PART VII. AUTHOR'S AFTERWORD

THE SMOKY GOD

OR

A VOYAGE TO THE INNER WORLD

"He is the God who sits in the center, on

the navel of the earth, and he is the interpreter

of religion to all mankind."--PLATO.

PART ONE. AUTHOR'S FOREWORD

I FEAR the seemingly incredible story which I am about to relate will be

regarded as the result of a distorted intellect superinduced, possibly,

by the glamour of unveiling a marvelous mystery, rather than a truthful

record of the unparalleled experiences related by one Olaf Jansen, whose

eloquent madness so appealed to my imagination that all thought of an

analytical criticism has been effectually dispelled.

Marco Polo will doubtless shift uneasily in his grave at the strange

story I am called upon to chronicle; a story as strange as a Munchausen

tale. It is also incongruous that I, a disbeliever, should be the one

to edit the story of Olaf Jansen, whose name is now for the first time

given to the world, yet who must hereafter rank as one of the notables

of earth.

I freely confess his statements admit of no rational analysis, but have

to do with the profound mystery concerning the frozen North that for

centuries has claimed the attention of scientists and laymen alike.

However much they are at variance with the cosmographical manuscripts of

the past, these plain statements may be relied upon as a record of the

things Olaf Jansen claims to have seen with his own eyes.

A hundred times I have asked myself whether it is possible that the

world's geography is incomplete, and that the startling narrative of

Olaf Jansen is predicated upon demonstrable facts. The reader may be

able to answer these queries to his own satisfaction, however far the

chronicler of this narrative may be from having reached a conviction.

Yet sometimes even I am at a loss to know whether I have been led away

from an abstract truth by the ignes fatui of a clever superstition, or

whether heretofore accepted facts are, after all, founded upon falsity.

It may be that the true home of Apollo was not at Delphi, but in that

older earth-center of which Plato speaks, where he says: "Apollo's

real home is among the Hyperboreans, in a land of perpetual life, where

mythology tells us two doves flying from the two opposite ends of the

world met in this fair region, the home of Apollo. Indeed, according

to Hecataeus, Leto, the mother of Apollo, was born on an island in the

Arctic Ocean far beyond the North Wind."

It is not my intention to attempt a discussion of the theogony of the

deities nor the cosmogony of the world. My simple duty is to enlighten

the world concerning a heretofore unknown portion of the universe, as it

was seen and described by the old Norseman, Olaf Jansen.

Interest in northern research is international. Eleven nations are

engaged in, or have contributed to, the perilous work of trying to solve

Earth's one remaining cosmological mystery.

There is a saying, ancient as the hills, that "truth is stranger than

fiction," and in a most startling manner has this axiom been brought

home to me within the last fortnight.

It was just two o'clock in the morning when I was aroused from a restful

sleep by the vigorous ringing of my door-bell. The untimely disturber

proved to be a messenger bearing a note, scrawled almost to the point

of illegibility, from an old Norseman by the name of Olaf Jansen. After

much deciphering, I made out the writing, which simply said: "Am ill

unto death. Come." The call was imperative, and I lost no time in making

ready to comply.

Perhaps I may as well explain here that Olaf Jansen, a man who quite

recently celebrated his ninety-fifth birthday, has for the last

half-dozen years been living alone in an unpretentious bungalow out

Glendale way, a short distance from the business district of Los

Angeles, California.

It was less than two years ago, while out walking one afternoon that

I was attracted by Olaf Jansen's house and its homelike surroundings,

toward its owner and occupant, whom I afterward came to know as a

believer in the ancient worship of Odin and Thor.

There was a gentleness in his face, and a kindly expression in the

keenly alert gray eyes of this man who had lived more than four-score

years and ten; and, withal, a sense of loneliness that appealed to my

sympathy. Slightly stooped, and with his hands clasped behind him, he

walked back and forth with slow and measured tread, that day when first

we met. I can hardly say what particular motive impelled me to pause

in my walk and engage him in conversation. He seemed pleased when I

complimented him on the attractiveness of his bungalow, and on the

well-tended vines and flowers clustering in profusion over its windows,

roof and wide piazza.

I soon discovered that my new acquaintance was no ordinary person, but

one profound and learned to a remarkable degree; a man who, in the later

years of his long life, had dug deeply into books and become strong in

the power of meditative silence.

I encouraged him to talk, and soon gathered that he had resided only six

or seven years in Southern California, but had passed the dozen years

prior in one of the middle Eastern states. Before that he had been a

fisherman off the coast of Norway, in the region of the Lofoden Islands,

from whence he had made trips still farther north to Spitzbergen and

even to Franz Josef Land.

When I started to take my leave, he seemed reluctant to have me go, and

asked me to come again. Although at the time I thought nothing of it,

I remember now that he made a peculiar remark as I extended my hand in

leave-taking. "You will come again?" he asked. "Yes, you will come again

some day. I am sure you will; and I shall show you my library and tell

you many things of which you have never dreamed, things so wonderful

that it may be you will not believe me."

I laughingly assured him that I would not only come again, but would be

ready to believe whatever he might choose to tell me of his travels and

adventures.

In the days that followed I became well acquainted with Olaf Jansen,

and, little by little, he told me his story, so marvelous, that its very

daring challenges reason and belief. The old Norseman always expressed

himself with so much earnestness and sincerity that I became enthralled

by his strange narrations.

Then came the messenger's call that night, and within the hour I was at

Olaf Jansen's bungalow.

He was very impatient at the long wait, although after being summoned I

had come immediately to his bedside.

"I must hasten," he exclaimed, while yet he held my hand in greeting.

"I have much to tell you that you know not, and I will trust no one but

you. I fully realize," he went on hurriedly, "that I shall not survive

the night. The time has come to join my fathers in the great sleep."

I adjusted the pillows to make him more comfortable, and assured him

I was glad to be able to serve him in any way possible, for I was

beginning to realize the seriousness of his condition.

The lateness of the hour, the stillness of the surroundings, the uncanny

feeling of being alone with the dying man, together with his weird

story, all combined to make my heart beat fast and loud with a feeling

for which I have no name. Indeed, there were many times that night by

the old Norseman's couch, and there have been many times since, when a

sensation rather than a conviction took possession of my very soul, and

I seemed not only to believe in, but actually see, the strange lands,

the strange people and the strange world of which he told, and to hear

the mighty orchestral chorus of a thousand lusty voices.

For over two hours he seemed endowed with almost superhuman strength,

talking rapidly, and to all appearances, rationally. Finally he gave

into my hands certain data, drawings and crude maps. "These," said he in

conclusion, "I leave in your hands. If I can have your promise to give

them to the world, I shall die happy, because I desire that people may

know the truth, for then all mystery concerning the frozen Northland

will be explained. There is no chance of your suffering the fate

I suffered. They will not put you in irons, nor confine you in a

mad-house, because you are not telling your own story, but mine, and I,

thanks to the gods, Odin and Thor, will be in my grave, and so beyond

the reach of disbelievers who would persecute."

Without a thought of the farreaching results the promise entailed, or

foreseeing the many sleepless nights which the obligation has since

brought me, I gave my hand and with it a pledge to discharge faithfully

his dying wish.

As the sun rose over the peaks of the San Jacinto, far to the eastward,

the spirit of Olaf Jansen, the navigator, the explorer and worshiper of

Odin and Thor, the man whose experiences and travels, as related, are

without a parallel in all the world's history, passed away, and I was

left alone with the dead.

And now, after having paid the last sad rites to this strange man

from the Lofoden Islands, and the still farther "Northward Ho!", the

courageous explorer of frozen regions, who in his declining years (after

he had passed the four-score mark) had sought an asylum of restful peace

in sun-favored California, I will undertake to make public his story.

But, first of all, let me indulge in one or two reflections:

Generation follows generation, and the traditions from the misty past

are handed down from sire to son, but for some strange reason interest

in the ice-locked unknown does not abate with the receding years, either

in the minds of the ignorant or the tutored.

With each new generation a restless impulse stirs the hearts of men to

capture the veiled citadel of the Arctic, the circle of silence, the

land of glaciers, cold wastes of waters and winds that are strangely

warm. Increasing interest is manifested in the mountainous icebergs, and

marvelous speculations are indulged in concerning the earth's center of

gravity, the cradle of the tides, where the whales have their nurseries,

where the magnetic needle goes mad, where the Aurora Borealis illumines

the night, and where brave and courageous spirits of every generation

dare to venture and explore, defying the dangers of the "Farthest

North."

One of the ablest works of recent years is "Paradise Found, or the

Cradle of The Human Race at the North Pole," by William F. Warren. In

his carefully prepared volume, Mr. Warren almost stubbed his toe against

the real truth, but missed it seemingly by only a hair's breadth, if the

old Norseman's revelation be true.

Dr. Orville Livingston Leech, scientist, in a recent article, says:

"The possibilities of a land inside the earth were first brought to my

attention when I picked up a geode on the shores of the Great Lakes.

The geode is a spherical and apparently solid stone, but when broken is

found to be hollow and coated with crystals. The earth is only a larger

form of a geode, and the law that created the geode in its hollow form

undoubtedly fashioned the earth in the same way."

In presenting the theme of this almost incredible story, as told by

Olaf Jansen, and supplemented by manuscript, maps and crude drawings

entrusted to me, a fitting introduction is found in the following

quotation:

"In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth, and the earth

was without form and void." And also, "God created man in his own

image." Therefore, even in things material, man must be God-like,

because he is created in the likeness of the Father.

A man builds a house for himself and family. The porches or verandas are

all without, and are secondary. The building is really constructed for

the conveniences within.

Olaf Jansen makes the startling announcement through me, an humble

instrument, that in like manner, God created the earth for the

"within"--that is to say, for its lands, seas, rivers, mountains,

forests and valleys, and for its other internal conveniences, while the

outside surface of the earth is merely the veranda, the porch, where

things grow by comparison but sparsely, like the lichen on the mountain

side, clinging determinedly for bare existence.

