"The mermen and mermaids are dead. The _geists_ have ceased to reign."

Far out on the blue bosom of the sea the jolly captain rode, shouting
uproariously over the treasure he had secured.

"Precious wonder-mill," he sang, "I will try thee in all thy ways. First
salt for savor, then ducks for food, and gold to the end of my days."
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]