It rolls there still. The sailors say that sometimes when the weather is fine and the sea is smooth as glass, they see spires and domes and stately columns far down under the water. They declare, too, that often strange, weird music like the sound of distant bells falls upon their ears, and then they look and listen and nod to each other, for they think of the palaces and chimes of Stavoren, once the fairest city of the Netherlands, submerged hundreds of years ago while the poor cried for help and the mighty danced.
The Alpine herdsmen say that in the marvelous long ago an enchanted boat was seen gliding up and down the blue waters of Lake Geneva. Neither oars nor sails were needed to speed it over the waves, for it was drawn by singing swans and carried a fairy crew. A radiant creature in a robe whiter than goat’s milk stood on the prow, her gleaming hair rippling down over the hem of her garment. She bore a golden basket of rare fruits and flowers, and although she scattered the contents with lavish hand upon the sprites at her feet, it was never empty. Sometimes the vessel touched the shore, and then the soil around that spot produced as never soil produced before or since, and if any peasant was so fortunate as to catch a glimpse of the boat, he and his children became rich beyond want and were blessed and happy to the end of their days.
For hundreds of years the magic ship sailed the lake, and as it touched the shore frequently and numbers of peasants saw it, there was wonderful prosperity in Old Helvetia.
But a great misfortune befell the country and the glad, abundant days became but a memory. A steamboat was brought to Geneva, and it plowed, a screaming, snorting monster, across the waters. The noise terrified the gentle swans, and with one wild cry they flew away. Never again did the peasants catch a glimpse of the white-robed fairy and the shining sprites. Never again did the music of the snowy pilots gladden their ears.
The Luck Boat disappeared, and with it went prosperity from the land of Geneva. But marvelous things like that are never forgotten. Those who had seen the fairy craft in their youth told the story to their sons and daughters, who passed it on to their children and their children’s children, and although the mountain folk of today have never beheld it, they know just how it looked. They have pictured it so often in their minds, that their artists have pictured it on paper, and so it has become the custom for the peasants around Lake Geneva to send “Luck cards” to their friends on New Year’s Day. These are gay, colored postals containing a likeness of the Luck Boat, and to those of whom a peasant is fondest he sends as many as he can afford, because to receive them is supposed to bring good fortune, just as a glimpse of the swan-drawn vessel was said to do in the marvelous long ago.