Take an egg-shell, and from each end break out a piece as large as

the end of this pencil. Extract its contents, and then you will have

a perfect representation of Olaf Jansen's earth. The distance from the

inside surface to the outside surface, according to him, is about three

hundred miles. The center of gravity is not in the center of the earth,

but in the center of the shell or crust; therefore, if the thickness of

the earth's crust or shell is three hundred miles, the center of gravity

is one hundred and fifty miles below the surface.

In their log-books Arctic explorers tell us of the dipping of the needle

as the vessel sails in regions of the farthest north known. In reality,

they are at the curve; on the edge of the shell, where gravity is

geometrically increased, and while the electric current seemingly dashes

off into space toward the phantom idea of the North Pole, yet this same

electric current drops again and continues its course southward along

the inside surface of the earth's crust.

In the appendix to his work, Captain Sabine gives an account of

experiments to determine the acceleration of the pendulum in different

latitudes. This appears to have resulted from the joint labor of Peary

and Sabine. He says: "The accidental discovery that a pendulum on being

removed from Paris to the neighborhood of the equator increased its

time of vibration, gave the first step to our present knowledge that the

polar axis of the globe is less than the equatorial; that the force of

gravity at the surface of the earth increases progressively from the

equator toward the poles."

According to Olaf Jansen, in the beginning this old world of ours was

created solely for the "within" world, where are located the four great

rivers--the Euphrates, the Pison, the Gihon and the Hiddekel. These same

names of rivers, when applied to streams on the "outside" surface of

the earth, are purely traditional from an antiquity beyond the memory of

man.

On the top of a high mountain, near the fountain-head of these four

rivers, Olaf Jansen, the Norseman, claims to have discovered the

long-lost "Garden of Eden," the veritable navel of the earth, and to

have spent over two years studying and reconnoitering in this marvelous

"within" land, exuberant with stupendous plant life and abounding in

giant animals; a land where the people live to be centuries old, after

the order of Methuselah and other Biblical characters; a region where

one-quarter of the "inner" surface is water and three-quarters land;

where there are large oceans and many rivers and lakes; where the

cities are superlative in construction and magnificence; where modes

of transportation are as far in advance of ours as we with our boasted

achievements are in advance of the inhabitants of "darkest Africa."

The distance directly across the space from inner surface to inner

surface is about six hundred miles less than the recognized diameter of

the earth. In the identical center of this vast vacuum is the seat of

electricity--a mammoth ball of dull red fire--not startlingly brilliant,

but surrounded by a white, mild, luminous cloud, giving out uniform

warmth, and held in its place in the center of this internal space by

the immutable law of gravitation. This electrical cloud is known to the

people "within" as the abode of "The Smoky God." They believe it to be

the throne of "The Most High."

Olaf Jansen reminded me of how, in the old college days, we were all

familiar with the laboratory demonstrations of centrifugal motion, which

clearly proved that, if the earth were a solid, the rapidity of its

revolution upon its axis would tear it into a thousand fragments.

The old Norseman also maintained that from the farthest points of land

on the islands of Spitzbergen and Franz Josef Land, flocks of geese may

be seen annually flying still farther northward, just as the sailors and

explorers record in their log-books. No scientist has yet been audacious

enough to attempt to explain, even to his own satisfaction, toward what

lands these winged fowls are guided by their subtle instinct. However,

Olaf Jansen has given us a most reasonable explanation.

The presence of the open sea in the Northland is also explained. Olaf

Jansen claims that the northern aperture, intake or hole, so to speak,

is about fourteen hundred miles across. In connection with this, let us

read what Explorer Nansen writes, on page 288 of his book: "I have never

had such a splendid sail. On to the north, steadily north, with a good

wind, as fast as steam and sail can take us, an open sea mile after

mile, watch after watch, through these unknown regions, always clearer

and clearer of ice, one might almost say: 'How long will it last?' The

eye always turns to the northward as one paces the bridge. It is gazing

into the future. But there is always the same dark sky ahead which means

open sea." Again, the Norwood Review of England, in its issue of May

10, 1884, says: "We do not admit that there is ice up to the Pole--once

inside the great ice barrier, a new world breaks upon the explorer, the

climate is mild like that of England, and, afterward, balmy as the Greek

Isles."

Some of the rivers "within," Olaf Jansen claims, are larger than our

Mississippi and Amazon rivers combined, in point of volume of water

carried; indeed their greatness is occasioned by their width and depth

rather than their length, and it is at the mouths of these mighty

rivers, as they flow northward and southward along the inside surface

of the earth, that mammoth icebergs are found, some of them fifteen and

twenty miles wide and from forty to one hundred miles in length.

Is it not strange that there has never been an iceberg encountered

either in the Arctic or Antarctic Ocean that is not composed of fresh

water? Modern scientists claim that freezing eliminates the salt, but

Olaf Jansen claims differently.

Ancient Hindoo, Japanese and Chinese writings, as well as the

hieroglyphics of the extinct races of the North American continent,

all speak of the custom of sun-worshiping, and it is possible, in the

startling light of Olaf Jansen's revelations, that the people of the

inner world, lured away by glimpses of the sun as it shone upon the

inner surface of the earth, either from the northern or the southern

opening, became dissatisfied with "The Smoky God," the great pillar or

mother cloud of electricity, and, weary of their continuously mild and

pleasant atmosphere, followed the brighter light, and were finally led

beyond the ice belt and scattered over the "outer" surface of the earth,

through Asia, Europe, North America and, later, Africa, Australia and

South America. (1)

(1 The following quotation is significant; "It follows that man

issuing from a mother-region still undetermined but which a number

of considerations indicate to have been in the North, has radiated in

several directions; that his migrations have been constantly from North

to South."--M. le Marquis G. de Saporta, in Popular Science Monthly,

October, 1883, page 753.)

It is a notable fact that, as we approach the Equator, the stature of

the human race grows less. But the Patagonians of South America are

probably the only aborigines from the center of the earth who came out

through the aperture usually designated as the South Pole, and they are

called the giant race.

Olaf Jansen avers that, in the beginning, the world was created by

the Great Architect of the Universe, so that man might dwell upon

its "inside" surface, which has ever since been the habitation of the

"chosen."

They who were driven out of the "Garden of Eden" brought their

traditional history with them.

The history of the people living "within" contains a narrative

suggesting the story of Noah and the ark with which we are familiar. He

sailed away, as did Columbus, from a certain port, to a strange land

he had heard of far to the northward, carrying with him all manner

of beasts of the fields and fowls of the air, but was never heard of

afterward.

On the northern boundaries of Alaska, and still more frequently on

the Siberian coast, are found boneyards containing tusks of ivory in

quantities so great as to suggest the burying-places of antiquity. From

Olaf Jansen's account, they have come from the great prolific animal

life that abounds in the fields and forests and on the banks of numerous

rivers of the Inner World. The materials were caught in the ocean

currents, or were carried on ice-floes, and have accumulated like

driftwood on the Siberian coast. This has been going on for ages, and

hence these mysterious bone-yards.

On this subject William F. Warren, in his book already cited, pages 297

and 298, says: "The Arctic rocks tell of a lost Atlantis more wonderful

than Plato's. The fossil ivory beds of Siberia excel everything of

the kind in the world. From the days of Pliny, at least, they have

constantly been undergoing exploitation, and still they are the chief

headquarters of supply. The remains of mammoths are so abundant that, as

Gratacap says, 'the northern islands of Siberia seem built up of crowded

bones.' Another scientific writer, speaking of the islands of New

Siberia, northward of the mouth of the River Lena, uses this language:

'Large quantities of ivory are dug out of the ground every year. Indeed,

some of the islands are believed to be nothing but an accumulation of

drift-timber and the bodies of mammoths and other antediluvian animals

frozen together.' From this we may infer that, during the years that

have elapsed since the Russian conquest of Siberia, useful tusks from

more than twenty thousand mammoths have been collected."

But now for the story of Olaf Jansen. I give it in detail, as set down

by himself in manuscript, and woven into the tale, just as he placed

them, are certain quotations from recent works on Arctic exploration,

showing how carefully the old Norseman compared with his own experiences

those of other voyagers to the frozen North. Thus wrote the disciple of

Odin and Thor:

PART TWO. OLAF JANSEN'S STORY

MY name is Olaf Jansen. I am a Norwegian, although I was born in the

little seafaring Russian town of Uleaborg, on the eastern coast of the

Gulf of Bothnia, the northern arm of the Baltic Sea.

My parents were on a fishing cruise in the Gulf of Bothnia, and put

into this Russian town of Uleaborg at the time of my birth, being the

twenty-seventh day of October, 1811.

My father, Jens Jansen, was born at Rodwig on the Scandinavian coast,

near the Lofoden Islands, but after marrying made his home at Stockholm,

because my mother's people resided in that city. When seven years old,

I began going with my father on his fishing trips along the Scandinavian

coast.

Early in life I displayed an aptitude for books, and at the age of nine

years was placed in a private school in Stockholm, remaining there until

I was fourteen. After this I made regular trips with my father on all

his fishing voyages.

My father was a man fully six feet three in height, and weighed over

fifteen stone, a typical Norseman of the most rugged sort, and capable

of more endurance than any other man I have ever known. He possessed the

gentleness of a woman in tender little ways, yet his determination and

will-power were beyond description. His will admitted of no defeat.

I was in my nineteenth year when we started on what proved to be our

last trip as fishermen, and which resulted in the strange story that

shall be given to the world,--but not until I have finished my earthly

pilgrimage.

I dare not allow the facts as I know them to be published while I am

living, for fear of further humiliation, confinement and suffering.

First of all, I was put in irons by the captain of the whaling vessel

that rescued me, for no other reason than that I told the truth about

the marvelous discoveries made by my father and myself. But this was far

from being the end of my tortures.

