nded with little,
if any, danger. In thirty years only two persons have been lost. These
strangled before assistance reached them. One body was found after
four years, lying in the salty sand at the south end of the lake,
whither the high winds from the north had drifted it. All the parts
protected by the sand were perfectly preserved and as beautiful as if
carved from Parian marble.

The tops of a number of sunken mountains still protrude above the
surface and form islands: such are Fremont, Church, Stanbury,
Carrington, and others. Some of these are habitable, possessing fine
springs and irrigable land. Very few people live on these islands, but
some brave spirits dare to face the semiprivations of such isolation
and stay there with their herds.

Doubtless, many tales of heroism and devotion could be told of those
who have lived on these islands. One of the best known is that of Mrs.
Wenner, who, a few years after her marriage, went with her husband and
little children to live on Fremont Island. Her husband's health
failing, the oversight of the herds fell largely upon her, but she
cheerily took up the burden, the while she trained her little ones,
and was ever a true companion to him whom she daily saw slipping
away.

The end came on a dread and fearsome day, while the faithful man who
worked for them was detained on the mainland by a raging storm. The
children and an incompetent woman could give her little assistance or
consolation. There on the lonely, storm-lashed island, with
faint-whispered words of love, the dear one closed his eyes forever.
Tenderly she cared for his body, and sadly she kept her vigil,
replenishing through the long night the two watchfires intended as a
signal to those on the mainland. On the night of the second day, the
man made his dangerous way back to the island--and with his help she
laid the loved husband in his island grave, with no service but the
tears and prayers of those who mourned.

This is but one story of desolation and sorrow--but the deep, briny
waters and the barren, forbidding shores hold in their keeping many
suggestions of mystery and of tears.

ARGONAUT SAM'S TALE

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul.
--_Shakespeare_.

ARGONAUT SAM'S TALE

"I panned him out over and over ag'in,
But found nary sign of color,"
Said Argonaut Sam one evening, wh