly, looking around him with new interest.