Ned Sinton gazed at the scene before him with indescribable amazement!
He had often witnessed strange things in the course of his short though
chequered life, but he had never seen anything like this. Many a dream
of the most extravagant nature had surrounded his pillow with creatures
of curious form and scenes of magic beauty, but never before, either by
actual observation or in nightly vision, had Ned Sinton beheld a scene
so wonderful as that which now lay spread out before him.
Ned stood in the centre of a cavern of vast dimensions--so vast, and so
full of intense light, that instead of looking on it as a huge cave, he
felt disposed to regard it as a small world. The sides of this cavern
were made of pure gold, and the roof--far above his head--was spangled
all over with glittering points, like a starry sky. The ground, too,
and, in short, everything within the cave, was made of the same precious
metal. Thousands of stalactites hung from the roof like golden icicles.
Millions of delicate threads of the same material also depended from
the star-spangled vault, each thread having a golden ball at the end of
it, which, strange to say, was transparent, and permitted a bright
flame within to shine through, and shed a yellow lustre over
surrounding objects. All the edges, and angles, and points of the
irregularly-formed walls were of burnished gold, which reflected the
rays of these pendant lamps with dazzling brilliancy, while the broad
masses of the frosted walls shone with a subdued light. Magnificent
curtains of golden filigree fell in rich voluminous folds on the
pavement, half concealing several archways which led into smaller
caverns, similar to the large one. Altogether it was a scene of
luxurious richness and splendour that is utterly indescribable.
But the thing that amazed Ned Sinton most was, that the company of
well-dressed ladies and gentlemen who moved about in these splendid
halls, and ate golden ices, or listened to the exquisite strains of
music that floated on the atmosphere, were all as yellow as guineas!
Ned could by no means understand this. In order to convince himself
that there was no deception in the matter, he shook hands with several
of the people nearest to him, and found that they were cold and hard as
iron; although, to all appearance, they were soft and pliable, and could
evidently move about with perfect freedom.
Ned was very much puzzled indeed. One would have thought he must have
believed himself to be dreaming. Not a bit of it. He knew perfectly
well that he was wide-awake. In fact, a doubt upon that point never
crossed his mind for a moment. At length he resolved to ask the meaning
of it all, and, observing a stout old gentleman, with a bland smile on
his yellow countenance, in the act of taking a pinch of golden snuff
from a gold snuff-box, he advanced and accosted him.
"Pray, sir," began Ned, modestly, "may I take the liberty of asking you
what is the meaning of all this?"
"All what, sir?" inquired the old gentleman, in a deep metallic voice.
"This golden cave, with its wonderful lamps, and especially these golden
people; and--excuse me, sir, for remarking on the circumstance--you seem
to be _made of gold_ yourself. I have often heard the term applied to
extremely rich persons, but I really never expected to see a man who was
literally `worth his weight in gold.'"
The old gentleman laughed sarcastically at this sally, and took an
enormous pinch of gold-dust.
As he did not seem inclined to be communicative, however, Ned said
again, "What is the meaning of it all? can you explain what has done
it?"
Smiling blandly at his interrogator, this gentleman of precious metal
placed his head a little on one side, and tapped the lid of his
snuff-box, but said nothing. Then he suddenly exclaimed, at the full
pitch of his voice, "California, my boy! That's what's done it, Edward!
_California for ever_! Ned, hurrah!"
As the deep tones of his voice rang through the star-spangled vault, the
company took up the shout, and with "California for ever!" made the
cavern ring again. In the excess of their glee the gentlemen took off
their hats, and the ladies their wreaths and turbans, and threw them in
the air. As many of them failed to catch these portions of costume in
their descent, the clatter caused by their fall on the golden pavement
was very striking indeed.
"Come here, my lad," said the old gentleman, seizing Ned Sinton by the
arm, and laughing heartily as he dragged him towards an immense mirror
of burnished gold; "look at yourself there."
Ned looked, and started back with horror on observing that he himself
had been converted into gold. There could be no mistake whatever about
it. There he stood, staring at himself like a yellow statue. His
shooting-jacket was richly chased with alternate stripes of burnished
and frosted work; the buttons on his vest shone like stars; his
pantaloons were striped like the coat; his hair was a mass of
dishevelled filigree; and his hands, when, in the height of his horror,
he clasped them together, rang like a brass-founder's anvil.
For a few moments he stood before the mirror speechless. Then a feeling
of intense indignation unaccountably took possession of him, and he
turned fiercely on the old gentleman, exclaiming--
"_You_ have done this, sir! What do you mean by it? eh!"
"You're quite mistaken, Ned. I didn't do it. California has done it.
Ha! ha! my boy, you're done for! Smitten with the yellow fever, Neddy?
