CHAPTER V.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

--SHAKSPEARE.

I sprang to my feet with all the eagerness of joy, and was about to rush

into the arms of Pio, when he suddenly checked my enthusiasm by

extinguishing the light. I stood still and erect, like one petrified

into stone. That moment I felt a hand upon my arm, then around my waist,

and ere I could collect my thoughts, was distinctly lifted from the

ground. But I was carried only a few steps. On touching the floor with

my feet, I was planted firmly, and the arms of my companion were tightly

drawn around my own so as to prevent me from raising them. The next

instant, and the stone upon which we stood suddenly slid from its

position, and gradually sank perpendicularly,--we still retaining our

position upon it.

Our descent was not rapid, nor did I deem it very secure; for the

trap-door trembled under us, and more than once seemed to touch the

shaft into which we were descending. A few moments more and we landed

securely upon a solid pavement. My companion then disengaged his hold,

and stepping off a few paces, pronounced the words "_We are here_!" in

the royal tongue, and immediately a panel slid from the side of the

apartment, and a long passage-way, lighted at the further end by a

single candle, displayed itself to view. Into that passage we at once

entered, and without exchanging a single word, walked rapidly toward the

light.

The light stood upon a stone stand about four feet high, at the

intersection of these passages. We took the one to the left, and

advanced twenty or thirty yards, when Pio halted. On coming up to him,

he placed his mouth close to the wall, and exclaimed as before. "We are

here." A huge block of granite swung inward, and we entered a small but

well-lighted apartment, around which were hanging several costly and

magnificent suits of Palenquin costume.

Hastily seizing two of them, Pio commenced arraying himself in one, and

requested me by a gesture to don the other. With a little assistance, I

soon found myself decked from head to foot in a complete suit of regal

robes--_panache_, sash, and sandals inclusive.

When all was completed, Pio, for the first time, addressed me as

follows: "Young stranger, whoever you may be, or to whatever nation you

may belong, matters but little to me. The attendant guardian spirit of

our race and country has conducted you hither, in the most mysterious

manner, and now commands me to have you instructed in the most sacred

lore of the Aztecs. Your long residence in this palace has fully

convinced you of the danger to which we are both exposed; I in

revealing and you in acquiring the key to the interpretation of the

historical records of my country. I need not assure you that our lives

are both forfeited, should the slightest suspicion be aroused in the

breasts of the Princess or the nobility.

"You are now dressed in the appropriate costume of a student of our

literature, and must attend me nightly at the gathering of the Queen's

kindred to be instructed in the art. Express no surprise at anything you

see or hear; keep your face concealed as much as possible, fear nothing,

and follow me."

At a preconcerted signal given by Pio, a door flew open and we entered

the vestibule of a large and brilliantly illuminated chamber.

As soon as we passed the entrance I saw before me not less than two

hundred young persons of both sexes, habited in the peculiar garb of

students, like our own. We advanced slowly and noiselessly, until we

reached two vacant places, prepared evidently beforehand for us. Our

entrance was not noticed by the classes, nor by those whom I afterwards

recognized as teachers. All seemed intent upon the problem before them,

and evinced no curiosity to observe the new comers. My own curiosity at

this moment was intense, and had it not been for the prudent cautions

constantly given me by Pio, by touching my robes or my feet, an exposure

most probably would have occurred the first night of my initiation, and

the narrative of these adventures never been written.

My presence of mind, however, soon came to my assistance, and before the

evening was over, I had, by shrewdly noticing the conduct of others,

shaped my own into perfect conformity with theirs, and rendered

detection next to impossible.

It now becomes necessary to digress a moment from the thread of my

story, and give an accurate description of the persons I beheld around

me, the chamber in which we were gathered, and the peculiar mode of

instruction pursued by the sages.

The scholars were mostly young men and women, averaging in age about

twenty years. They all wore the emblem of royalty, which I at once

recognized in the _panache_ of Quezale plumes that graced their heads.

They stood in semi-circular rows, the platform rising as they receded

from the staging in front, like seats in an amphitheatre. Upon the stage

were seated five individuals--two of the male, and three of the female

sex. An old man was standing up, near the edge of the stage, holding in

his hands two very cunningly-constructed instruments. At the back of the

stage, a very large, smooth tablet of black marble was inserted in the

wall, and a royal personage stood near it, upon one side, with a common

piece of chalk in his right hand, and a cotton napkin in the left. This

reminded me but too truthfully of the fourth book of Euclid and Nassau

Hall; and I was again reminded of the great mathematician before the

assembly broke up, and of his reply to that King of Sicily, who inquired

if there were no easy way of acquiring mathematics. "None, your

Highness," replied the philosopher; "there is no royal road to

learning." Labor, I soon found, was the only price, even amongst the

Aztecs, at which knowledge could be bought. Each student was furnished

with the same species of instruments which the old man before-mentioned

held in his hands.

The one held in the left hand resembled a white porcelain slate, only

being much larger than those in common use. It was nearly twenty inches

square, and was divided by mathematical lines into thirty-six

compartments. It was covered over with a thin crystal, resembling glass,

which is found in great quantities in the neighboring mountains, and is

perfectly transparent. The crystal was raised about the one eighth of an

inch from the surface of the slate, and allowed a very fine species of

black sand to move at will between them. The instrument carried in the

right hand resembled the bow of a common violin, more than anything

else. The outer edge was constructed of a beautiful yellow wood,

polished, and bent into the arc of a quarter circle; whilst a mass of

small cords, made of the native hemp, united the two ends.

The method of using the bow was this: The slate was shaken violently

once or twice, so as to distribute the black sand equally over the white

surface, and then the bow was drawn perpendicularly down the edge of the

slate, very rapidly, so as to produce a quick whistling sound. The

effect produced upon the grains of sand was truly wonderful to the

uninitiated in the laws of acoustics. They arranged themselves into

peculiar figures, sometimes in the form of a semicircle, sometimes into

that of a spiral, sometimes into a perfect circle, or a cone, or a

rhomboid, or an oval, dependent entirely upon two things: first, the

place where the slate was held by the left hand; and second, the point

where the bow was drawn across the edge. As the slate was subdivided

into thirty-six compartments, by either one of which it could be held,

and as there was a corresponding point, across which the bow could be

drawn, there were seventy-two primitive sounds that might be produced by

means of this simple contrivance. Each of these sounds inherently and

necessarily produced a different figure upon the slate, and there were

consequently just seventy-two initial letters in the Aztec alphabet.

The mode of instruction was extremely simple. A word was pronounced by

the aged teacher at the front of the stage, written upon his slate,

exhibited to the scholar at the black tablet, and by him copied upon it.

The whole class then drew down their bows, so as to produce the proper

sound, and the word itself, or its initial letter, was immediately

formed upon the slate.

After the seventy-two primitive letters or sounds had been learned, the

next step was the art of combining them, so as not only to produce

single words, but very often whole sentences. Thus the first

hieroglyphic carved upon the tablet, on the back wall of the altar, in

Casa No. 3 (forming the frontispiece of the second volume of Stephens's

Travels in Central America), expresses, within itself, the name, date of

birth, place of nativity, and parentage, of _Xixencotl_, the first king

of the twenty-third dynasty of the Aztecs.

The hieroglyphics of the Aztecs are all of them both symbolical and

phonetic. Hence, in almost every one we observe, first, the primitive

sound or initial letter, and its various combinations; and, secondly,

some symbolic drawing, as a human face, for instance, or an eagle's

bill, or a fish, denoting some peculiar characteristic of the person or

thing delineated.

But to return to the Hall of Students. The men and women on the stage

were placed there as critics upon the pronunciation of each articulate

sound. They were selected from the wisest men and best elocutionists in

the kingdom, and never failed to detect the slightest error in the

pronunciation of the tutor.

The royal tongue of the Aztecs is the only one now in existence that is

based upon natural philosophy and the laws of sound. It appeals both to

the eye and ear of the speaker, and thus the nicest shades of thought

may be clearly expressed. There is no such thing as _stilted_ language

amongst them, and logomachy is unknown.

And here I may be permitted to observe that a wider field for research

and discovery lies open in the domain of _sound_ than in any other

region of science. The laws of harmony, even, are but imperfectly

understood, and the most accomplished musicians are mere tyros in the

great science of acoustics. There is every reason to believe that there

is an intimate but yet undiscovered link between _number_, _light_, and

_sound_ whose solution will astonish and enlighten the generations that

are to succeed our own. _When God spake the worlds into being, the

globular form they assumed was not accidental, nor arbitrary, but

depended essentially upon the tone of the great Architect, and the

medium in which it resounded._

Let the natural philosophers of the rising generation direct their

especial attention toward the fields I have indicated, and the rewards

awaiting their investigations will confer upon them immortality of fame.

There is a reason why the musical scale should not mount in whole tones

up to the octave; why the mind grasps decimals easier than vulgar

fractions, and why, by the laws of light, the blood-red tint should be

heavier than the violet. Let Nature, in these departments, be studied

with the same care that Cuvier explored the organization of insects,

that Liebig deduced the property of acids, and that Leverrier computed

the orbit of that unseen world which his genius has half created, and

all the wonderful and beautiful secrets now on the eve of bursting into

being from the dark domain of sound, color, and shape, will at once

march forth into view, and take their destined places in the ranks of

human knowledge.

Then the science of computation will be intuitive, as it was in the mind

of Zerah Colburn; the art of music creative, as in the plastic voices of

Jehovah; and the great principles of light and shape and color divine,

as in the genius of Swedenborg and the imagination of Milton.

