Probably they were not， but they were very like them. And when， after some consultation， the Dawn Treader turned back into the current and began to glide eastward through the Lily Lake or the Silver Sea （they tried both these names but it was the Silver Sea that stuck and is now on Caspian‘s map） the strangest part of their travels began. Very soon the open sea which they were leaving was only a thin rim of blue on the western horizon. Whiteness， shot with faintest colour of gold， spread round them on every side， except just astern where their passage had thrust the lilies apart and left an open lane of water that shoneke dark green glass. To look at， this last sea was very ke the Arctic； and if their eyes had not by now grown as rong as eagles’， the sun on all that whiteness.especially t early morning when the sun was hugest.would have een unbearable. And every evening the same whiteness ade the daylight last longer. There seemed no end to the lies. Day after day from all those miles and leagues of owers there rose a smell which Lucy found it very hard to escribe； sweet.yes， but not at all sleepy or overpowering， fresh， wild， lonely smell that seemed to get into your brain nd make you feel that you could go up mountains at a run r wrestle with an elephant. She and Caspian said to one nother， “I feel that I can‘t stand much more of this， yet I on’t want it to stop.”