California for ever! See here--"
As he spoke, the old gentleman threw out one leg and both arms, and
began to twirl round, after the fashion of a peg-top, on one toe. At
first he revolved slowly, but gradually increased his speed, until no
part of him could be distinctly observed. Ned Sinton stood aghast.
Suddenly the old gentleman shot upwards like a rocket, but he did not
quit the ground; he merely elongated his body until his head stuck
against the roof of the cave. Then he ceased to revolve, and remained
in the form of a golden stalactite--his head surrounded by stars and his
toe resting on the ground!
While Ned stood rooted to the spot, turning the subject over in his
mind, and trying to find out by what process of chemical or mechanical
action so remarkable a transformation could have been accomplished, he
became aware that his uncle, old Mr Shirley, was standing in the middle
of the cave regarding him with a look of mingled sarcasm and pity. He
observed, too, that his uncle was not made of gold, like the people
around him, but was habited in a yeomanry uniform. Mr Shirley had been
a yeoman twenty years before his nephew was born. Since that time his
proportions had steadily increased, and he was now a man of very
considerable rotundity--so much so, that his old uniform fitted him with
excessive tightness; the coat would by no means button across his
capacious chest, and, being much too short, shewed a very undignified
amount of braces below it.
"Uncle!" exclaimed Ned Sinton, rushing up to his relative, "what _can_
be the meaning of all this? Everybody seems to be mad. I think you
must be mad yourself, to come here such a figure as that; and I'm quite
sure _I_ shall go mad if you don't explain it to me. What _does_ it all
mean?"
"California," replied Mr Shirley, becoming more sarcastic in expression
and less pitiful.
"Why, that's what everybody cries," exclaimed Ned, who was now driven
almost to desperation. "My dear uncle, do look like yourself and
exercise some of your wonted sagacity. Just glance round at the cave
and the company, all made of gold, and look at me--gold too, if not
pinchbeck, but I'm not a good-enough judge of metals to tell which.
What _has_ done it, uncle? _Do_ look in a better humour, and tell me
how it has happened."
"California," replied Mr Shirley.
"Yes, yes; I know that. California seems to be everything here. But
how has it come about? Why are _you_ here, and what has brought me
here?"
"California," repeated Mr Shirley.
"Uncle, I'll go deranged if you don't answer me. What do you mean?"
"California," reiterated Mr Shirley.
At the same moment a stout golden lady with a filigree turban shouted,
"for ever!" at the top of a very shrill voice, and immediately the
company took up the cry again, filling the cave with deafening sounds.
Ned Sinton gave one look of despair at his relative--then turned and
fled.
"Put him out," shouted the company. "Down with the intruder!"
Ned cast a single glance backward, and beheld the people pushing and
buffeting his uncle in a most unceremonious manner. His helmet was
knocked down over his eyes, and the coat--so much too small for him--was
rendered an easy fit by being ripped up behind to the neck. Ned could
not stand this. He was stout of limb and bold as a lion, although not
naturally addicted to fighting, so he turned suddenly round and flew to
the rescue. Plunging into the midst of the struggling mass of golden
creatures, Ned hit out right and left like a young Hercules, and his
blows rang upon their metal chests and noses like the sound of
sledge-hammers, but without any other effect.
Suddenly he experienced an acute sensation of pain, and--awoke to find
himself hammering the bed-post with bleeding knuckles, and his uncle
standing beside his bed chuckling immensely.
"O uncle," cried Ned, sitting up in his bed, and regarding his knuckles
with a perplexed expression of countenance, "I've had _such_ an
extraordinary dream!"
"Ay, Ned," interrupted his uncle, "and all about California, I'll be
bound."
"Why, how did you guess that?"
"It needs not a wizard to guess that, lad. I've observed that you have
read nothing in the newspapers for the last three months but the news
from the gold-diggings of California. Your mind has of late been
constantly running on that subject, and it is well-known that day-dreams
are often reproduced at night. Besides, I heard you shouting the word
in your sleep as I entered your room. Were you fighting with
gold-diggers, eh! or Indians?"
"Neither, uncle; but I was fighting with very strange beings, I assure
you, and--"
"Well, well," interrupted Mr Shirley, "never mind the dream just now;
we shall have it at some other time. I have important matters to talk
over with you, my boy. Morton has written to me. Get up and come down
as quickly as you can, and we'll discuss the matter over our breakfast."
As the door closed after the retreating form of his uncle, Edward Sinton
leaped out of bed and into his trousers. During his toilet he wondered
what matters of importance Mr Shirley could intend to discuss with him,
and felt half inclined to fear, from the grave expression of his uncle's
face when he spoke of it, that something of a disagreeable nature
awaited him. But these thoughts were intermingled with reminiscences of
the past night. His knuckles, too, kept constantly reminding him of his
strange encounter, and, do what he would, he could not banish from his
mind the curious incidents of that remarkable golden dream.