I have now completed the outline of the sketch, which in the foregoing

pages I proposed to lay before the world.

The peculiar circumstances which led me to explore the remains of the

aboriginal Americans, the adventures attending me in carrying out that

design, the mode of my introduction into the Living City, spoken of by

Stephens, and believed in by so many thousands of enlightened men, and

above all, the wonderful and almost incredible character of the people I

there encountered, together with a rapid review of their language and

literature, have been briefly but faithfully presented to the public.

It but remains for me now to present my readers with a few specimens of

Aztec literature, translated from the hieroglyphics now mouldering amid

the forests of Chiapa; to narrate the history of my escape from the

Living City of the aborigines; to bespeak a friendly word for the

forthcoming history of one of the earliest, most beautiful, and

unfortunate of the Aztec queens, copied _verbatim_ from the annals of

her race, and to bid them one and all, for the present, a respectful

adieu.

Before copying from the blurred and water-soaked manuscript before me, a

single extract from the literary remains of the monumental race amongst

whom I have spent three years and a half of my early manhood, it may not

be deemed improper to remark that a large work upon this subject is now

in course of publication, containing the minutest details of the

domestic life, public institutions, language, and laws of that

interesting people.

The extracts I present to the reader may be relied upon as exactly

correct, since they are taken from the memoranda made upon the spot.

Directly in front of the throne, in the great audience-chamber described

in the preceding chapter, and written in the most beautiful hieroglyphic

extant, I found the following account of the origin of the land:

The Great Spirit, whose emblem is the sun, held the water-drops

out of which the world was made, in the hollow of his hand. He

breathed a tone, and they rounded into the great globe, and

started forth on the errand of counting up the years.

Nothing existed but water and the great fishes of the sea. One

eternity passed. The Great Spirit sent a solid star, round and

beautiful, but dead and no longer burning, and plunged it into

the depths of the oceans. Then the winds were born, and the rains

began to fall. The animals next sprang into existence. They came

up from the star-dust like wheat and maize. The round star

floated upon the waters, and became the dry land; and the land

was high, and its edges steep. It was circular, like a plate, and

all connected together.

The marriage of the land and the sea produced man, but his spirit

came from the beams of the sun.

Another eternity passed away, and the earth became too full of

people. They were all white, because the star fell into the cold

seas, and the sun could not darken their complexions.

Then the sea bubbled up in the middle of the land, and the

country of the Aztecs floated off to the west. Wherever the star

cracked open, there the waters rose up and made the deep sea.

When the east and the west come together again, they will fit

like a garment that has been torn.

Then followed a rough outline of the western coasts of Europe and

Africa, and directly opposite the coasts of North and South America.

The projections of the one exactly fitted the indentations of the other,

and gave a semblance of truth and reality to the wild dream of the Aztec

philosopher. Let the geographer compare them, and he will be more

disposed to wonder than to sneer.

I have not space enough left me to quote any further from the monumental

inscriptions, but if the reader be curious upon this subject, I

recommend to his attention the publication soon to come out, alluded to

above.

# # # # #

Some unusual event certainly had occurred in the city. The great plaza

in front of the palace was thronged with a countless multitude of men

and women, all clamoring for a sacrifice! a sacrifice!

Whilst wondering what could be the cause of this commotion, I was

suddenly summoned before the Princess in the audience-chamber, so often

alluded to before.

My surprise was great when, upon presenting myself before her, I beheld,

pinioned to a heavy log of mahogany, a young man, evidently of European

descent.

The Princess requested me to interpret for her to the stranger, and the

following colloquy took place. The conversation was in the French

language.

Q. "Who are you, and why do you invade my dominions?"

A. "My name is Armand de L'Oreille. I am a Frenchman by birth. I was

sent out by Lamartine, in 1848, as attaché to the expedition of M. de

Bourbourg, whose duties were to explore the forests in the neighborhood

of Palenque, to collate the language of the Central-American Indians, to

copy the inscriptions on the monuments, and, if possible, to reach the

LIVING CITY mentioned by Waldeck, Dupaix, and the American traveler

Stephens."

Q. "But why are you alone? Where is the party to which you belonged?"

A. "Most of them returned to Palenque, after wandering in the wilderness

a few days. Five only determined to proceed; of that number I am the

only survivor."

Here the interview closed.

The council and the queen were not long in determining the fate of M. de

L'Oreille. It was unanimously resolved that he should surrender his life

as a forfeit to his temerity.

The next morning, at sunrise, was fixed for his death. He was to be

sacrificed upon the altar, on the summit of the great Teocallis--an

offering to _Quetzalcohuatl_, the first great prince of the Aztecs. I at

once determined to save the life of the stranger, if I could do so, even

at the hazard of my own. But fate ordained it otherwise. I retired

earlier than usual, and lay silent and moody, revolving on the best

means to accomplish my end.

Midnight at length arrived; I crept stealthily from my bed, and opened

the door of my chamber, as lightly as sleep creeps over the eyelids of

children. But----

[Here the MS. is so blotted, and saturated with saltwater, as to be

illegible for several pages. The next legible sentences are as

follows.--ED.]

Here, for the first time, the woods looked familiar to me. Proceeding a

few steps, I fell into the trail leading toward the modern village of

Palenque, and, after an hour's walk, I halted in front of the _cabilda_

of the town.

I was followed by a motley crowd to the office of the Alcalde, who did

not recognize me, dressed as I was in skins, and half loaded down with

rolls of MS., made from the bark of the mulberry. I related to him and

M. de Bourbourg my adventures; and though the latter declared he had

lost poor Armand and his five companions, yet I am persuaded that

neither of them credited a single word of my story.

Not many days after my safe arrival at Palenque, I seized a favorable

opportunity to visit the ruins of _Casa Grande_. I readily found the

opening to the subterranean passage heretofore described, and after some

troublesome delays at the various landing-places, I finally succeeded in

reaching the very spot whence I had ascended on that eventful night,

nearly three years before, in company with the Aztec Princess.

After exploring many of the mouldering and half-ruined apartments of

this immense palace, I accidentally entered a small room, that at first

seemed to have been a place of sacrifice; but, upon closer inspection, I

ascertained that, like many of those in the "Living City," it was a

chapel dedicated to the memory of some one of the princes of the Aztec

race.

In order to interpret the inscriptions with greater facility, I lit six

or seven candles, and placed them in the best positions to illuminate

the hieroglyphics. Then turning, to take a view of the grand tablet in

the middle of the inscription, my astonishment was indescribable, when I

beheld the exact features, dress and _panache_ of the Aztec maiden,

carved in the everlasting marble before me.

[Decoration]

VIII.

_THE MOTHER'S EPISTLE._

Sweet daughter, leave thy tasks and toys,

Throw idle thoughts aside,

And hearken to a mother's voice,

That would thy footsteps guide;

Though far across the rolling seas,

Beyond the mountains blue,

She sends her counsels on the breeze,

And wafts her blessings too.

To guard thy voyage o'er life's wave,

To guide thy bark aright,

To snatch thee from an early grave,

And gild thy way with light,

Thy mother calls thee to her side,

And takes thee on her knee,

In spite of oceans that divide,

And thus addresses thee:

I.

Learn first this lesson in thy youth,

Which time cannot destroy,

To love and speak and act the truth--

'Tis life's most holy joy;

Wert thou a queen upon a throne,

Decked in each royal gem,

This little jewel would alone

Outshine thy diadem.

II.

Next learn to conquer, as they rise,

Each wave of passion's sea;

Unchecked, 'twill sweep the vaulted skies,

And vanquish heaven and thee;

Lashed on by storms within thy breast,

These billows of the soul

Will wreck thy peace, destroy thy rest,

And ruin as they roll!

III.

But conquered passions were no gain,

Unless where once they grew

There falls the teardrop, like the rain,

And gleams the morning dew;

Sow flowers within thy virgin heart,

That spring from guileless love;

Extend to each a sister's part,

Take lessons of the dove.

IV.

But, daughter, empty were our lives,

And useless all our toils,

If that within us, which survives

Life's transient battle-broils,

Were all untaught in heavenly lore,

Unlearned in virtue's ways,

Ungifted with religion's store,

Unskilled our God to praise.

V.

Take for thy guide the Bible old,

Consult its pages fair

Within them glitter gems and gold,

Repentance, Faith, and Prayer;

Make these companions of thy soul;

Where e'er thy footsteps roam,

And safely shalt thou reach thy goal,

In heaven--the angel's home!

[Decoration]

IX.

_LEGENDS OF LAKE BIGLER._

I.--THE HAUNTED ROCK.

A great many years ago, ere the first white man had trodden the soil of

the American continent, and before the palaces of Uxmal and Palenque

were masses of shapeless ruins--whilst the splendid structures, now

lining the banks of the Gila with broken columns and fallen domes were

inhabited by a nobler race than the cowardly Pimos or the Ishmaelitish

Apaches, there lived and flourished on opposite shores of Lake Bigler

two rival nations, disputing with each other for the supremacy of this

inland sea, and making perpetual war in order to accomplish the object

of their ambition.

The tribe dwelling upon the western shore was called the Ako-ni-tas,

whilst those inhabiting what is now the State of Nevada were known by

the name of Gra-so-po-itas. Each nation was subdivided into smaller

principalities, over which subordinate sachems, or chiefs, presided. In

number, physical appearance, and advance in the arts of civilization,

both very much resembled, and neither could be said to have decidedly

the pre-eminence.