After four years and eight months' absence I reached Stockholm, only to

find my mother had died the previous year, and the property left by my

parents in the possession of my mother's people, but it was at once made

over to me.

All might have been well, had I erased from my memory the story of our

adventure and of my father's terrible death.

Finally, one day I told the story in detail to my uncle, Gustaf

Osterlind, a man of considerable property, and urged him to fit out an

expedition for me to make another voyage to the strange land.

At first I thought he favored my project. He seemed interested, and

invited me to go before certain officials and explain to them, as I

had to him, the story of our travels and discoveries. Imagine my

disappointment and horror when, upon the conclusion of my narrative,

certain papers were signed by my uncle, and, without warning, I found

myself arrested and hurried away to dismal and fearful confinement in

a madhouse, where I remained for twenty-eight years--long, tedious,

frightful years of suffering!

I never ceased to assert my sanity, and to protest against the injustice

of my confinement. Finally, on the seventeenth of October, 1862, I

was released. My uncle was dead, and the friends of my youth were now

strangers. Indeed, a man over fifty years old, whose only known record

is that of a madman, has no friends.

I was at a loss to know what to do for a living, but instinctively

turned toward the harbor where fishing boats in great numbers were

anchored, and within a week I had shipped with a fisherman by the name

of Yan Hansen, who was starting on a long fishing cruise to the Lofoden

Islands.

Here my earlier years of training proved of the very greatest advantage,

especially in enabling me to make myself useful. This was but the

beginning of other trips, and by frugal economy I was, in a few years,

able to own a fishing-brig of my own. For twenty-seven years thereafter

I followed the sea as a fisherman, five years working for others, and

the last twenty-two for myself.

During all these years I was a most diligent student of books, as well

as a hard worker at my business, but I took great care not to mention

to anyone the story concerning the discoveries made by my father and

myself. Even at this late day I would be fearful of having any one see

or know the things I am writing, and the records and maps I have in

my keeping. When my days on earth are finished, I shall leave maps and

records that will enlighten and, I hope, benefit mankind.

The memory of my long confinement with maniacs, and all the horrible

anguish and sufferings are too vivid to warrant my taking further

chances.

In 1889 I sold out my fishing boats, and found I had accumulated a

fortune quite sufficient to keep me the remainder of my life. I then

came to America.

For a dozen years my home was in Illinois, near Batavia, where I

gathered most of the books in my present library, though I brought many

choice volumes from Stockholm. Later, I came to Los Angeles, arriving

here March 4, 1901. The date I well remember, as it was President

McKinley's second inauguration day. I bought this humble home and

determined, here in the privacy of my own abode, sheltered by my own

vine and fig-tree, and with my books about me, to make maps and drawings

of the new lands we had discovered, and also to write the story in

detail from the time my father and I left Stockholm until the tragic

event that parted us in the Antarctic Ocean.

I well remember that we left Stockholm in our fishing-sloop on the third

day of April, 1829, and sailed to the southward, leaving Gothland

Island to the left and Oeland Island to the right. A few days later we

succeeded in doubling Sandhommar Point, and made our way through the

sound which separates Denmark from the Scandinavian coast. In due time

we put in at the town of Christiansand, where we rested two days, and

then started around the Scandinavian coast to the westward, bound for

the Lofoden Islands.

My father was in high spirit, because of the excellent and gratifying

returns he had received from our last catch by marketing at Stockholm,

instead of selling at one of the seafaring towns along the Scandinavian

coast. He was especially pleased with the sale of some ivory tusks that

he had found on the west coast of Franz Joseph Land during one of his

northern cruises the previous year, and he expressed the hope that this

time we might again be fortunate enough to load our little fishing-sloop

with ivory, instead of cod, herring, mackerel and salmon.

We put in at Hammerfest, latitude seventy-one degrees and forty minutes,

for a few days' rest. Here we remained one week, laying in an extra

supply of provisions and several casks of drinking-water, and then

sailed toward Spitzbergen.

For the first few days we had an open sea and a favoring wind, and then

we encountered much ice and many icebergs. A vessel larger than our

little fishing-sloop could not possibly have threaded its way among

the labyrinth of icebergs or squeezed through the barely open channels.

These monster bergs presented an endless succession of crystal

palaces, of massive cathedrals and fantastic mountain ranges, grim and

sentinel-like, immovable as some towering cliff of solid rock, standing;

silent as a sphinx, resisting the restless waves of a fretful sea.

After many narrow escapes, we arrived at Spitzbergen on the 23d of

June, and anchored at Wijade Bay for a short time, where we were quite

successful in our catches. We then lifted anchor and sailed through the

Hinlopen Strait, and coasted along the North-East-Land.(2)

(2 It will be remembered that Andree started on his fatal balloon voyage

from the northwest coast of Spitzbergen.)

A strong wind came up from the southwest, and my father said that we had

better take advantage of it and try to reach Franz Josef Land, where,

the year before he had, by accident, found the ivory tusks that had

brought him such a good price at Stockholm.

Never, before or since, have I seen so many sea-fowl; they were so

numerous that they hid the rocks on the coast line and darkened the sky.

For several days we sailed along the rocky coast of Franz Josef Land.

Finally, a favoring wind came up that enabled us to make the West Coast,

and, after sailing twenty-four hours, we came to a beautiful inlet.

One could hardly believe it was the far Northland. The place was green

with growing vegetation, and while the area did not comprise more than

one or two acres, yet the air was warm and tranquil. It seemed to be at

that point where the Gulf Stream's influence is most keenly felt.(3)

(3 Sir John Barrow, Bart., F.R.S., in his work entitled "Voyages of

Discovery and Research Within the Arctic Regions," says on page 57:

"Mr. Beechey refers to what has frequently been found and noticed--the

mildness of the temperature on the western coast of Spitzbergen, there

being little or no sensation of cold, though the thermometer might be

only a few degrees above the freezing-point. The brilliant and lively

effect of a clear day, when the sun shines forth with a pure sky, whose

azure hue is so intense as to find no parallel even in the boasted

Italian sky.")

On the east coast there were numerous icebergs, yet here we were in open

water. Far to the west of us, however, were icepacks, and still farther

to the westward the ice appeared like ranges of low hills. In front of

us, and directly to the north, lay an open sea.(4)

(4 Captain Kane, on page 299, quoting from Morton's Journal on Monday,

the 26th of December, says: "As far as I could see, the open passages

were fifteen miles or more wide, with sometimes mashed ice separating

them. But it is all small ice, and I think it either drives out to the

open space to the north or rots and sinks, as I could see none ahead to

the north.")

My father was an ardent believer in Odin and Thor, and had frequently

told me they were gods who came from far beyond the "North Wind."

There was a tradition, my father explained, that still farther northward

was a land more beautiful than any that mortal man had ever known, and

that it was inhabited by the "Chosen."(5)

(5 We find the following in "Deutsche Mythologie," page 778, from the

pen of Jakob Grimm; "Then, the sons of Bor built in the middle of the

universe the city called Asgard, where dwell the gods and their kindred,

and from that abode work out so many wondrous things both on the earth

and in the heavens above it. There is in that city a place called

Illidskjalf, and when Odin is seated there upon his lofty throne he sees

over the whole world and discerns all the actions of men.")

My youthful imagination was fired by the ardor, zeal and religious

fervor of my good father, and I exclaimed: "Why not sail to this goodly

land? The sky is fair, the wind favorable and the sea open."

Even now I can see the expression of pleasurable surprise on his

countenance as he turned toward me and asked: "My son, are you

willing to go with me and explore--to go far beyond where man has ever

ventured?" I answered affirmatively. "Very well," he replied. "May the

god Odin protect us!" and, quickly adjusting the sails, he glanced at

our compass, turned the prow in due northerly direction through an open

channel, and our voyage had begun.(6)

(6 Hall writes, on page 288: "On the 23rd of January the two Esquimaux,

accompanied by two of the seamen, went to Cape Lupton. They reported a

sea of open water extending as far as the eye could reach.")

The sun was low in the horizon, as it was still the early summer.

Indeed, we had almost four months of day ahead of us before the frozen

night could come on again.

Our little fishing-sloop sprang forward as if eager as ourselves for

adventure. Within thirty-six hours we were out of sight of the highest

point on the coast line of Franz Josef Land. We seemed to be in a

strong current running north by northeast. Far to the right and to the

left of us were icebergs, but our little sloop bore down on the narrows

and passed through channels and out into open seas--channels so narrow

in places that, had our craft been other than small, we never could have

gotten through.

On the third day we came to an island. Its shores were washed by an open

sea. My father determined to land and explore for a day. This new land

was destitute of timber, but we found a large accumulation of drift-wood

on the northern shore. Some of the trunks of the trees were forty feet

long and two feet in diameter.(7)

(7 Greely tells us in vol. 1, page 100, that: "Privates Connell and

Frederick found a large coniferous tree on the beach, just above the

extreme high-water mark. It was nearly thirty inches in circumference,

some thirty feet long, and had apparently been carried to that point

by a current within a couple of years. A portion of it was cut up for

fire-wood, and for the first time in that valley, a bright, cheery

camp-fire gave comfort to man.")

After one day's exploration of the coast line of this island, we lifted

anchor and turned our prow to the north in an open sea.(8)

(8 Dr. Kane says, on page 379 of his works: "I cannot imagine what

becomes of the ice. A strong current sets in constantly to the north;

but, from altitudes of more than five hundred feet, I saw only narrow

strips of ice, with great spaces of open water, from ten to fifteen

miles in breadth, between them. It must, therefore, either go to an open

space in the north, or dissolve.")

I remember that neither my father nor myself had tasted food for almost

thirty hours. Perhaps this was because of the tension of excitement

about our strange voyage in waters farther north, my father said, than

anyone had ever before been. Active mentality had dulled the demands of

the physical needs.

