The House Of The Afternoon
For the most part, the House of the Afternoon was but a wing built
against a mansion wrought by the hand of Nature herself; a grotto
running into the side of the mountain. From high over the mouth of this
grotto, sloped a long arbor, supported by great blocks of stone, rudely
chiseled into the likeness of idols, each bearing a carved lizard on
its chest: a sergeant’s guard of the gods condescendingly doing duty as
posts.
From the grotto thus vestibuled, issued hilariously forth the most
considerable stream of the glen; which, seemingly overjoyed to find
daylight in Willamilla, sprang into the arbor with a cheery, white
bound. But its youthful enthusiasm was soon repressed; its waters being
caught in a large stone basin, scooped out of the natural rock; whence,
staid and decorous, they traversed sundry moats; at last meandering
away, to join floods with the streams trained to do service at the
other end of the vale.
Truant streams: the livelong day wending their loitering path to the
subterraneous outlet, flowing into which, they disappeared. But no
wonder they loitered; passing such ravishing landscapes. Thus with
life: man bounds out of night; runs and babbles in the sun; then
returns to his darkness again; though, peradventure, once more to
emerge.
But the grotto was not a mere outlet to the stream. Flowing through a
dark flume in the rock, on both sides it left a dry, elevated shelf, to
which you ascend from the arbor by three artificially-wrought steps,
sideways disposed, to avoid the spray of the rejoicing cataract.
Mounting these, and pursuing the edge of the flume, the grotto
gradually expands and heightens; your way lighted by rays in the inner
distance. At last you come to a lofty subterraneous dome, lit from
above by a cleft in the mountain; while full before you, in the
opposite wall, from a low, black arch, midway up, and inaccessible, the
stream, with a hollow ring and a dash, falls in a long, snowy column
into a bottomless pool, whence, after many an eddy and whirl, it
entered the flume, and away with a rush. Half hidden from view by an
overhanging brow of the rock, the white fall looked like the sheeted
ghost of the grotto.
Yet gallantly bedecked was the cave, as any old armorial hall hung
round with banners and arras. Streaming from the cleft, vines swung in
the air; or crawled along the rocks, wherever a tendril could be fixed.
High up, their leaves were green; but lower down, they were shriveled;
and dyed of many colors; and tattered and torn with much rustling; as
old banners again; sore raveled with much triumphing.
In the middle of this hall in the hill was incarcerated the stone image
of one Demi, the tutelar deity of Willamina. All green and oozy like a
stone under water, poor Demi looked as if sore harassed with sciatics
and lumbagos.
But he was cheered from aloft, by the promise of receiving a garland
all blooming on his crown; the Dryads sporting in the woodlands above,
forever peeping down the cleft, and essaying to drop him a coronal.
Now, the still, panting glen of Willamilla, nested so close by the
mountains, and a goodly green mark for the archer in the sun, would
have been almost untenable were it not for the grotto. Hereby, it
breathed the blessed breezes of Omi; a mountain promontory buttressing
the island to the east, receiving the cool stream of the upland Trades;
much pleasanter than the currents beneath.
At all times, even in the brooding noon-day, a gush of cool air came
hand-in-hand with the cool waters, that burst with a shout into the
palace of Donjalolo. And as, after first refreshing the king, as in
loyalty bound, the stream flowed at large through the glen, and bathed
its verdure; so, the blessed breezes of Omi, not only made pleasant the
House of the Afternoon; but finding ample outlet in its wide, open
front, blew forth upon the bosom of all Willamilla.
“Come let us take the air of Omi,” was a very common saying in the
glen. And the speaker would hie with his comrade toward the grotto; and
flinging himself on the turf, pass his hand through his locks, and
recline; making a joy and a business of breathing; for truly the
breezes of Omi were as air-wine to the lungs.
Yet was not this breeze over-cool; though at times the zephyrs grew
boisterous. Especially at the season of high sea, when the strong
Trades drawn down the cleft in the mountain, rushed forth from the
grotto with wonderful force. Crossing it then, you had much ado to keep
your robe on your back.
Thus much for the House of the Afternoon. Whither—after spending the
shady morning under the eastern cliffs of the glen—daily, at a certain
hour, Donjalolo in his palanquin was borne; there, finding new shades;
and there tarrying till evening; when again he was transported whence
he came: thereby anticipating the revolution of the sun. Thus dodging
day’s luminary through life, the prince hied to and fro in his
dominions; on his smooth, spotless brow Sol’s rays never shining.