At the time my story commences, Wan-ta-tay-to was principal chief or

king of the Ako-ni-tas, or, as they were sometimes designated,

O-kak-o-nitas, whilst Rhu-tog-au-di presided over the destinies of the

Gra-so-po-itas. The language spoken by these tribes were dialects of

the same original tongue, and could be easily understood the one by the

other. Continued intercourse, even when at war, had assimilated their

customs, laws and religion to such a degree that it often became a

matter of grave doubt as to which tribe occasional deserters belonged.

Intermarriage between the tribes was strictly forbidden, and punished

with death in all cases, no matter what might be the rank, power or

wealth of the violators of the law.

At this era the surface of the lake was about sixty feet higher than at

the present time. Constant evaporation, or perhaps the wearing channel

of the Truckee, has contributed to lower the level of the water, and the

same causes still continue in operation, as is clearly perceptible by

the watermarks of previous years. Thousands of splendid canoes

everywhere dotted its surface; some of them engaged in the peaceful

avocations of fishing and hunting, whilst the large majority were manned

and armed for immediate and deadly hostilities.

The year preceding that in which the events occurred herein related, had

been a very disastrous one to both tribes. A great many deaths had

ensued from casualties in battle; but the chief source of disaster had

been a most terrific hurricane, which had swept over the lake,

upsetting, sinking, and destroying whole fleets of canoes, with all

persons aboard at the time. Amongst the lost were both the royal barges,

with the sons and daughters of the chiefs. The loss had been so

overwhelming and general that the chief of the O-kak-o-nitas had but one

solitary representative of the line royal left, and that was a beloved

daughter named Ta-kem-ena. The rival chieftain was equally unfortunate,

for his entire wigwam had perished with the exception of Mo-ca-ru-po,

his youngest son. But these great misfortunes, instead of producing

peace and good-will, as a universal calamity would be sure to do in an

enlightened nation, tended only to embitter the passions of the hostile

kings and lend new terrors to the war. At once made aware of what the

other had suffered, each promulgated a sort of proclamation, offering an

immense reward for the scalp of his rival's heir.

Wan-ta-tay-to declared that he would give one half his realm to

whomsoever brought the body of Mo-ca-ru-po, dead or alive, within his

lines; and Rhu-tog-au-di, not to be outdone in extravagance, registered

an oath that whosoever captured Ta-kem-ena, the beautiful daughter of

his enemy, should be rewarded with her patrimonial rights, and also be

associated with him in ruling his own dominions.

As is universally the case with all American Indians, the females are

equally warlike and sometimes quite as brave as the males. Ta-kem-ena

was no exception to this rule, and she accordingly made instant

preparations to capture or kill the heir to the throne of her enemy. For

this purpose she selected a small, light bark canoe, and resolved all

alone to make the attempt. Nor did she communicate her intention to any

one else. Her father, even, was kept in profound ignorance of his

daughter's design.

About the same time, a desire for fame, and a thirsting for supreme

power, allured young Mo-ca-ru-po into the lists of those who became

candidates for the recent reward offered by his father. He, too,

determined to proceed alone.

It was just at midnight, of a beautiful moonlight evening, that the

young scions of royalty set forth from opposite shores of the lake, and

stealthily paddled for the dominions of their enemies. When about half

across the boats came violently into collision. Each warrior seized arms

for the conflict. The light of the full moon, riding at mid-heavens,

fell softly upon the features of the Princess, and at the same time

illuminated those of the young Prince.

The blows from the uplifted battle-axes failed to descend. The poisoned

arrows were returned to their quivers. Surprise gave place quickly to

admiration--that to something more human--pity followed close in the

rear, and love, triumphant everywhere, paralyzed the muscles, benumbed

the faculties, and captured the souls of his victims. Pouring a handful

of the pure water of the lake upon each other's heads, as a pledge of

love, and a ceremonial of marriage, in another moment the two were

locked in each other's arms, made man and wife by the yearnings of the

soul, and by a destiny which naught but Omnipotent Power could avert.

What were the commands of kings, their threats, or their punishments, in

the scale with youth, and hope, and love?

Never did those transparent waters leap more lightly beneath the

moonbeams than upon this auspicious night. Hate, revenge, fame, power,

all were forgotten in the supreme delights of love.

Who, indeed, would not be a lover? The future takes the hue of the

rainbow, and spans the whole earth with its arch. The past fades into

instant oblivion, and its dark scenes are remembered no more. Every

beautiful thing looks lovelier--spring's breath smells sweeter--the

heavens bend lower--the stars shine brighter. The eyes, the lips, the

smiles of the loved one, bankrupt all nature. The diamond's gleam, the

flower's blush, the fountain's purity, are all _her_ own! The antelope's

swiftness, the buffalo's strength, the lion's bravery, are but the

reflex of _his_ manly soul!

Fate thus had bound these two lovers in indissoluble bonds: let us now

see what it had left in reserve.

The plashing of paddles aroused the lovers from their caressing. Quickly

leaping into his own boat, side by side, they flew over the exultant

waves, careless for the moment whither they went, and really aimless in

their destination. Having safely eluded their pursuers, if such they

were, the princes now consulted as to their future course. After long

and anxious debate it was finally determined that they should part for

the present, and would each night continue to meet at midnight at the

majestic rock which towered up from the waves high into the heavens, not

far from what is now known as Pray's Farm, that being the residence and

headquarters of the O-kak-oni-ta tribe.

Accordingly, after many protestations of eternal fidelity, and warned by

the ruddy gleam along the eastern sky, they parted.

Night after night, for many weeks and months, the faithful lovers met at

the appointed place, and proved their affection by their constancy. They

soon made the discovery that the immense rock was hollow, and contained

a magnificent cave. Here, safe from all observation, the tardy months

rolled by, both praying for peace, yet neither daring to mention a

termination of hostilities to their sires. Finally, the usual

concomitants of lawful wedlock began to grow manifest in the rounded

form of the Princess--in her sadness, her drooping eyes, and her

perpetual uneasiness whilst in the presence of her father. Not able any

longer to conceal her griefs, they became the court scandal, and she

was summoned to the royal presence and required to name her lover. This,

of course, she persisted in refusing, but spies having been set upon her

movements, herself and lover were surrounded and entrapped in the fatal

cave.

In vain did she plead for the life of the young prince, regardless of

her own. His doom was sealed. An embassador was sent to Rhu-tog-au-di,

announcing the treachery of his son, and inviting that chief to be

present at the immolation of both victims. He willingly consented to

assist in the ceremonies. A grand council of the two nations was

immediately called, in order to determine in what manner the death

penalty should be inflicted. After many and grave debates, it was

resolved that the lovers should be incarcerated in the dark and gloomy

cave where they had spent so many happy hours, and there starve to

death.

It was a grand gala-day with the O-kak-oni-tas and the Gra-sop-o-itas.

The mighty chiefs had been reconciled, and the wealth, power and beauty

of the two realms turned out in all the splendor of fresh paint and

brilliant feathers, to do honor to the occasion. The young princes were

to be put to death. The lake in the vicinity of the rock was alive with

canoes. The hills in the neighborhood were crowded with spectators. The

two old kings sat in the same splendid barge, and followed close after

the bark canoe in which the lovers were being conveyed to their living

tomb. Silently they gazed into each other's faces and smiled. For each

other had they lived; with one another were they now to die. Without

food, without water, without light, they were hurried into their bridal

chamber, and huge stones rolled against the only entrance.

Evening after evening the chiefs sat upon the grave portals of their

children. At first they were greeted with loud cries, extorted by the

gnawing of hunger and the agony of thirst. Gradually the cries gave way

to low moans, and finally, after ten days had elapsed, the tomb became

as silent as the lips of the lovers. Then the huge stones were, by the

command of the two kings, rolled away, and a select body of warriors

ordered to enter and bring forth their lifeless forms. But the west wind

had sprung up, and just as the stones were taken from the entrance, a

low, deep, sorrowful sigh issued from the mouth of the cave. Startled

and terrified beyond control, the warriors retreated hastily from the

spot; and the weird utterances continuing, no warriors could be found

brave enough to sound the depths of that dreadful sepulchre. Day after

day canoes crowded about the mouth of the cave, and still the west wind

blew, and still the sighs and moans continued to strike the souls of the

trembling warriors.

Finally, no canoe dared approach the spot. In paddling past they would

always veer their canoes seaward, and hurry past with all the speed they

could command.

Centuries passed away; the level of the lake had sunk many feet; the

last scions of the O-kak-oni-tas and the Gra-sop-o-itas had mouldered

many years in the burying-grounds of their sires, and a new race had

usurped their old hunting grounds. Still no one had ever entered the

haunted cave.

One day, late in the autumn of 1849, a company of emigrants on their way

to California, were passing, toward evening, the month of the cavern,

and hearing a strange, low, mournful sigh, seeming to issue thence, they

landed their canoe and resolved to solve the mystery. Lighting some

pitch-pine torches, they proceeded cautiously to explore the cavern. For

a long time they could discern nothing. At length, in the furthest

corner of the gloomy recess, they found two human skeletons, with their

bony arms entwined, and their fleshless skulls resting upon each other's

bosoms. The lovers are dead, but the old cave still echoes with their

dying sobs.

II.--DICK BARTER'S YARN; OR, THE LAST OF THE MERMAIDS.