Instead of the cold being intense as we had anticipated, it was really

warmer and more pleasant than it had been while in Hammerfest on the

north coast of Norway, some six weeks before.(9)

(9 Captain Peary's second voyage relates another circumstance which may

serve to confirm a conjecture which has long been maintained by some,

that an open sea, free of ice, exists at or near the Pole. "On the

second of November," says Peary, "the wind freshened up to a gale from

north by west, lowered the thermometer before midnight to 5 degrees,

whereas, a rise of wind at Melville Island was generally accompanied

by a simultaneous rise in the thermometer at low temperatures. May not

this," he asks, "be occasioned by the wind blowing over an open sea in

the quarter from which the wind blows? And tend to confirm the opinion

that at or near the Pole an open sea exists?")

We both frankly admitted that we were very hungry, and forthwith I

prepared a substantial meal from our well-stored larder. When we had

partaken heartily of the repast, I told my father I believed I would

sleep, as I was beginning to feel quite drowsy. "Very well," he replied,

"I will keep the watch."

I have no way to determine how long I slept; I only know that I was

rudely awakened by a terrible commotion of the sloop. To my surprise,

I found my father sleeping soundly. I cried out lustily to him, and

starting up, he sprang quickly to his feet. Indeed, had he not instantly

clutched the rail, he would certainly have been thrown into the seething

waves.

A fierce snow-storm was raging. The wind was directly astern, driving

our sloop at a terrific speed, and was threatening every moment to

capsize us. There was no time to lose, the sails had to be lowered

immediately. Our boat was writhing in convulsions. A few icebergs we

knew were on either side of us, but fortunately the channel was open

directly to the north. But would it remain so? In front of us, girding

the horizon from left to right, was a vaporish fog or mist, black as

Egyptian night at the water's edge, and white like a steam-cloud toward

the top, which was finally lost to view as it blended with the great

white flakes of falling snow. Whether it covered a treacherous iceberg,

or some other hidden obstacle against which our little sloop would dash

and send us to a watery grave, or was merely the phenomenon of an Arctic

fog, there was no way to determine.(10)

(10 On page 284 of his works, Hall writes: "From the top of Providence

Berg, a dark fog was seen to the north, indicating water. At 10 a. m.

three of the men (Kruger, Nindemann and Hobby) went to Cape Lupton to

ascertain if possible the extent of the open water. On their return they

reported several open spaces and much young ice--not more than a day

old, so thin that it was easily broken by throwing pieces of ice upon

it.")

By what miracle we escaped being dashed to utter destruction, I do not

know. I remember our little craft creaked and groaned, as if its joints

were breaking. It rocked and staggered to and fro as if clutched by some

fierce undertow of whirlpool or maelstrom.

Fortunately our compass had been fastened with long screws to a

crossbeam. Most of our provisions, however, were tumbled out and swept

away from the deck of the cuddy, and had we not taken the precaution at

the very beginning to tie ourselves firmly to the masts of the sloop, we

should have been swept into the lashing sea.

Above the deafening tumult of the raging waves, I heard my father's

voice. "Be courageous, my son," he shouted, "Odin is the god of the

waters, the companion of the brave, and he is with us. Fear not."

To me it seemed there was no possibility of our escaping a horrible

death. The little sloop was shipping water, the snow was falling so

fast as to be blinding, and the waves were tumbling over our counters in

reckless white-sprayed fury. There was no telling what instant we should

be dashed against some drifting ice-pack. The tremendous swells would

heave us up to the very peaks of mountainous waves, then plunge us

down into the depths of the sea's trough as if our fishing-sloop were a

fragile shell. Gigantic white-capped waves, like veritable walls, fenced

us in, fore and aft.

This terrible nerve-racking ordeal, with its nameless horrors of

suspense and agony of fear indescribable, continued for more than three

hours, and all the time we were being driven forward at fierce speed.

Then suddenly, as if growing weary of its frantic exertions, the wind

began to lessen its fury and by degrees to die down.

At last we were in a perfect calm. The fog mist had also disappeared,

and before us lay an iceless channel perhaps ten or fifteen miles

wide, with a few icebergs far away to our right, and an intermittent

archipelago of smaller ones to the left.

I watched my father closely, determined to remain silent until he spoke.

Presently he untied the rope from his waist and, without saying a word,

began working the pumps, which fortunately were not damaged, relieving

the sloop of the water it had shipped in the madness of the storm.

He put up the sloop's sails as calmly as if casting a fishing-net, and

then remarked that we were ready for a favoring wind when it came. His

courage and persistence were truly remarkable.

On investigation we found less than one-third of our provisions

remaining, while to our utter dismay, we discovered that our water-casks

had been swept overboard during the violent plungings of our boat.

Two of our water-casks were in the main hold, but both were empty. We

had a fair supply of food, but no fresh water. I realized at once the

awfulness of our position. Presently I was seized with a consuming

thirst. "It is indeed bad," remarked my father. "However, let us dry

our bedraggled clothing, for we are soaked to the skin. Trust to the god

Odin, my son. Do not give up hope."

The sun was beating down slantingly, as if we were in a southern

latitude, instead of in the far Northland. It was swinging around, its

orbit ever visible and rising higher and higher each day, frequently

mist-covered, yet always peering through the lacework of clouds

like some fretful eye of fate, guarding the mysterious Northland and

jealously watching the pranks of man. Far to our right the rays decking

the prisms of icebergs were gorgeous. Their reflections emitted flashes

of garnet, of diamond, of sapphire. A pyrotechnic panorama of countless

colors and shapes, while below could be seen the green-tinted sea, and

above, the purple sky.

PART THREE. BEYOND THE NORTH WIND

I TRIED to forget my thirst by busying myself with bringing up some food

and an empty vessel from the hold. Reaching over the side-rail, I filled

the vessel with water for the purpose of laving my hands and face. To my

astonishment, when the water came in contact with my lips, I could taste

no salt. I was startled by the discovery. "Father!" I fairly gasped,

"the water, the water; it is fresh!" "What, Olaf?" exclaimed my father,

glancing hastily around. "Surely you are mistaken. There is no land. You

are going mad." "But taste it!" I cried.

And thus we made the discovery that the water was indeed fresh,

absolutely so, without the least briny taste or even the suspicion of a

salty flavor.

We forthwith filled our two remaining water-casks, and my father

declared it was a heavenly dispensation of mercy from the gods Odin and

Thor.

We were almost beside ourselves with joy, but hunger bade us end our

enforced fast. Now that we had found fresh water in the open sea, what

might we not expect in this strange latitude where ship had never before

sailed and the splash of an oar had never been heard? (11)

(11 In vol. I, page 196, Nansen writes: "It is a peculiar

phenomenon,--this dead water. We had at present a better opportunity of

studying it than we desired. It occurs where a surface layer of fresh

water rests upon the salt water of the sea, and this fresh water is

carried along with the ship gliding on the heavier sea beneath it as if

on a fixed foundation. The difference between the two strata was in this

case so great that while we had drinking water on the surface, the water

we got from the bottom cock of the engine-room was far too salt to be

used for the boiler.")

We had scarcely appeased our hunger when a breeze began filling the

idle sails, and, glancing at the compass, we found the northern point

pressing hard against the glass.

In response to my surprise, my father said, "I have heard of this

before; it is what they call the dipping of the needle."

We loosened the compass and turned it at right angles with the surface

of the sea before its point would free itself from the glass and point

according to unmolested attraction. It shifted uneasily, and seemed as

unsteady as a drunken man, but finally pointed a course.

Before this we thought the wind was carrying us north by northwest, but,

with the needle free, we discovered, if it could be relied upon, that we

were sailing slightly north by northeast. Our course, however, was ever

tending northward.(12)

(12 In volume II, pages 18 and 19, Nansen writes about the inclination

of the needle. Speaking of Johnson, his aide: "One day--it was November

24--he came in to supper a little after six o'clock, quite alarmed,

and said: 'There has just been a singular inclination of the needle

in twenty-four degrees. And remarkably enough, its northern extremity

pointed to the east.'"

We again find in Peary's first voyage--page 67,--the following: "It had

been observed that from the moment they had entered Lancaster Sound, the

motion of the compass needle was very sluggish, and both this and its

deviation increased as they progressed to the westward, and continued to

do so in descending this inlet. Having reached latitude 73 degrees, they

witnessed for the first time the curious phenomenon of the directive

power of the needle becoming so weak as to be completely overcome by the

attraction of the ship, so that the needle might now be said to point to

the north pole of the ship.")

The sea was serenely smooth, with hardly a choppy wave, and the wind

brisk and exhilarating. The sun's rays, while striking us aslant,

furnished tranquil warmth. And thus time wore on day after day, and we

found from the record in our logbook, we had been sailing eleven days

since the storm in the open sea.

By strictest economy, our food was holding out fairly well, but

beginning to run low. In the meantime, one of our casks of water had

been exhausted, and my father said: "We will fill it again." But, to

our dismay, we found the water was now as salt as in the region of the

Lofoden Islands off the coast of Norway. This necessitated our being

extremely careful of the remaining cask.

I found myself wanting to sleep much of the time; whether it was the

effect of the exciting experience of sailing in unknown waters, or the

relaxation from the awful excitement incident to our adventure in a

storm at sea, or due to want of food, I could not say.

I frequently lay down on the bunker of our little sloop, and looked

far up into the blue dome of the sky; and, notwithstanding the sun was

shining far away in the east, I always saw a single star overhead. For

several days, when I looked for this star, it was always there directly

above us.

It was now, according to our reckoning, about the first of August. The

sun was high in the heavens, and was so bright that I could no longer

see the one lone star that attracted my attention a few days earlier.

One day about this time, my father startled me by calling my attention

to a novel sight far in front of us, almost at the horizon. "It is a

mock sun," exclaimed my father. "I have read of them; it is called a

reflection or mirage. It will soon pass away."

