inaccessible from this direction. A
narrow pathway winding in and out edged with water-reeds leads by it on
the other side. This lake is said to be so deep that it is unfathomable;
it is dark brown in colour, bitter and brackish to the taste. No fish
can live in it. Learned men, called geologists, who study the crust of
the earth, have decided that this region is not volcanic in origin as it
would appear at first sight, but that the lake is fed by water from the
morass.

This mountain is constantly visited by sudden violent atmospheric
disturbances, great winds and heavy thunderstorms, that spring up at a
moment's notice, striking terror into the hearts of any travellers who
may be caught in them.

Now several centuries ago, before the time of railways and steamboats, a
mighty king of the water-sprites lived in this lake with his three
beautiful daughters, the famed nixies of the lake.

The King was a majestic old man with long white beard and hair; his eyes
were black and sinister, and when he drew his eyebrows together in a
straight line over his eyes, his frown was terrible to behold. The
thunderstorms which devastated the country round, were attributed to
him. In his fits of rage, the village folk declared, he would hurl
stones and thunderbolts down from the mountain, heedless of what or whom
he might destroy.

The day would be fine, the sky blue, and in a moment a storm wind would
arise, clouds would cover the heavens, and lightning shoot forth; how
could this be accounted for by natural agency?

The nixies were much to be pitied, if the truth were known, for their
father was a stern old tyrant, and interfered constantly with their
harmless amusements, also prohibiting their leaving the lake to frolic
at midnight with the wood-spirits, whom he considered as beneath them in
rank.

On a warm day in the lovely month of June (which is the favourite month
of all the year for the water-nixies, for then the white and yellow
water lilies are in flower, and the yellow irises shine among the
water-reeds) the three sisters were swimming lazily to and fro, plunging
under the water like seals, to reappear like seals on the look-out for
something to happen. But nothing ever did happen but one of their
father's tempers, and of these they were tired enough as you may
imagine. They had not fishes' tails like their cousins the mermaids, but
slender limbs of dazzling whiteness. Their hair resembled beautiful
seaweed as they