Well, Dick began, you see I am an old salt, having sailed the seas for

more than forty-nine years, and being entirely unaccustomed to living

upon the land. By some accident or other, I found myself, in the winter

of 1849, cook for a party of miners who were sluicing high up the North

Fork of the American. We had a hard time all winter, and when spring

opened, it was agreed that I and a comrade named Liehard should cross

the summit and spend a week fishing at the lake. We took along an old

Washoe Indian, who spoke Spanish, as a guide. This old man had formerly

lived on the north margin of the lake, near where Tahoe City is now

situated, and was perfectly familiar with all the most noted fishing

grounds and chief points of interest throughout its entire circuit.

We had hardly got started before he commenced telling us of a remarkable

struggle, which he declared had been going on for many hundred years

between a border tribe of Indians and the inhabitants of the lake, whom

he designated as Water-men, or "_hombres de las aguas_." On asking if he

really meant to say that human beings lived and breathed like fish in

Lake Bigler, he declared without any hesitation that such was the fact;

that he had often seen them; and went on to describe a terrific combat

he witnessed a great many years ago, between a Pol-i-wog chief and _a

man of the water_. On my expressing some doubt as to the veracity of the

statement, he proffered to show us the very spot where it occurred; and

at the same time expressed a belief that by manufacturing a whistle from

the bark of the mountain chinquapin, and blowing it as the Pol-i-wogs

did, we might entice some of their old enemies from the depths of the

lake. My curiosity now being raised tip-toe, I proceeded to interrogate

Juan more closely, and in answer I succeeded in obtaining the following

curious particulars:

The tribe of border Indians called the Pol-i-wogs were a sort of

amphibious race, and a hybrid between the Pi-Utes and the mermaids of

the lake. They were of a much lighter color than their progenitors, and

were distinguished by a great many peculiar characteristics. Exceedingly

few in number, and quarrelsome in the extreme, they resented every

intrusion upon the waters of the lake as a personal affront, and made

perpetual war upon neighboring tribes. Hence, as Juan remarked, they

soon became extinct after the invasion of the Washoes. The last of them

disappeared about twenty-five years ago. The most noted of their

peculiarities were the following:

First. Their heads were broad and extremely flat; the eyes protuberant,

and the ears scarcely perceptible--being a small opening closed by a

movable valve shaped like the scale of a salmon. Their mouths were very

large, extending entirely across the cheeks, and bounded by a hard rim

of bone, instead of the common lip. In appearance, therefore, the head

did not look unlike an immense catfish head, except there were no fins

about the jaws, and no feelers, as we call them.

Second. Their necks were short, stout, and chubby, and they possessed

the power of inflating them at will, and thus distending them to two or

three times their ordinary size.

Third. Their bodies were long, round, and flexible. When wet, they

glistened in the sun like the back of an eel, and seemed to possess much

greater buoyancy than those of common men. But the greatest wonder of

all was a kind of loose membrane, that extended from beneath their

shoulders all the way down their sides, and connected itself with the

upper portion of their thighs. This loose skin resembled the wings of

the common house bat, and when spread out, as it always did in the

water, looked like the membrane lining of the legs and fore feet of the

chipmunk.

Fourth. The hands and feet were distinguished for much greater length of

toe and finger; and their extremities grew together like the toes of a

duck, forming a complete web betwixt all the fingers and toes.

The Pol-i-wogs lived chiefly upon fish and oysters, of which there was

once a great abundance in the lake. They were likewise cannibals, and

ate their enemies without stint or compunction. A young Washoe girl was

considered a feast, but a lake maiden was the _ne plus ultra_ of

luxuries. The Washoes reciprocated the compliment, and fattened upon the

blubber of the Pol-i-wogs. It is true that they were extremely difficult

to capture, for, when hotly pursued, they plunged into the lake, and by

expert swimming and extraordinary diving, they generally managed to

effect their escape.

Juan having exhausted his budget concerning the Pol-i-wogs, I requested

him to give us as minute a description of the Lake Mermaids. This he

declined for the present to do, alleging as an excuse that we would

first attempt to capture, or at least to see one for ourselves, and if

our hunt was unsuccessful, he would then gratify our curiosity.

It was some days before we came in sight of this magnificent sheet of

water. Finally, however, after many perilous adventures in descending

the Sierras, we reached the margin of the lake. Our first care was to

procure trout enough to last until we got ready to return. That was an

easy matter, for in those days the lake was far more plentifully

supplied than at present. We caught many thousands at a place where a

small brook came down from the mountains, and formed a pool not a great

distance from its entrance into the lake, and this pool was alive with

them. It occupied us but three days to catch, clean, and sun-dry as many

as our single mule could carry, and having still nearly a week to spare

we determined to start off in pursuit of the mermaids.

Our guide faithfully conducted us to the spot where he beheld the

conflict between the last of the Pol-i-wogs and one of the water-men. As

stated above, it is nearly on the spot where Tahoe City now stands. The

battle was a fierce one, as the combatants were equally matched in

strength and endurance, and was finally terminated only by the

interposition of a small party of Washoes, our own guide being of the

number. The struggle was chiefly in the water, the Pol-i-wog being

better able to swim than the mermaid was to walk. Still, as occasion

required, a round or two took place on the gravelly beach. Never did old

Spain and England engage in fiercer conflict for the dominion of the

seas, than now occurred between Pol-i-wog and Merman for the mastery of

the lake. Each fought, as the Roman fought, for Empire. The Pol-i-wog,

like the last of the Mohicans, had seen his tribe melt away, until he

stood, like some solitary column at Persepolis, the sole monument of a

once gorgeous temple. The water chieftain also felt that upon his arm,

or rather tail, everything that made life desirable was staked. Above

all, the trident of his native sea was involved.

The weapons of the Pol-i-wog were his teeth and his hind legs. Those of

the Merman were all concentrated in the flop of his scaly tail. With the

energy of a dying alligator, he would encircle, with one tremendous

effort, the bruised body of the Pol-i-wog, and floor him beautifully on

the beach. Recovering almost instantly, the Pol-i-wog would seize the

Merman by the long black hair, kick him in the region of the stomach,

and grapple his windpipe between his bony jaws, as the mastiff does the

infuriated bull.

Finally, after a great many unsuccessful attempts to drag the Pol-i-wog

into deep water, the mermaid was seized by her long locks and suddenly

jerked out upon the beach in a very battered condition. At this moment,

the Washoes with a yell rushed toward the combatants, but the Pol-i-wog

seeing death before him upon water and land equally, preferred the

embraces of the water nymphs to the stomachs of the landsmen, and

rolling over rapidly was soon borne off into unfathomable depths by the

triumphant Merman.

Such was the story of Juan. It resembled the condition of the ancient

Britons, who, being crowded by the Romans from the sea, and attacked by

the Picts from the interior, lamented their fate as the most unfortunate

of men. "The Romans," they said, "drive us into the land; there we are

met by the Picts, who in turn drive us into the sea. We must perish in

either event. Those whom enemies spare, the waves devour."

Our first step was to prepare a chinquapin whistle. The flute was easily

manufactured by Juan himself, thuswise: He cut a twig about eighteen

inches in length, and not more than half an inch in diameter, and

peeling the bark from the ends an inch or so, proceeded to rub the bark

rapidly with a dry stick peeled perfectly smooth. In a short time the

sap in the twig commenced to exude from both ends. Then placing the

large end between his teeth he pulled suddenly, and the bark slipped off

with a crack in it. Then cutting a small hole in the form of a

parallelogram, near the upper end, he adjusted a stopper with flattened

surface so as to fit exactly the opening. Cutting off the end of the

stopple even with the bark and filling the lower opening nearly full of

clay, he declared the work was done. As a proof of this, he blew into

the hollow tube, and a low, musical sound was emitted, very flute-like

and silvery. When blown harshly, it could be heard at a great distance,

and filled the air with melodious echoes.

Thus equipped, we set out upon our search. The first two days were spent

unsuccessfully. On the third we found ourselves near what is now called

Agate Beach. At this place a small cove indents the land, which sweeps

round in the form of a semi-circle. The shore is literally packed with

agates and crystals. We dug some more than two feet deep in several

places, but still could find no bottom to the glittering floor. They are

of all colors, but the prevailing hues are red and yellow. Here Juan

paused, and lifting his whistle to his lips, he performed a multitude of

soft, gentle airs, which floated across the calm waves like a lover's

serenade breathes o'er the breast of sleeping beauty. It all seemed in

vain. We had now entirely circumnavigated the lake, and were on the eve

of despairing utterly, when suddenly we beheld the surface of the lake,

nearly a quarter of a mile from the shore, disturbed violently, as if

some giant whale were floundering with a harpoon in its side. In a

moment more the head and neck of one of those tremendous serpents that

of late years have infested the lake, were uplifted some ten or fifteen

feet above the surface. Almost at the same instant we beheld the head,

face and hair, as of a human being, emerge quickly from the water, and

look back toward the pursuing foe. The truth flashed upon us

instantaneously. Here was a mermaid pursued by a serpent. On they came,

seemingly regardless of our presence, and had approached to within

twenty yards of the spot where we stood, when suddenly both came to a

dead halt. Juan had never ceased for a moment to blow his tuneful flute,

and it now became apparent that the notes had struck their hearing at

the same time. To say that they were charmed would but half express

their ecstatic condition. They were absolutely entranced.

The huge old serpent lolled along the waters for a hundred feet or so,

and never so much as shook the spray from his hide. He looked like

Milton's portrait of Satan, stretched out upon the burning marl of hell.