But this dull-red, false sun, as we supposed it to be, did not pass away

for several hours; and while we were unconscious of its emitting any

rays of light, still there was no time thereafter when we could not

sweep the horizon in front and locate the illumination of the so-called

false sun, during a period of at least twelve hours out of every

twenty-four.

Clouds and mists would at times almost, but never entirely, hide its

location. Gradually it seemed to climb higher in the horizon of the

uncertain purply sky as we advanced.

It could hardly be said to resemble the sun, except in its circular

shape, and when not obscured by clouds or the ocean mists, it had a

hazy-red, bronzed appearance, which would change to a white light like a

luminous cloud, as if reflecting some greater light beyond.

We finally agreed in our discussion of this smoky furnace-colored sun,

that, whatever the cause of the phenomenon, it was not a reflection of

our sun, but a planet of some sort--a reality.(13)

(13 Nansen, on page 394, says: "To-day another noteworthy thing

happened, which was that about mid-day we saw the sun, or to be more

correct, an image of the sun, for it was only a mirage. A peculiar

impression was produced by the sight of that glowing fire lit just

above the outermost edge of the ice. According to the enthusiastic

descriptions given by many Arctic travelers of the first appearance of

this god of life after the long winter night, the impression ought to

be one of jubilant excitement; but it was not so in my case. We had not

expected to see it for some days yet, so that my feeling was rather one

of pain, of disappointment that we must have drifted farther south than

we thought. So it was with pleasure I soon discovered that it could not

be the sun itself. The mirage was at first a flattened-out, glowing red,

streak of fire on the horizon; later there were two streaks, the one

above the other, with a dark space between; and from the maintop I could

see four, or even five, such horizontal lines directly over one another,

all of equal length, as if one could only imagine a square, dull-red

sun, with horizontal dark streaks across it.")

One day soon after this, I felt exceedingly drowsy, and fell into a

sound sleep. But it seemed that I was almost immediately aroused by

my father's vigorous shaking of me by the shoulder and saying: "Olaf,

awaken; there is land in sight!"

I sprang to my feet, and oh! joy unspeakable! There, far in the

distance, yet directly in our path, were lands jutting boldly into the

sea. The shore-line stretched far away to the right of us, as far as the

eye could see, and all along the sandy beach were waves breaking into

choppy foam, receding, then going forward again, ever chanting in

monotonous thunder tones the song of the deep. The banks were covered

with trees and vegetation.

I cannot express my feeling of exultation at this discovery. My father

stood motionless, with his hand on the tiller, looking straight ahead,

pouring out his heart in thankful prayer and thanksgiving to the gods

Odin and Thor.

In the meantime, a net which we found in the stowage had been cast, and

we caught a few fish that materially added to our dwindling stock of

provisions.

The compass, which we had fastened back in its place, in fear of another

storm, was still pointing due north, and moving on its pivot, just as it

had at Stockholm. The dipping of the needle had ceased. What could this

mean? Then, too, our many days of sailing had certainly carried us far

past the North Pole. And yet the needle continued to point north. We

were sorely perplexed, for surely our direction was now south.(14)

(14 Peary's first voyage, pages 69 and 70, says:

"On reaching Sir Byam Martin's Island, the nearest to

Melville Island, the latitude of the place of observation was

75 degrees - 09' - 23", and the longitude 103

degrees - 44' - 37"; the dip of the magnetic needle 88

degrees - 25' - 56" west in the longitude of 91

degrees - 48', where the last observations on the shore

had been made, to 165 degrees - 50' - 09", east, at

their present station, so that we had," says Peary, "in sailing

over the space included between these two meridians, crossed

immediately northward of the magnetic pole, and had undoubtedly

passed over one of those spots upon the globe where the needle

would have been found to vary 180 degrees, or in other

words, where the North Pole would have pointed to the south.")

We sailed for three days along the shoreline, then came to the mouth of

a fjord or river of immense size. It seemed more like a great bay, and

into this we turned our fishing-craft, the direction being slightly

northeast of south. By the assistance of a fretful wind that came to our

aid about twelve hours out of every twenty-four, we continued to make

our way inland, into what afterward proved to be a mighty river, and

which we learned was called by the inhabitants Hiddekel.

We continued our journey for ten days thereafter, and found we had

fortunately attained a distance inland where ocean tides no longer

affected the water, which had become fresh.

The discovery came none too soon, for our remaining cask of water was

well-nigh exhausted. We lost no time in replenishing our casks, and

continued to sail farther up the river when the wind was favorable.

Along the banks great forests miles in extent could be seen stretching

away on the shore-line. The trees were of enormous size. We landed after

anchoring near a sandy beach, and waded ashore, and were rewarded by

finding a quantity of nuts that were very palatable and satisfying

to hunger, and a welcome change from the monotony of our stock of

provisions.

It was about the first of September, over five months, we calculated,

since our leave-taking from Stockholm. Suddenly we were frightened

almost out of our wits by hearing in the far distance the singing of

people. Very soon thereafter we discovered a huge ship gliding down the

river directly toward us. Those aboard were singing in one mighty chorus

that, echoing from bank to bank, sounded like a thousand voices, filling

the whole universe with quivering melody. The accompaniment was played

on stringed instruments not unlike our harps.

It was a larger ship than any we had ever seen, and was differently

constructed.(15)

(15 Asiatic Mythology,--page 240, "Paradise found"--from translation

by Sayce, in a book called "Records of the Past," we were told of a

"dwelling" which "the gods created for" the first human beings,--a

dwelling in which they "became great" and "increased in numbers," and

the location of which is described in words exactly corresponding

to those of Iranian, Indian, Chinese, Eddaic and Aztecan literature;

namely, "in the center of the earth."--Warren.)

At this particular time our sloop was becalmed, and not far from the

shore. The bank of the river, covered with mammoth trees, rose up

several hundred feet in beautiful fashion. We seemed to be on the edge

of some primeval forest that doubtless stretched far inland.

The immense craft paused, and almost immediately a boat was lowered

and six men of gigantic stature rowed to our little fishing-sloop. They

spoke to us in a strange language. We knew from their manner,

however, that they were not unfriendly. They talked a great deal among

themselves, and one of them laughed immoderately, as though in finding

us a queer discovery had been made. One of them spied our compass, and

it seemed to interest them more than any other part of our sloop.

Finally, the leader motioned as if to ask whether we were willing to

leave our craft to go on board their ship. "What say you, my son?" asked

my father. "They cannot do any more than kill us."

"They seem to be kindly disposed," I replied, "although what terrible

giants! They must be the select six of the kingdom's crack regiment.

Just look at their great size."

"We may as well go willingly as be taken by force," said my father,

smiling, "for they are certainly able to capture us." Thereupon he made

known, by signs, that we were ready to accompany them.

Within a few minutes we were on board the ship, and half an hour later

our little fishing-craft had been lifted bodily out of the water by a

strange sort of hook and tackle, and set on board as a curiosity.

There were several hundred people on board this, to us, mammoth ship,

which we discovered was called "The Naz," meaning, as we afterward

learned, "Pleasure," or to give a more proper interpretation, "Pleasure

Excursion" ship.

If my father and I were curiously observed by the ship's occupants, this

strange race of giants offered us an equal amount of wonderment.

There was not a single man aboard who would not have measured fully

twelve feet in height. They all wore full beards, not particularly

long, but seemingly short-cropped. They had mild and beautiful faces,

exceedingly fair, with ruddy complexions. The hair and beard of some

were black, others sandy, and still others yellow. The captain, as we

designated the dignitary in command of the great vessel, was fully a

head taller than any of his companions. The women averaged from ten

to eleven feet in height. Their features were especially regular and

refined, while their complexion was of a most delicate tint heightened

by a healthful glow.(16)

(16 "According to all procurable data, that spot at the era of man's

appearance upon the stage was in the now lost 'Miocene continent,' which

then surrounded the Arctic Pole. That in that true, original Eden some

of the early generations of men attained to a stature and longevity

unequaled in any countries known to postdiluvian history is by no means

scientifically incredible."--Wm. F. Warren, "Paradise Found," p. 284.)

Both men and women seemed to possess that particular ease of manner

which we deem a sign of good breeding, and, notwithstanding their huge

statures, there was nothing about them suggesting awkwardness. As I was

a lad in only my nineteenth year, I was doubtless looked upon as a true

Tom Thumb. My father's six feet three did not lift the top of his head

above the waist line of these people.

Each one seemed to vie with the others in extending courtesies and

showing kindness to us, but all laughed heartily, I remember, when they

had to improvise chairs for my father and myself to sit at table.

They were richly attired in a costume peculiar to themselves, and very

attractive. The men were clothed in handsomely embroidered tunics of

silk and satin and belted at the waist. They wore knee-breeches and

stockings of a fine texture, while their feet were encased in sandals

adorned with gold buckles. We early discovered that gold was one of

the most common metals known, and that it was used extensively in

decoration.

Strange as it may seem, neither my father nor myself felt the least bit

of solicitude for our safety. "We have come into our own," my father

said to me. "This is the fulfillment of the tradition told me by my

father and my father's father, and still back for many generations of

our race. This is, assuredly, the land beyond the North Wind."

We seemed to make such an impression on the party that we were given

specially into the charge of one of the men, Jules Galdea, and his wife,

for the purpose of being educated in their language; and we, on our

part, were just as eager to learn as they were to instruct.

At the captain's command, the vessel was swung cleverly about, and began

retracing its course up the river. The machinery, while noiseless, was

very powerful.

The banks and trees on either side seemed to rush by. The ship's speed,

at times, surpassed that of any railroad train on which I have ever

ridden, even here in America. It was wonderful.

In the meantime we had lost sight of the sun's rays, but we found a

radiance "within" emanating from the dull-red sun which had already

attracted our attention, now giving out a white light seemingly from

a cloud-bank far away in front of us. It dispensed a greater light, I

should say, than two full moons on the clearest night.

