height. A flock of little skiffs crowded
around the steamer for the passengers, and Miss Bertha, taking charge of
me, led me into one.

"But the Grotto, where is it?" I asked, staring at the huge cliffs,
straight at which our red-sashed boatman was rowing us as if to
destruction.

Skiff after skiff ahead of us was seen to be swallowed up in the cliffs
in the most amazing way, and not an opening in the rocky wall to be
seen. "You mustn't be afraid," said my sweet little guide, assuringly:
"it won't hurt;" and she gave me her hand, that--perhaps I shouldn't
tell--trembled a little, and directly its mate stole into my grasp.

"Lie low down," said our boatman, when the skiff was within a few feet
of apparently smashing against the cliff.

"And shut your eyes tight," said Miss Bertha, screwing up her eyes so
tight that she showed all of her pretty white teeth in the funniest way.
The skiff scratched and bumped on the rocks a few times, and then
floated clear.

The bright sky was gone, the gulls flying about the cliffs were gone,
the steamer was gone, and the cliffs themselves were gone: we had
slipped under them, through a tiny opening, and were in the Blue Grotto.
The blue roof rose high above us, and there was ample room within the
Grotto for many times the numerous blue skiffs filled with blue-haired
blue people, all dressed in blue clothes, and breathing blue air. That
is just the way we appeared. The water was lighter-colored than the air,
and when a boatman jumped overboard, his every action being distinctly
seen, he seemed to be flying in air, and not diving in water. It gave
one a weird crawly feeling to see him, and when he came to the surface
it seemed to be the most natural thing for him to tumble back to us
after capering around in the sky. Then he crawled out on a rock to allow
the water to drain off his clothes, and then it was that Miss Bertha's
promise of a silver man was made good. He stood there a moment,
appearing like a burnished silver statue, and the trickling drops as
they fell from him sparkled with silvery glitter.

An oar splashed in the water sent the drops flying into the blue air, to
glimmer there in silver brightness a moment, like a patch of the starry
Milky Way on a frosty night.

"Isn't it lovely!" said Bertha, clapping her hands joyfully; "and you
can get a whole handful of silver by just reaching for it, but you can't
keep it." She grasped the blue water as she spoke, and it escaped