In perfect contrast with the sea monster, the beautiful mermaiden lifted

her pallid face above the water, dripping with the crystal tears of the

lake, and gathering her long raven locks, that floated like the train of

a meteor down her back, she carelessly flung them across her swelling

bosom, as if to reproach us for gazing upon her beauteous form. But

there my eyes were fastened! If she were entranced by the music, I was

not less so with her beauty. Presently the roseate hues of a dying

dolphin played athwart her brow and cheeks, and ere long a gentle sigh,

as if stolen from the trembling chords of an Eolian harp, issued from

her coral lips. Again and again it broke forth, until it beat in full

symphony with the cadences of Juan's rustic flute.

My attention was at this moment aroused by the suspicious clicking of my

comrade's rifle. Turning around suddenly, I beheld Liehard, with his

piece leveled at the unconscious mermaid.

"Great God!" I exclaimed! "Liehard, would you commit murder?" But the

warning came too late, for instantaneously the quick report of his rifle

and the terrific shriek of the mermaid broke the noontide stillness;

and, rearing her bleeding form almost entirely out of the water, she

plunged headlong forwards, a corpse. Beholding his prey, powerless

within his grasp, the serpent splashed toward her, and, ere I could cock

my rifle, he had seized her unresisting body, and sank with it into the

mysterious caverns of the lake. At this instant, I gave a loud outcry,

as if in pain. On opening my eyes, my wife was bending over me, the

midday sun was shining in my face, Dick Barter was spinning some

confounded yarn about the Bay of Biscay and the rum trade of Jamaica,

and the sloop _Edith Beaty_ was still riding at anchor off the wild

glen, and gazing tranquilly at her ugly image in the crystal mirror of

Lake Bigler.

[Decoration]

[Decoration]

X.

_ROSENTHAL'S ELAINE._

I stood and gazed far out into the waste;

No dip of oar broke on the listening ear;

But the quick rippling of the inward flood

Gave warning of approaching argosy.

Adown the west, the day's last fleeting gleam

Faded and died, and left the world in gloom.

Hope hung no star up in the murky east

To cheer the soul, or guide the pilgrim's way.

Black frown'd the heavens, and black the answering earth

Reflected from her watery wastes the night.

Sudden, a plash! then silence. Once again

The dripping oar dipped in its silver blade,

Parting the waves, as smiles part beauty's lips.

Betwixt me and the curtain of the cloud,

Close down by the horizon's verge, there crept

From out the darkness, barge and crew and freight,

Sailless and voiceless, all!

Ah! Then I knew

I stood upon the brink of Time. I saw

Before me Death's swift river sweep along

And bear its burden to the grave.

"Elaine!"

One seamew screamed, in solitary woe;

"Elaine! Elaine!" stole back the echo, weird

And musical, from off the further shore.

Then burst a chorus wild, "Elaine! Elaine!"

And gazing upward through the twilight haze,

Mine eyes beheld King Arthur's phantom Court.

There stood the sturdy monarch: he who drove

The hordes of Hengist from old Albion's strand;

And, leaning on his stalwart arm, his queen,

The fair, the false, but trusted Guinevere!

And there, like the statue of a demi-god,

In marble wrought by some old Grecian hand,

With eyes downcast, towered Lancelot of the Lake.

Lavaine and Torre, the heirs of Astolat,

And he, the sorrowing Sire of the Dead,

Together with a throng of valiant knights

And ladies fair, were gathered as of yore,

At the Round Table of bold Arthur's Court.

There, too, was Tristram, leaning on his lance,

Whose eyes alone of all that weeping host

Swam not in tears; but indignation burned

Red in their sockets, like volcanic fires,

And from their blazing depths a Fury shot

Her hissing arrows at the guilty pair.

Then Lancelot, advancing to the front,

With glance transfixed upon the canvas true

That sheds immortal fame on ROSENTHAL,

Thus chanted forth his Requiem for the Dead:

Fresh as the water in the fountain,

Fair as the lily by its side,

Pure as the snow upon the mountain,

Is the angel

Elaine!

My spirit bride!

Day after day she grew fairer,

As she pined away in sorrow, at my side;

No pearl in the ocean could be rarer

Than the angel

Elaine!

My spirit bride!

The hours passed away all unheeded,

For love hath no landmarks in its tide.

No child of misfortune ever pleaded

In vain

To Elaine!

My spirit bride!

Here, where sad Tamesis is rolling

The wave of its sorrow-laden tide,

Forever on the air is heard tolling

The refrain

Of Elaine!

My spirit bride!

[Decoration]

[Decoration]

XI.

_THE TELESCOPIC EYE._

A LEAF FROM A REPORTER'S NOTE-BOOK.

For the past five or six weeks, rumors of a strange abnormal development

of the powers of vision of a youth named Johnny Palmer, whose parents

reside at South San Francisco, have been whispered around in scientific

circles in the city, and one or two short notices have appeared in the

columns of some of our contemporaries relative to the prodigious _lusus

naturæ_, as the scientists call it.

Owing to the action taken by the California College of Sciences, whose

members comprise some of our most scientific citizens, the affair has

assumed such importance as to call for a careful and exhaustive

investigation.

Being detailed to investigate the flying stories, with regard to the

powers of vision claimed for a lad named John or "Johnny" Palmer, as his

parents call him, we first of all ventured to send in our card to

Professor Gibbins, the President of the California College of Sciences.

It is always best to call at the fountain-head for useful information, a

habit which our two hundred thousand readers on this coast can never

fail to see and appreciate. An estimable gentleman of the African

persuasion, to whom we handed our "pasteboard," soon returned with the

polite message, "Yes, sir; _in_. Please walk up." And so we followed our

conductor through several passages almost as dark as the face of the

_cicerone_, and in a few moments found ourselves in the presence of,

perhaps, the busiest man in the city of San Francisco.

Without any flourish of trumpets, the Professor inquired our object in

seeking him and the information we desired. "Ah," said he, "that is a

long story. I have no time to go into particulars just now. I am

computing the final sheet of Professor Davidson's report of the Transit

of Venus, last year, at Yokohama and Loo-Choo. It must be ready before

May, and it requires six months' work to do it correctly."

"But," I rejoined, "can't you tell me where the lad is to be found?"

"And if I did, they will not let you see him."

"Let me alone for that," said I, smiling; "a reporter, like love, finds

his way where wolves would fear to tread."

"Really, my dear sir," quickly responded the Doctor, "I have no time to

chat this morning. Our special committee submitted its report yesterday,

which is on file in that book-case; and if you will promise not to

publish it until after it has been read in open session of the College,

you may take it to your sanctum, run it over, and clip from it enough to

satisfy the public for the present."

Saying this, he rose from his seat, opened the case, took from a

pigeon-hole a voluminous written document tied up with red tape, and

handed it to me, adding, "Be careful!" Seating himself without another

word, he turned his back on me, and I sallied forth into the street.

Reaching the office, I scrutinized the writing on the envelope, and

found it as follows: "Report of Special Committee--Boy

Palmer--Vision--Laws of Light--Filed February 10, 1876--Stittmore,

Sec." Opening the document, I saw at once that it was a full, accurate,

and, up to the present time, complete account of the phenomenal case I

was after, and regretted the promise made not to publish the entire

report until read in open session of the College. Therefore, I shall be

compelled to give the substance of the report in my own words, only

giving _verbatim_ now and then a few scientific phrases which are not

fully intelligible to me, or susceptible of circumlocution in common

language.

The report is signed by Doctors Bryant, Gadbury and Golson, three of our

ablest medical men, and approved by Professor Smyth, the oculist. So

far, therefore, as authenticity and scientific accuracy are concerned,

our readers may rely implicitly upon the absolute correctness of every

fact stated and conclusion reached.

The first paragraph of the report gives the name of the child, "John

Palmer, age, nine years, and place of residence, South San Francisco,

Culp Hill, near Catholic Orphan Asylum;" and then plunges at once into

_in medias res_.

It appears that the period through which the investigation ran was only

fifteen days; but it seems to have been so thorough, by the use of the

ophthalmoscope and other modern appliances and tests, that no regrets

ought to be indulged as to the brevity of the time employed in

experiments. Besides, we have superadded a short and minute account of

our own, verifying some of the most curious facts reported, with several

tests proposed by ourselves and not included in the statement of the

scientific committee.

To begin, then, with the beginning of the inquiries by the committee.

They were conducted into a small back room, darkened by old blankets

hung up at the window, for the purpose of the total exclusion of

daylight; an absurd remedy for blindness, recommended by a noted quack

whose name adorns the extra fly-leaf of the San Francisco _Truth

Teller_. The lad was reclining upon an old settee, ill-clad and almost

idiotic in expression. As the committee soon ascertained, his mother

only was at home, the father being absent at his customary

occupation--that of switch-tender on the San Jose Railroad. She notified

her son of the presence of strangers and he rose and walked with a firm

step toward where the gentlemen stood, at the entrance of the room. He

shook them all by the hand and bade them good morning. In reply to

questions rapidly put and answered by his mother, the following account

of the infancy of the boy and the accidental discovery of his

extraordinary powers of vision was given:

He was born in the house where the committee found him, nine years ago

the 15th of last January. Nothing of an unusual character occurred until

his second year, when it was announced by a neighbor that the boy was

completely blind, his parents never having been suspicious of the fact

before that time, although the mother declared that for some months

anterior to the discovery she had noticed some acts of the child that

seemed to indicate mental imbecility rather than blindness. From this

time forward until a few months ago nothing happened to vary the boy's

existence except a new remedy now and then prescribed by neighbors for

the supposed malady. He was mostly confined to a darkened chamber, and

was never trusted alone out of doors. He grew familiar, by touch and

sound, with the forms of most objects about him, and could form very

accurate guesses of the color and texture of them all. His

conversational powers did not seem greatly impaired, and he readily

acquired much useful knowledge from listening attentively to everything

that was said in his presence. He was quite a musician, and touched the

harmonicon, banjo and accordeon with skill and feeling. He was unusually

sensitive to the presence of light, though incapable of seeing any

object with any degree of distinctness; and hence the attempt to exclude

light as the greatest enemy to the recovery of vision. It was very

strange that up to the time of the examination of the committee, no

scientific examination of the boy's eye had been made by a competent

oculist, the parents contenting themselves with the chance opinions of

visitors or the cheap nostrums of quacks. It is perhaps fortunate for

science that this was the case, as a cure for the eye might have been an

extinction of its abnormal power.