In twelve hours this cloud of whiteness would pass out of sight as if

eclipsed, and the twelve hours following corresponded with our night.

We early learned that these strange people were worshipers of this great

cloud of night. It was "The Smoky God" of the "Inner World."

The ship was equipped with a mode of illumination which I now presume

was electricity, but neither my father nor myself were sufficiently

skilled in mechanics to understand whence came the power to operate the

ship, or to maintain the soft beautiful lights that answered the same

purpose of our present methods of lighting the streets of our cities,

our houses and places of business.

It must be remembered, the time of which I write was the autumn of 1829,

and we of the "outside" surface of the earth knew nothing then, so to

speak, of electricity.

The electrically surcharged condition of the air was a constant

vitalizer. I never felt better in my life than during the two years my

father and I sojourned on the inside of the earth.

To resume my narrative of events; The ship on which we were sailing came

to a stop two days after we had been taken on board. My father said as

nearly as he could judge, we were directly under Stockholm or London.

The city we had reached was called "Jehu," signifying a seaport town.

The houses were large and beautifully constructed, and quite uniform in

appearance, yet without sameness. The principal occupation of the people

appeared to be agriculture; the hillsides were covered with vineyards,

while the valleys were devoted to the growing of grain.

I never saw such a display of gold. It was everywhere. The door-casings

were inlaid and the tables were veneered with sheetings of gold. Domes

of the public buildings were of gold. It was used most generously in the

finishings of the great temples of music.

Vegetation grew in lavish exuberance, and fruit of all kinds possessed

the most delicate flavor. Clusters of grapes four and five feet in

length, each grape as large as an orange, and apples larger than a man's

head typified the wonderful growth of all things on the "inside" of the

earth.

The great redwood trees of California would be considered mere

underbrush compared with the giant forest trees extending for miles and

miles in all directions. In many directions along the foothills of the

mountains vast herds of cattle were seen during the last day of our

travel on the river.

We heard much of a city called "Eden," but were kept at "Jehu" for an

entire year. By the end of that time we had learned to speak fairly

well the language of this strange race of people. Our instructors, Jules

Galdea and his wife, exhibited a patience that was truly commendable.

One day an envoy from the Ruler at "Eden" came to see us, and for two

whole days my father and myself were put through a series of surprising

questions. They wished to know from whence we came, what sort of people

dwelt "without," what God we worshiped, our religious beliefs, the mode

of living in our strange land, and a thousand other things.

The compass which we had brought with us attracted especial attention.

My father and I commented between ourselves on the fact that the compass

still pointed north, although we now knew that we had sailed over the

curve or edge of the earth's aperture, and were far along southward

on the "inside" surface of the earth's crust, which, according to my

father's estimate and my own, is about three hundred miles in thickness

from the "inside" to the "outside" surface. Relatively speaking, it is

no thicker than an egg-shell, so that there is almost as much surface on

the "inside" as on the "outside" of the earth.

The great luminous cloud or ball of dull-red fire--fiery-red in the

mornings and evenings, and during the day giving off a beautiful white

light, "The Smoky God,"--is seemingly suspended in the center of the

great vacuum "within" the earth, and held to its place by the immutable

law of gravitation, or a repellant atmospheric force, as the case may

be. I refer to the known power that draws or repels with equal force in

all directions.

The base of this electrical cloud or central luminary, the seat of the

gods, is dark and non-transparent, save for innumerable small openings,

seemingly in the bottom of the great support or altar of the Deity, upon

which "The Smoky God" rests; and, the lights shining through these many

openings twinkle at night in all their splendor, and seem to be stars,

as natural as the stars we saw shining when in our home at Stockholm,

excepting that they appear larger. "The Smoky God," therefore, with each

daily revolution of the earth, appears to come up in the east and go

down in the west, the same as does our sun on the external surface. In

reality, the people "within" believe that "The Smoky God" is the throne

of their Jehovah, and is stationary. The effect of night and day is,

therefore, produced by the earth's daily rotation.

I have since discovered that the language of the people of the Inner

World is much like the Sanskrit.

After we had given an account of ourselves to the emissaries from the

central seat of government of the inner continent, and my father had, in

his crude way, drawn maps, at their request, of the "outside" surface of

the earth, showing the divisions of land and water, and giving the name

of each of the continents, large islands and the oceans, we were taken

overland to the city of "Eden," in a conveyance different from anything

we have in Europe or America. This vehicle was doubtless some electrical

contrivance. It was noiseless, and ran on a single iron rail in perfect

balance. The trip was made at a very high rate of speed. We were carried

up hills and down dales, across valleys and again along the sides of

steep mountains, without any apparent attempt having been made to level

the earth as we do for railroad tracks. The car seats were huge yet

comfortable affairs, and very high above the floor of the car. On the

top of each car were high geared fly wheels lying on their sides, which

were so automatically adjusted that, as the speed of the car increased,

the high speed of these fly wheels geometrically increased. Jules Galdea

explained to us that these revolving fan-like wheels on top of the cars

destroyed atmospheric pressure, or what is generally understood by

the term gravitation, and with this force thus destroyed or rendered

nugatory the car is as safe from falling to one side or the other from

the single rail track as if it were in a vacuum; the fly wheels in

their rapid revolutions destroying effectually the so-called power of

gravitation, or the force of atmospheric pressure or whatever potent

influence it may be that causes all unsupported things to fall downward

to the earth's surface or to the nearest point of resistance.

The surprise of my father and myself was indescribable when, amid the

regal magnificence of a spacious hall, we were finally brought before

the Great High Priest, ruler over all the land. He was richly robed,

and much taller than those about him, and could not have been less than

fourteen or fifteen feet in height. The immense room in which we were

received seemed finished in solid slabs of gold thickly studded with

jewels, of amazing brilliancy.

The city of "Eden" is located in what seems to be a beautiful valley,

yet, in fact, it is on the loftiest mountain plateau of the Inner

Continent, several thousand feet higher than any portion of the

surrounding country. It is the most beautiful place I have ever beheld

in all my travels. In this elevated garden all manner of fruits, vines,

shrubs, trees, and flowers grow in riotous profusion.

In this garden four rivers have their source in a mighty artesian

fountain. They divide and flow in four directions. This place is called

by the inhabitants the "navel of the earth," or the beginning, "the

cradle of the human race." The names of the rivers are the Euphrates,

the Pison, the Gihon, and the Hiddekel.(17)

(17 "And the Lord God planted a garden, and out of the ground made the

Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for

food."--The Book of Genesis.)

The unexpected awaited us in this palace of beauty, in the finding of

our little fishing-craft. It had been brought before the High Priest in

perfect shape, just as it had been taken from the waters that day when

it was loaded on board the ship by the people who discovered us on the

river more than a year before.

We were given an audience of over two hours with this great dignitary,

who seemed kindly disposed and considerate. He showed himself eagerly

interested, asking us numerous questions, and invariably regarding

things about which his emissaries had failed to inquire.

At the conclusion of the interview he inquired our pleasure, asking us

whether we wished to remain in his country or if we preferred to return

to the "outer" world, providing it were possible to make a successful

return trip, across the frozen belt barriers that encircle both the

northern and southern openings of the earth.

My father replied: "It would please me and my son to visit your country

and see your people, your colleges and palaces of music and art, your

great fields, your wonderful forests of timber; and after we have had

this pleasurable privilege, we should like to try to return to our home

on the 'outside' surface of the earth. This son is my only child, and my

good wife will be weary awaiting our return."

"I fear you can never return," replied the Chief High Priest, "because

the way is a most hazardous one. However, you shall visit the different

countries with Jules Galdea as your escort, and be accorded every

courtesy and kindness. Whenever you are ready to attempt a return

voyage, I assure you that your boat which is here on exhibition shall

be put in the waters of the river Hiddekel at its mouth, and we will bid

you Jehovah-speed."

Thus terminated our only interview with the High Priest or Ruler of the

continent.

PART FOUR

IN THE UNDER WORLD

WE learned that the males do not marry before they are from seventy-five

to one hundred years old, and that the age at which women enter wedlock

is only a little less, and that both men and women frequently live to

be from six to eight hundred years old, and in some instances much

older.(18)

(18 Josephus says: "God prolonged the life of the patriarchs that

preceded the deluge, both on account of their virtues and to give them

the opportunity of perfecting the sciences of geometry and astronomy,

which they had discovered; which they could not have done if they had

not lived 600 years, because it is only after the lapse of 600 years

that the great year is accomplished."--Flammarion, Astronomical Myths,

Paris p. 26.)

During the following year we visited many villages and towns, prominent

among them being the cities of Nigi, Delfi, Hectea, and my father was

called upon no less than a half-dozen times to go over the maps which

had been made from the rough sketches he had originally given of the

divisions of land and water on the "outside" surface of the earth.

I remember hearing my father remark that the giant race of people in the

land of "The Smoky God" had almost as accurate an idea of the geography

of the "outside" surface of the earth as had the average college

professor in Stockholm.

In our travels we came to a forest of gigantic trees, near the city of

Delfi. Had the Bible said there were trees towering over three hundred

feet in height, and more than thirty feet in diameter, growing in the

Garden of Eden, the Ingersolls, the Tom Paines and Voltaires would

doubtless have pronounced the statement a myth. Yet this is the

description of the California sequoia gigantea; but these California

giants pale into insignificance when compared with the forest Goliaths

found in the "within" continent, where abound mighty trees from eight

hundred to one thousand feet in height, and from one hundred to one

hundred and twenty feet in diameter; countless in numbers and forming

forests extending hundreds of miles back from the sea.

The people are exceedingly musical, and learned to a remarkable degree

in their arts and sciences, especially geometry and astronomy. Their

cities are equipped with vast palaces of music, where not infrequently

as many as twenty-five thousand lusty voices of this giant race swell

forth in mighty choruses of the most sublime symphonies.