On the evening of the 12th of December last (1875), the position of the

child's bed was temporarily changed to make room for a visitor. The bed

was placed against the wall of the room, fronting directly east, with

the window opening at the side of the bed next to the head. The boy was

sent to bed about seven o'clock, and the parents and their visitor were

seated in the front room, spending the evening in social intercourse.

The moon rose full and cloudless about half-past seven o'clock, and

shone full in the face of the sleeping boy.

Something aroused him from slumber, and when he opened his eyes the

first object they encountered was the round disk of her orb. By some

oversight the curtain had been removed from the window, and probably for

the first time in his life he beheld the lustrous queen of night

swimming in resplendent radiance, and bathing hill and bay in effulgent

glory. Uttering a cry, equally of terror and delight, he sprang up in

bed and sat there like a statue, with eyes aglare, mouth open, finger

pointed, and astonishment depicted on every feature. His sudden, sharp

scream brought his mother to his side, who tried for some moments in

vain to distract his gaze from the object before him. Failing even to

attract notice, she called in her husband and friend, and together they

besought the boy to lie down and go to sleep, but to no avail. Believing

him to be ill and in convulsions, they soon seized him, and were on the

point of immersing him in a hot bath, when, with a sudden spring, he

escaped from their grasp and ran out the front door. Again he fixed his

unwinking eyes upon the moon, and remained speechless for several

seconds. At length, having seemingly satisfied his present curiosity, he

turned on his mother, who stood wringing her hands in the doorway and

moaning piteously, and exclaimed, "I can see the moon yonder, and it is

so beautiful that I am going there to-morrow morning, as soon as I get

up."

"How big does it look?" said his mother.

"So big," he replied, "that I cannot see it all at one glance--as big as

all out of doors."

"How far off from you does it seem to be?"

"About half a car's distance," he quickly rejoined.

It may be here remarked that the boy's idea of distance had been

measured all his life by the distance from his home to the street-car

station at the foot of the hill. This was about two hundred yards, so

that the reply indicated that the moon appeared to be only one hundred

yards from the spectator. The boy then proceeded of his own accord to

give a very minute description of the appearance of objects which he

beheld, corresponding, of course, to his poverty of words with which to

clothe his ideas.

His account of things beheld by him was so curious, wonderful and

apparently accurate, that the little group about him passed rapidly from

a conviction of his insanity to a belief no less absurd--that he had

become, in the cant lingo of the day, a seeing, or "clairvoyant" medium.

Such was the final conclusion to which his parents had arrived at the

time of the visit of the scientific committee. He had been classed with

that credulous school known to this century as spiritualists, and had

been visited solely by persons of that ilk heretofore.

The committee having fully examined the boy, and a number of independent

witnesses, as to the facts, soon set about a scientific investigation of

the true causes of of the phenomenon. The first step, of course, was to

examine the lad's eye with the modern ophthalmoscope, an invention of

Professor Helmholtz, of Heidelberg, a few years ago, by means of which

the depths of this organ can be explored, and the smallest variations

from a healthy or normal condition instantaneously detected.

The mode of using the instrument is as follows: The room is made

perfectly dark; a brilliant light is then placed near the head of the

patient, and the rays are reflected by a series of small mirrors into

his eye, as if they came from the eye of the observer; then, by looking

through the central aperture of the instrument, the oculist can examine

the illuminated interior of the eyeball, and perceive every detail of

structure, healthy or morbid, as accurately and clearly as we can see

any part of the exterior of the body. No discomfort arises to the organ

examined, and all its hidden mysteries can be studied and understood as

clearly as those of any other organ of the body.

This course was taken with John Palmer, and the true secret of his

mysterious power of vision detected in an instant.

On applying the ophthalmoscope, the committee ascertained in a moment

that the boy's eye was abnormally shaped. A natural, perfect eye is

perfectly round. But the eye examined was exceedingly flat, very thin,

with large iris, flat lens, immense petira, and wonderfully dilated

pupil. The effect of the shape was at once apparent. It was utterly

impossible to see any object with distinctness at any distance short of

many thousands of miles. Had the eye been elongated inward, or shaped

like an egg--to as great an extent, the boy would have been effectually

blind, for no combination of lens power could have placed the image of

the object beyond the coat of the retina. In other words, there are two

common imperfections of the human organ of sight; one called _myopia_,

or "near-sightedness;" the _presbyopia_, or "far-sightedness."

"The axis being too long," says the report, "in myopic eyes, parallel

rays, such as proceed from distant objects, are brought to a focus at a

point so far in front of the retina, that only confused images are

formed upon it. Such a malformation, constituting an excess of

refractive power, can only be neutralized by concave glasses, which give

such a direction to rays entering the eye as will allow of their being

brought to a focus at a proper point for distant perception."

"Presbyopia is the reverse of all this. The antero-posterior axis of

such eyes being too short, owing to the flat plate-like shape of the

ball, their refractive power is not sufficient to bring even parallel

rays to a focus upon the retina, but is adapted for convergent rays

only. Convex glasses, in a great measure, compensate for this quality by

rendering parallel rays convergent; and such glasses, in ordinary cases,

bring the rays to a focus at a convenient distance from the glass,

corresponding to its degree of curvature." But in the case under

examination, no glass or combination of glasses could be invented

sufficiently concave to remedy the malformation. By a mathematical

problem of easy solution, it was computed that the nearest distance from

the unaided eye of the patient at which a distinct image could be formed

upon the retina, was two hundred and forty thousand miles, a fraction

short of the mean distance of the moon from the earth; and hence it

became perfectly clear that the boy could see with minute distinctness

whatever was transpiring on the surface of the moon.

Such being the undeniable truth as demonstrated by science, the

declaration of the lad assumed a far higher value than the mere dicta of

spiritualists, or the mad ravings of a monomaniac; and the committee at

once set to work to glean all the astronomical knowledge they could by

frequent and prolonged night interviews with the boy.

It was on the night of January 9, 1876, that the first satisfactory

experiment was tried, testing beyond all cavil or doubt the powers of

the subject's eye. It was full moon, and that luminary rose clear and

dazzlingly bright. The committee were on hand at an early hour, and the

boy was in fine condition and exuberant spirits. The interview was

secret, and none but the members of the committee and the parents of the

child were present. Of course the first proposition to be settled was

that of the inhabitability of that sphere. This the boy had frequently

declared was the case, and he had on several previous occasions

described minutely the form, size and means of locomotion of the

Lunarians. On this occasion he repeated in almost the same language,

what he had before related to his parents and friends, but was more

minute, owing to the greater transparency of the atmosphere and the

experience in expression already acquired.

The Lunarians are not formed at all like ourselves. They are less in

height, and altogether of a different appearance. When fully grown, they

resemble somewhat a chariot wheel, with four spokes, converging at the

center or axle. They have four eyes in the head, which is the axle, so

to speak, and all the limbs branch out directly from the center, like

some sea-forms known as "Radiates." They move by turning rapidly like a

wheel, and travel as fast as a bird through the air. The children are

undeveloped in form, and are perfectly round, like a pumpkin or orange.

As they grow older, they seem to drop or absorb the rotundity of the

whole body, and finally assume the appearance of a chariot wheel.

They are of different colors, or nationalities--bright red, orange and

blue being the predominant hues. The reds are in a large majority. They

do no work, but sleep every four or five hours. They have no houses, and

need none. They have no clothing, and do not require it. There being no

night on the side of the moon fronting the sun, and no day on the

opposite side, all the inhabitants, apparently at a given signal of some

kind, form into vast armies, and flock in myriads to the sleeping

grounds on the shadow-side of the planet. They do not appear to go very

far over the dark rim, for they reappear in immense platoons in a few

hours, and soon spread themselves over the illuminated surface. They

sleep and wake about six times in one ordinary day of twenty-four hours.

Their occupations cannot be discerned; they must be totally different

from anything upon the earth.

The surface of the moon is all hill and hollow. There are but few level

spots, nor is there any water visible. The atmosphere is almost as

refined and light as hydrogen gas. There is no fire visible, nor are

there any volcanoes. Most of the time of the inhabitants seems to be

spent in playing games of locomotion, spreading themselves into squares,

circles, triangles, and other mathematical figures. They move always in

vast crowds. No one or two are ever seen separated from the main bodies.

The children also flock in herds, and seem to be all of one family.

Individualism is unknown. They seem to spawn like herring or shad, or to

be propagated like bees, from the queen, in myriads. Motion is their

normal condition. The moment after a mathematical figure is formed, it

is dissolved, and fresh combinations take place, like the atoms in a

kaleidoscope. No other species of animal, bird, or being exist upon the

illuminated face of the moon.

The shrubbery and vegetation of the moon is all metallic. Vegetable life

nowhere exists; but the forms of some of the shrubs and trees are

exceedingly beautiful. The highest trees do not exceed twenty-five feet,

and they appear to have all acquired their full growth. The ground is

strewn with flowers, but they are all formed of metals--gold, silver,

copper, and tin predominating. But there is a new kind of metal seen

everywhere on tree, shrub and flower, nowhere known on the earth. It is

of a bright vermilion color, and is semi-transparent. The mountains are

all of bare and burnt granite, and appear to have been melted with fire.

The committee called the attention of the boy to the bright "sea of

glass" lately observed near the northern rim of the moon, and inquired

of what it is composed. He examined it carefully, and gave such a minute

description of it that it became apparent at once to the committee that

it was pure mercury or quicksilver. The reason why it has but very

recently shown itself to astronomers is thus accounted for: it appears

close up to the line of demarcation separating the light and shadow upon

the moon's disk; and on closer inspection a distinct cataract of the

fluid--in short, a metallic Niagara, was clearly seen falling from the

night side to the day side of the luminary. It has already filled up a

vast plain--one of the four that exist on the moon's surface--and

appears to be still emptying itself with very great rapidity and volume.

It covers an area of five by seven hundred miles in extent, and may

possibly deluge one half the entire surface of the moon. It does not

seem to occasion much apprehension to the inhabitants, as they were soon

skating, so to speak, in platoons and battalions, over and across it. In

fact, it presents the appearance of an immense park, to which the

Lunarians flock, and disport themselves with great gusto upon its

polished face. One of the most beautiful sights yet seen by the lad was

the formation of a new figure, which he drew upon the sand with his

finger.

The central heart was of crimson-colored natives; the one to the right

of pale orange, and the left of bright blue. It was ten seconds in

forming, and five seconds in dispersing. The number engaged in the

evolution could not be less than half a million.

Thus has been solved one of the great astronomical questions of the

century.

The next evening the committee assembled earlier, so as to get a view of

the planet Venus before the moon rose. It was the first time that the

lad's attention had been drawn to any of the planets, and he evinced the

liveliest joy when he first beheld the cloudless disk of that

resplendent world. It may here be stated that his power of vision, in

looking at the fixed stars, was no greater or less than that of an

ordinary eye. They appeared only as points of light, too far removed

into the infinite beyond to afford any information concerning their

properties. But the committee were doomed to a greater disappointment

when they inquired of the boy what he beheld on the surface of Venus. He

replied, "Nothing clearly; all is confused and watery; I see nothing

with distinctness." The solution of the difficulty was easily

apprehended, and at once surmised. The focus of the eye was fixed by

nature at 240,000 miles, and the least distance of Venus from the earth

being 24,293,000 miles, it was, of course, impossible to observe that

planet's surface with distinctness. Still she appeared greatly enlarged,

covering about one hundredth part of the heavens, and blazing with

unimaginable splendor.

Experiments upon Jupiter and Mars were equally futile, and the committee

half sorrowfully turned again to the inspection of the moon.

The report then proceeds at great length to give full descriptions of

the most noted geographical peculiarities of the lunar surface, and

corrects many errors fallen into by Herschel, Leverrier and Proctor.

Professor Secchi informs us that the surface of the moon is much better

known to astronomers than the surface of the earth is to geographers;

for there are two zones on the globe within the Arctic and Antarctic

circles, that we can never examine. But every nook and cranny of the

illuminated face of the moon has been fully delineated, examined and

named, so that no object greater than sixty feet square exists but has

been seen and photographed by means of Lord Rosse's telescope and De la

Ruis' camera and apparatus. As the entire report will be ordered

published at the next weekly meeting of the College, we refrain from

further extracts, but now proceed to narrate the results of our own

interviews with the boy.

It was on the evening of the 17th of February, 1876, that we ventured

with rather a misgiving heart to approach Culp Hill, and the humble

residence of a child destined, before the year is out, to become the

most celebrated of living beings. We armed ourselves with a pound of

sugar candy for the boy, some _muslin-de-laine_ as a present to the

mother, and a box of cigars for the father. We also took with us a very

large-sized opera-glass, furnished for the purpose by M. Muller. At

first we encountered a positive refusal; then, on exhibiting the cigars,

a qualified negative; and finally, when the muslin and candy were drawn

on the enemy, we were somewhat coldly invited in and proffered a seat.

The boy was pale and restless, and his eyes without bandage or glasses.

We soon ingratiated ourself into the good opinion of the whole party,

and henceforth encountered no difficulty in pursuing our investigations.

The moon being nearly full, we first of all verified the tests by the

committee. These were all perfectly satisfactory and reliable.

Requesting, then, to stay until after midnight, for the purpose of

inspecting Mars with the opera-glass, we spent the interval in obtaining

the history of the child, which we have given above.

The planet Mars being at this time almost in dead opposition to the sun,

and with the earth in conjunction, is of course as near to the earth as

he ever approaches, the distance being thirty-five millions of miles. He

rises toward midnight, and is in the constellation Virgo, where he may

be seen to the greatest possible advantage, being in perigee. Mars is

most like the earth of all the planetary bodies. He revolves on his axis

in a little over twenty-four hours, and his surface is pleasantly

variegated with land and water, pretty much like our own world--the

land, however, being in slight excess. He is, therefore, the most

interesting of all the heavenly bodies to the inhabitants of the earth.

Having all things in readiness, we directed the glass to the planet.

Alas, for all our calculations, the power was insufficient to clear away

the obscurity resulting from imperfect vision and short focus.

Swallowing the bitter disappointment, we hastily made arrangements for

another interview, with a telescope, and bade the family good night.

There is but one large telescope properly mounted in the city, and that

is the property and pride of its accomplished owner, J. P. Manrow, Esq.

We at once procured an interview with that gentleman, and it was agreed

that on Saturday evening the boy should be conveyed to his residence,

picturesquely situated on Russian Hill, commanding a magnificent view of

the Golden Gate and the ocean beyond.

At the appointed hour the boy, his parents and myself presented

ourselves at the door of that hospitable mansion. We were cordially

welcomed, and conducted without further parley into the lofty

observatory on the top of the house. In due time the magnificent tube

was presented at the planet, but it was discovered that the power it was

set for was too low. It was then gauged for 240,000 diameters, being the

full strength of the telescope, and the eye of the boy observer placed

at the eye-glass. One cry of joy, and unalloyed delight told the story!

Mars, and its mountains and seas, its rivers, vales, and estuaries, its

polar snow-caps and grassy plains--its inhabitants, palaces, ships,

villages and cities, were all revealed, as distinctly, clearly and

certainly, as the eye of Kit Carson, from the summits of the Sierra

Nevada range, beheld the stupendous panorama of the Sacramento Valley,

and the snow-clad summits of Mount Hood and Shasta Butte.

[Decoration]

[Decoration]

XII.

_THE EMERALD ISLE._

Chaos was ended. From its ruins rolled

The central Sun, poised on his throne of gold;

The changeful Moon, that floods the hollow dome

Of raven midnight with her silvery foam;

Vast constellations swarming all around,

In seas of azure, without line or bound,

And this green globe, rock-ribbed and mountain-crown'd.

The eye of God, before His hand had made

Man in His image, this wide realm surveyed;

O'er hill and valley, over stream and wood,

He glanced triumphant, and pronounced it "good."

But ere He formed old Adam and his bride,

He called a shining seraph to His side,

And pointing to our world, that gleamed afar,

And twinkled on creation's verge, a star,

Bade him float 'round this new and narrow span

And bring report if all were ripe for Man.

The angel spread his fluttering pinions fair,

And circled thrice the circumambient air;

Quick, then, as thought, he stood before the gate

Where cherubs burn, and minist'ring spirits wait.

Nor long he stood, for God beheld his plume,

Already tarnished by terrestrial gloom,

And beck'ning kindly to the flurried aid,

Said, "Speak your wish; if good, be it obeyed."

The seraph raised his gem-encircled hand,

Obeisance made, at heaven's august command,

And thus replied, in tones so bold and clear,

That angels turned and lent a listening ear:

"Lord of all systems, be they near or far,

Thrice have I circled 'round yon beauteous Star,

I've seen its mountains rise, its rivers roll,

Its oceans sweep majestic to each pole;

Its floors in mighty continents expand,

Or dwindle into specs of fairy-land;

Its prairies spread, its forests stretch in pride,

And all its valleys dazzle like a bride;

Hymns have I heard in all its winds and streams,

And beauty seen in all its rainbow gleams.

But whilst the LAND can boast of every gem

That sparkles in each seraph's diadem;

Whilst diamonds blaze 'neath dusk Golconda's skies,

And rubies bleed where Alps and Andes rise;

Whilst in Brazilian brooks the topaz shines,

And opals burn in California mines;

Whilst in the vales of Araby the Blest

The sapphire flames beside the amethyst:

The pauper Ocean sobs forever more,

Ungemm'd, unjeweled, on its wailing shore!"

"What wouldst thou do?" responded heaven's great King.

"Add music to the song the breakers sing!"

The strong-soul'd seraph cried, "I'd make yon sea

Rival in tone heaven's sweetest minstrelsy;

I'd plant within the ocean's bubbling tide

An island gem, of every sea the pride!

So bright in robes of ever-living green,

In breath so sweet, in features so serene,

Such crystal streams to course its valleys fair,

Such healthful gales to purify its air,

Such fertile soil, such ever-verdant trees,

Angels should name it 'EMERALD OF THE SEAS!'"