The children are not supposed to attend institutions of learning before

they are twenty years old. Then their school life begins and continues

for thirty years, ten of which are uniformly devoted by both sexes to

the study of music.

Their principal vocations are architecture, agriculture, horticulture,

the raising of vast herds of cattle, and the building of conveyances

peculiar to that country, for travel on land and water. By some device

which I cannot explain, they hold communion with one another between the

most distant parts of their country, on air currents.

All buildings are erected with special regard to strength, durability,

beauty and symmetry, and with a style of architecture vastly more

attractive to the eye than any I have ever observed elsewhere.

About three-fourths of the "inner" surface of the earth is land and

about one-fourth water. There are numerous rivers of tremendous size,

some flowing in a northerly direction and others southerly. Some of

these rivers are thirty miles in width, and it is out of these vast

waterways, at the extreme northern and southern parts of the "inside"

surface of the earth, in regions where low temperatures are experienced,

that fresh-water icebergs are formed. They are then pushed out to sea

like huge tongues of ice, by the abnormal freshets of turbulent waters

that, twice every year, sweep everything before them.

We saw innumerable specimens of bird-life no larger than those

encountered in the forests of Europe or America. It is well known that

during the last few years whole species of birds have quit the earth. A

writer in a recent article on this subject says:(19)

(19 "Almost every year sees the final extinction of one or more bird

species. Out of fourteen varieties of birds found a century since on a

single island--the West Indian island of St. Thomas--eight have now to

be numbered among the missing.")

Is it not possible that these disappearing bird species quit their

habitation without, and find an asylum in the "within world"?

Whether inland among the mountains, or along the seashore, we found

bird life prolific. When they spread their great wings some of the

birds appeared to measure thirty feet from tip to tip. They are of great

variety and many colors. We were permitted to climb up on the edge of

a rock and examine a nest of eggs. There were five in the nest, each of

which was at least two feet in length and fifteen inches in diameter.

After we had been in the city of Hectea about a week, Professor Galdea

took us to an inlet, where we saw thousands of tortoises along the sandy

shore. I hesitate to state the size of these great creatures. They were

from twenty-five to thirty feet in length, from fifteen to twenty feet

in width and fully seven feet in height. When one of them projected its

head it had the appearance of some hideous sea monster.

The strange conditions "within" are favorable not only for vast

meadows of luxuriant grasses, forests of giant trees, and all manner of

vegetable life, but wonderful animal life as well.

One day we saw a great herd of elephants. There must have been five

hundred of these thunder-throated monsters, with their restlessly waving

trunks. They were tearing huge boughs from the trees and trampling

smaller growth into dust like so much hazel-brush. They would average

over 100 feet in length and from 75 to 85 in height.

It seemed, as I gazed upon this wonderful herd of giant elephants, that

I was again living in the public library at Stockholm, where I had spent

much time studying the wonders of the Miocene age. I was filled with

mute astonishment, and my father was speechless with awe. He held my arm

with a protecting grip, as if fearful harm would overtake us. We were

two atoms in this great forest, and, fortunately, unobserved by this

vast herd of elephants as they drifted on and away, following a leader

as does a herd of sheep. They browsed from growing herbage which they

encountered as they traveled, and now and again shook the firmament with

their deep bellowing.(20)

(20 "Moreover, there were a great number of elephants in the island: and

there was provision for animals of every kind. Also whatever fragrant

things there are in the earth, whether roots or herbage, or woods,

or distilling drops of flowers or fruits, grew and thrived in that

land."--The Cratylus of Plato.)

There is a hazy mist that goes up from the land each evening, and it

invariably rains once every twenty-four hours. This great moisture and

the invigorating electrical light and warmth account perhaps for the

luxuriant vegetation, while the highly charged electrical air and the

evenness of climatic conditions may have much to do with the giant

growth and longevity of all animal life.

In places the level valleys stretched away for many miles in every

direction. "The Smoky God," in its clear white light, looked calmly

down. There was an intoxication in the electrically surcharged air that

fanned the cheek as softly as a vanishing whisper. Nature chanted a

lullaby in the faint murmur of winds whose breath was sweet with the

fragrance of bud and blossom.

After having spent considerably more than a year in visiting several of

the many cities of the "within" world and a great deal of intervening

country, and more than two years had passed from the time we had been

picked up by the great excursion ship on the river, we decided to

cast our fortunes once more upon the sea, and endeavor to regain the

"outside" surface of the earth.

We made known our wishes, and they were reluctantly but promptly

followed. Our hosts gave my father, at his request, various maps showing

the entire "inside" surface of the earth, its cities, oceans, seas,

rivers, gulfs and bays. They also generously offered to give us all the

bags of gold nuggets--some of them as large as a goose's egg--that we

were willing to attempt to take with us in our little fishing-boat.

In due time we returned to Jehu, at which place we spent one month in

fixing up and overhauling our little fishing sloop. After all was in

readiness, the same ship "Naz" that originally discovered us, took us on

board and sailed to the mouth of the river Hiddekel.

After our giant brothers had launched our little craft for us, they were

most cordially regretful at parting, and evinced much solicitude for our

safety. My father swore by the Gods Odin and Thor that he would surely

return again within a year or two and pay them another visit. And thus

we bade them adieu. We made ready and hoisted our sail, but there was

little breeze. We were becalmed within an hour after our giant friends

had left us and started on their return trip.

The winds were constantly blowing south, that is, they were blowing from

the northern opening of the earth toward that which we knew to be south,

but which, according to our compass's pointing finger, was directly

north.

For three days we tried to sail, and to beat against the wind, but to no

avail. Whereupon my father said: "My son, to return by the same route as

we came in is impossible at this time of year. I wonder why we did not

think of this before. We have been here almost two and a half years;

therefore, this is the season when the sun is beginning to shine in

at the southern opening of the earth. The long cold night is on in the

Spitzbergen country."

"What shall we do?" I inquired.

"There is only one thing we can do," my father replied, "and that is to

go south." Accordingly, he turned the craft about, gave it full reef,

and started by the compass north but, in fact, directly south. The wind

was strong, and we seemed to have struck a current that was running with

remarkable swiftness in the same direction.

In just forty days we arrived at Delfi, a city we had visited in company

with our guides Jules Galdea and his wife, near the mouth of the

Gihon river. Here we stopped for two days, and were most hospitably

entertained by the same people who had welcomed us on our former visit.

We laid in some additional provisions and again set sail, following the

needle due north.

On our outward trip we came through a narrow channel which appeared to

be a separating body of water between two considerable bodies of land.

There was a beautiful beach to our right, and we decided to reconnoiter.

Casting anchor, we waded ashore to rest up for a day before continuing

the outward hazardous undertaking. We built a fire and threw on some

sticks of dry driftwood. While my father was walking along the shore, I

prepared a tempting repast from supplies we had provided.

There was a mild, luminous light which my father said resulted from the

sun shining in from the south aperture of the earth. That night we slept

soundly, and awakened the next morning as refreshed as if we had been in

our own beds at Stockholm.

After breakfast we started out on an inland tour of discovery, but had

not gone far when we sighted some birds which we recognized at once as

belonging to the penguin family.

They are flightless birds, but excellent swimmers and tremendous in

size, with white breast, short wings, black head, and long peaked bills.

They stand fully nine feet high. They looked at us with little surprise,

and presently waddled, rather than walked, toward the water, and swam

away in a northerly direction.(21)

(21 "The nights are never so dark at the Poles as in other regions, for

the moon and stars seem to possess twice as much light and effulgence.

In addition, there is a continuous light, the varied shades and play

of which are amongst the strangest phenomena of nature."--Rambrosson's

Astronomy.)

The events that occurred during the following hundred or more days

beggar description. We were on an open and iceless sea. The month we

reckoned to be November or December, and we knew the so-called South

Pole was turned toward the sun. Therefore, when passing out and away

from the internal electrical light of "The Smoky God" and its genial

warmth, we would be met by the light and warmth of the sun, shining in

through the south opening of the earth. We were not mistaken.(22)

(22 "The fact that gives the phenomenon of the polar aurora its greatest

importance is that the earth becomes self-luminous; that, besides the

light which as a planet is received from the central body, it shows

a capability of sustaining a luminous process proper to

itself."--Humboldt.)

There were times when our little craft, driven by wind that was

continuous and persistent, shot through the waters like an arrow.

Indeed, had we encountered a hidden rock or obstacle, our little vessel

would have been crushed into kindling-wood.

At last we were conscious that the atmosphere was growing decidedly

colder, and, a few days later, icebergs were sighted far to the left. My

father argued, and correctly, that the winds which filled our sails came

from the warm climate "within." The time of the year was certainly most

auspicious for us to make our dash for the "outside" world and attempt

to scud our fishing sloop through open channels of the frozen zone which

surrounds the polar regions.

We were soon amid the ice-packs, and how our little craft got through.

the narrow channels and escaped being crushed I know not. The compass

behaved in the same drunken and unreliable fashion in passing over

the southern curve or edge of the earth's shell as it had done on our

inbound trip at the northern entrance. It gyrated, dipped and seemed

like a thing possessed.(23)

(23 Captain Sabine, on page 105 in "Voyages in the Arctic Regions,"

says: "The geographical determination of the direction and intensity of

the magnetic forces at different points of the earth's surface has

been regarded as an object worthy of especial research. To examine in

different parts of the globe, the declination, inclination and intensity

of the magnetic force, and their periodical and secular variations, and

mutual relations and dependencies could be duly investigated only in

fixed magnetical observatories.")