The seraph paused, and downward cast his eyes,

Whilst heav'nly hosts stood throbbing with surprise.

Again the Lord of all the realms above,

Supreme in might, but infinite in love,

With no harsh accent in His tones replied:

"Go, drop this Emerald in the envious tide!"

Quick as the lightning cleaves the concave blue,

The seraph seized the proffer'd gem, and flew

Until he reached the confines of the earth,

Still struggling in the throes of turbid birth;

And there, upon his self-sustaining wing,

Sat poised, and heard our globe her matins sing;

Beheld the sun traverse the arching sky,

The sister Moon walk forth in majesty;

Saw every constellation rise and roll

Athwart the heaven, or circle round the pole.

Nor did he move, until our spotted globe

Had donned for him her morn and evening robe;

Till on each land his critic eye was cast,

And every ocean rose, and heav'd, and pass'd;

Then, like some eagle pouncing on its prey,

He downward sail'd, through bellowing clouds and spray,

To where he saw the billows bounding free,

And dropped the gem within the stormy sea!

And would'st thou know, Chief of St. Patrick's band,

Where fell this jewel from the seraph's hand?

What ocean caught the world-enriching prize?

O! Child of Moina, homeward cast your eyes!

Lo! in the midst of wat'ry deserts wide,

Behold the EMERALD bursting through the tide,

And bearing on its ever vernal-sod

The monogram of seraph, and of God!

Its name, the sweetest human lips e'er sung,

First trembled on an angel's fervid tongue;

Then chimed Æolian on the evening air,

Lisped by an infant, in its mother prayer;

Next roared in war, with battle's flag unfurl'd;

Now, gemm'd with glory, gather'd through the world!

What name! Perfidious Albion, blush with shame:

It is thy sister's! ERIN IS THE NAME!

Once more the seraph stood before the throne

Of dread Omnipotence, pensive and alone.

"What hast thou done?" Heaven's Monarch sadly sigh'd.

"I dropped the jewel in the flashing tide,"

The seraph said; but saw with vision keen

A mightier angel stalk upon the scene,

Whose voice like grating thunder smote his ear

And taught his soul the mystery of fear.

"Because thy heart with impious pride did swell,

And dared make better what thy God made well;

Because thy hand did fling profanely down

On Earth a jewel wrenched from Heaven's bright crown,

The Isle which thine own fingers did create

Shall reap a blessing and a curse from fate!"

THE CURSE.

Far in the future, as the years roll on,

And all the pagan ages shall have flown;

When Christian virtues, flaming into light,

Shall save the world from superstition's night;

Erin, oppress'd, shall bite the tyrant's heel,

And for a thousand years enslaved shall kneel;

Her sons shall perish in the field and flood,

Her daughters starve in city, wold, and wood;

Her patriots, with their blood, the block shall stain,

Her matrons fly behind the Western main;

Harpies from Albion shall her strength consume,

And thorns and thistles in her gardens bloom.

But, curse of curses thine, O! fated land:

Traitors shall thrive where statesmen ought to stand!

THE BLESSING.

But past her heritage of woe and pain,

A far more blest millennium shall reign;

Seedlings of heroes shall her exiles be,

Where'er they find a home beyond the sea;

Bright paragons of beauty and of truth,

Her maidens all shall dazzle in their youth;

And when age comes, to dim the flashing eye,

Still gems of virtue shall they live, and die!

No braver race shall breathe beneath the sun

Than thine, O! Erin, ere the goal be won.

Wherever man shall battle for the right,

There shall thy sons fall thickest in the fight;

Wherever man shall perish to be free,

There shall thy martyrs foremost be!

And O! when thy redemption is at hand,

Soldiers shall swell thy ranks from every land!

Heroes shall flock in thousands to thy shore,

And swear thy soil is FREE FOREVERMORE!

Then shall thy harp be from the willow torn,

And in yon glitt'ring galaxy be borne!

Then shall the Emerald change its verdant crest,

And blaze a Star co-equal with the rest!

The sentence pass'd, the doomsman felt surprise,

For tears were streaming from the seraph's eyes.

"Weep not for Erin," once again he spoke,

"But for thyself, that did'st her doom provoke;

I bear a message, seraph, unto thee,

As unrelenting in its stern decree.

For endless years it is thy fate to stand,

The chosen guardian of the SHAMROCK land.

Three times, as ages wind their coils away,

Incarnate on yon Island shalt thou stray.

"First as a Saint, in majesty divine,

The world shall know thee by this potent sign:

From yonder soil, where pois'nous reptiles dwell,

Thy voice shall snake and slimy toad expel.

Next as a Martyr, pleading in her cause,

Thy blood shall flow to build up Albion's laws.

Last as a Prophet and a Bard combined,

Rebellion's fires shall mould thy patriot mind.

In that great day, when Briton's strength shall fail,

And all her glories shiver on the gale;

When winged chariots, rushing through the sky,

Shall drop their faggots, blazing as they fly,

Thy form shall tower, a hero 'midst the flames,

And add one more to Erin's deathless names!"

Exiles of Erin! gathered here in state,

Such is the story of your country's fate.

Six thousand years in strife have rolled away,

Since Erin sprang from billowy surf and spray;

In that drear lapse, her sons have never known

One ray of peace to gild her crimson zone.

Cast back your glance athwart the tide of years,

Behold each billow steeped with Erin's tears,

Inspect each drop that swells the mighty flood,

Its purple globules smoke with human blood!

Come with me now, and trace the seraph's path,

That has been trodden since his day of wrath.

Lo! in the year when Attila the Hun

Had half the world in terror overrun,

On Erin's shore there stood a noble youth,

The breath of honor and the torch of truth.

His was the tongue that taught the Celtic soul

Christ was its Saviour, Heaven was its goal!

His was the hand that drove subdued away,

The venom horde that lured but to betray;

His were the feet that sanctified the sod,

Erin redeemed, and gave her back to God!

The gray old Earth can boost no purer fame

Than that whose halos gild ST. PATRICK'S name!

Twelve times the centuries builded up their store

Of plots, rebellions, gibbets, tears and gore;

Twelve times centennial annivers'ries came,

To bless the seraph in St. Patrick's name.

In that long night of treach'ry and gloom,

How many myriads found a martyr's tomb!

Beside the waters of the dashing Rhone

In exile starved the bold and blind TYRONE.

Beneath the glamour of the tyrant's steel

Went out in gloom the soul of great O'NEILL.

What countless thousands, children of her loin,

Sank unanneal'd beneath the bitter Boyne!

What fathers fell, what mothers sued in vain,

In Tredah's walls, on Wexford's gory plain,

When Cromwell's shaven panders slaked their lust,

And Ireton's fiends despoiled the breathless dust!

Still came no seraph, incarnate in man,

To rescue Erin from the bandit clan.

Still sad and lone, she languished in her chains,

That clank'd in chorus o'er her martyrs' manes.

At length, when Freedom's struggle was begun

Across the seas, by conq'ring Washington,

When CURRAN thunder'd, and when GRATTAN spoke,

The guardian seraph from his slumber woke.

Then guilty Norbury from his vengeance fled,

FITZGERALD fought, and glorious WOLFE TONE bled.

Then EMMET rose, to start the battle-cry,

To strike, to plead, to threaten, and to die!

Immortal Emmet! happier in thy doom,

Though uninscrib'd remains thy seraph tomb,

Than the long line of Erin's scepter'd foes,

Whose bones in proud mausoleums repose;

More noble blood through Emmet's pulses rings

Than courses through ten thousand hearts of kings!

Thus has the seraph twice redeem'd his fate,

And roamed a mortal through this low estate;

Again obedient to divine command,

His final incarnation is at hand.

THE PROPHECY.

Scarce shall yon sun _five times_ renew the year,

Ere Erin's guardian Angel shall appear,

Not as a priest, in holy garb arrayed;

Not as a patriot, by his cause betray'd,

Shall he again assume a mortal guise,

And tread the earth, an exile from the skies.

But like the lightning from the welkin hurl'd,

His eye shall light, his step shall shake the world!

Ye sons of Erin! from your slumbers start!

Feel ye no vengeance burning in your heart?

Are ye but scions of degenerate slaves?

Shall tyrants spit upon your fathers' graves?

Is all the life-blood stagnant in your veins?

Love ye no music but the clank of chains?

Hear ye no voices ringing in the air,

That chant in chorus wild, _Prepare_, PREPARE!

Hark! on the winds there comes a prophet sound,--

The blood of Abel crying from the ground,--

Pealing in tones of thunder through the world,

"ARM! ARM! The Flag of Erin is unfurl'd!"

On some bold headland do I seem to stand,

And watch the billows breaking 'gainst the land;

Not in lone rollers do their waters poor,

But the vast ocean rushes to the shore.

So flock in millions sons of honest toil,

From ev'ry country, to their native soil;

Exiles of Erin, driven from her sod,

By foes of justice, mercy, man, and God!

Ærial chariots spread their snowy wings,

And drop torpedoes in the halls of kings.

On every breeze a thousand banners fly,

And Erin's seraph swells the battle-cry:--

"Strike! till the Unicorn shall lose the crown!

Strike! till the Eagle tears the Lion down!

Strike! till proud Albion bows her haughty head!

Strike! for the living and the martyr'd dead!

Strike! for the bones that fill your mothers' graves!

Strike! till your kindred are no longer slaves!

Strike! till fair Freedom on the world shall smile!

For God! for Truth! and FOR THE EMERALD ISLE!"

[Decoration]

[Decoration]

XIII.