One day as I was lazily looking over the sloop's side into the clear

waters, my father shouted: "Breakers ahead!" Looking up, I saw through

a lifting mist a white object that towered several hundred feet high,

completely shutting off our advance. We lowered sail immediately,

and none too soon. In a moment we found ourselves wedged between two

monstrous icebergs. Each was crowding and grinding against its

fellow mountain of ice. They were like two gods of war contending for

supremacy. We were greatly alarmed. Indeed, we were between the lines

of a battle royal; the sonorous thunder of the grinding ice was like the

continued volleys of artillery. Blocks of ice larger than a house were

frequently lifted up a hundred feet by the mighty force of lateral

pressure; they would shudder and rock to and fro for a few seconds, then

come crashing down with a deafening roar, and disappear in the foaming

waters. Thus, for more than two hours, the contest of the icy giants

continued.

It seemed as if the end had come. The ice pressure was terrific, and

while we were not caught in the dangerous part of the jam, and were safe

for the time being, yet the heaving and rending of tons of ice as it

fell splashing here and there into the watery depths filled us with

shaking fear.

Finally, to our great joy, the grinding of the ice ceased, and within a

few hours the great mass slowly divided, and, as if an act of Providence

had been performed, right before us lay an open channel. Should we

venture with our little craft into this opening? If the pressure came

on again, our little sloop as well as ourselves would be crushed into

nothingness. We decided to take the chance, and, accordingly, hoisted

our sail to a favoring breeze, and soon started out like a race-horse,

running the gauntlet of this unknown narrow channel of open water.

PART FIVE. AMONG THE ICE PACKS

FOR the next forty-five days our time was employed in dodging icebergs

and hunting channels; indeed, had we not been favored with a strong

south wind and a small boat, I doubt if this story could have ever been

given to the world.

At last, there came a morning when my father said: "My son, I think we

are to see home. We are almost through the ice. See! the open water lies

before us."

However, there were a few icebergs that had floated far northward into

the open water still ahead of us on either side, stretching away for

many miles. Directly in front of us, and by the compass, which had now

righted itself, due north, there was an open sea.

"What a wonderful story we have to tell to the people of Stockholm,"

continued my father, while a look of pardonable elation lighted up his

honest face. "And think of the gold nuggets stowed away in the hold!"

I spoke kind words of praise to my father, not alone for his fortitude

and endurance, but also for his courageous daring as a discoverer, and

for having made the voyage that now promised a successful end. I was

grateful, too, that he had gathered the wealth of gold we were carrying

home.

While congratulating ourselves on the goodly supply of provisions and

water we still had on hand, and on the dangers we had escaped, we were

startled by hearing a most terrific explosion, caused by the tearing

apart of a huge mountain of ice. It was a deafening roar like the firing

of a thousand cannon. We were sailing at the time with great speed, and

happened to be near a monstrous iceberg which to all appearances was as

immovable as a rockbound island. It seemed, however, that the iceberg

had split and was breaking apart, whereupon the balance of the monster

along which we were sailing was destroyed, and it began dipping from

us. My father quickly anticipated the danger before I realized its awful

possibilities. The iceberg extended down into the water many hundreds

of feet, and, as it tipped over, the portion coming up out of the water

caught our fishing-craft like a lever on a fulcrum, and threw it into

the air as if it had been a foot-ball.

Our boat fell back on the iceberg, that by this time had changed the

side next to us for the top. My father was still in the boat, having

become entangled in the rigging, while I was thrown some twenty feet

away.

I quickly scrambled to my feet and shouted to my father, who answered:

"All is well." Just then a realization dawned upon me. Horror upon

horror! The blood froze in my veins. The iceberg was still in motion,

and its great weight and force in toppling over would cause it to

submerge temporarily. I fully realized what a sucking maelstrom it would

produce amid the worlds of water on every side. They would rush into the

depression in all their fury, like white-fanged wolves eager for human

prey.

In this supreme moment of mental anguish, I remember glancing at our

boat, which was lying on its side, and wondering if it could possibly

right itself, and if my father could escape. Was this the end of our

struggles and adventures? Was this death? All these questions flashed

through my mind in the fraction of a second, and a moment later I was

engaged in a life and death struggle. The ponderous monolith of ice sank

below the surface, and the frigid waters gurgled around me in frenzied

anger. I was in a saucer, with the waters pouring in on every side. A

moment more and I lost consciousness.

When I partially recovered my senses, and roused from the swoon of a

half-drowned man, I found myself wet, stiff, and almost frozen, lying on

the iceberg. But there was no sign of my father or of our little fishing

sloop. The monster berg had recovered itself, and, with its new balance,

lifted its head perhaps fifty feet above the waves. The top of this

island of ice was a plateau perhaps half an acre in extent.

I loved my father well, and was grief-stricken at the awfulness of his

death. I railed at fate, that I, too, had not been permitted to sleep

with him in the depths of the ocean. Finally, I climbed to my feet and

looked about me. The purple-domed sky above, the shoreless green ocean

beneath, and only an occasional iceberg discernible! My heart sank in

hopeless despair. I cautiously picked my way across the berg toward the

other side, hoping that our fishing craft had righted itself.

Dared I think it possible that my father still lived? It was but a ray

of hope that flamed up in my heart. But the anticipation warmed my blood

in my veins and started it rushing like some rare stimulant through

every fiber of my body.

I crept close to the precipitous side of the iceberg, and peered far

down, hoping, still hoping. Then I made a circle of the berg, scanning

every foot of the way, and thus I kept going around and around. One part

of my brain was certainly becoming maniacal, while the other part, I

believe, and do to this day, was perfectly rational.

I was conscious of having made the circuit a dozen times, and while one

part of my intelligence knew, in all reason, there was not a vestige of

hope, yet some strange fascinating aberration bewitched and compelled

me still to beguile myself with expectation. The other part of my brain

seemed to tell me that while there was no possibility of my father being

alive, yet, if I quit making the circuitous pilgrimage, if I paused for

a single moment, it would be acknowledgment of defeat, and, should I do

this, I felt that I should go mad. Thus, hour after hour I walked

around and around, afraid to stop and rest, yet physically powerless

to continue much longer. Oh! horror of horrors! to be cast away in this

wide expanse of waters without food or drink, and only a treacherous

iceberg for an abiding place. My heart sank within me, and all semblance

of hope was fading into black despair.

Then the hand of the Deliverer was extended, and the death-like

stillness of a solitude rapidly becoming unbearable was suddenly broken

by the firing of a signal-gun. I looked up in startled amazement, when,

I saw, less than a half-mile away, a whaling-vessel bearing down toward

me with her sail full set.

Evidently my continued activity on the iceberg had attracted their

attention. On drawing near, they put out a boat, and, descending

cautiously to the water's edge, I was rescued, and a little later lifted

on board the whaling-ship.

I found it was a Scotch whaler, "The Arlington." She had cleared from

Dundee in September, and started immediately for the Antarctic, in

search of whales. The captain, Angus MacPherson, seemed kindly disposed,

but in matters of discipline, as I soon learned, possessed of an iron

will. When I attempted to tell him that I had come from the "inside" of

the earth, the captain and mate looked at each other, shook their heads,

and insisted on my being put in a bunk under strict surveillance of the

ship's physician.

I was very weak for want of food, and had not slept for many hours.

However, after a few days' rest, I got up one morning and dressed myself

without asking permission of the physician or anyone else, and told them

that I was as sane as anyone.

The captain sent for me and again questioned me concerning where I

had come from, and how I came to be alone on an iceberg in the far off

Antarctic Ocean. I replied that I had just come from the "inside" of the

earth, and proceeded to tell him how my father and myself had gone in

by way of Spitzbergen, and come out by way of the South Pole country,

whereupon I was put in irons. I afterward heard the captain tell the

mate that I was as crazy as a March hare, and that I must remain in

confinement until I was rational enough to give a truthful account of

myself.

Finally, after much pleading and many promises, I was released from

irons. I then and there decided to invent some story that would satisfy

the captain, and never again refer to my trip to the land of "The Smoky

God," at least until I was safe among friends.

Within a fortnight I was permitted to go about and take my place as one

of the seamen. A little later the captain asked me for an explanation.

I told him that my experience had been so horrible that I was fearful of

my memory, and begged him to permit me to leave the question

unanswered until some time in the future. "I think you are recovering

considerably," he said, "but you are not sane yet by a good deal."

"Permit me to do such work as you may assign," I replied, "and if it

does not compensate you sufficiently, I will pay you immediately after I

reach Stockholm--to the last penny." Thus the matter rested.

On finally reaching Stockholm, as I have already related, I found that

my good mother had gone to her reward more than a year before. I

have also told how, later, the treachery of a relative landed me in a

madhouse, where I remained for twenty-eight years--seemingly unending

years--and, still later, after my release, how I returned to the life of

a fisherman, following it sedulously for twenty-seven years, then how

I came to America, and finally to Los Angeles, California. But all this

can be of little interest to the reader. Indeed, it seems to me the

climax of my wonderful travels and strange adventures was reached when

the Scotch sailing-vessel took me from an iceberg on the Antarctic

Ocean.

PART SIX. CONCLUSION

IN concluding this history of my adventures, I wish to state that I

firmly believe science is yet in its infancy concerning the cosmology

of the earth. There is so much that is unaccounted for by the world's

accepted knowledge of to-day, and will ever remain so until the land of

"The Smoky God" is known and recognized by our geographers.

It is the land from whence came the great logs of cedar that have been

found by explorers in open waters far over the northern edge of the

earth's crust, and also the bodies of mammoths whose bones are found in

vast beds on the Siberian coast.

Northern explorers have done much. Sir John Franklin, De Haven Grinnell,

Sir John Murray, Kane, Melville, Hall, Nansen, Schwatka, Greely, Peary,

Ross, Gerlache, Bernacchi, Andree, Amsden, Amundson and others have all

been striving to storm the frozen citadel of mystery.

I firmly believe that Andree and his two brave companions, Strindberg

and Fraenckell, who sailed away in the balloon "Oreon" from the

northwest coast of Spitzbergen on that Sunday afternoon of July

11, 1897, are now in the "within" world, and doubtless are being

entertained, as my father and myself were entertained by the

kind-hearted giant race inhabiting the inner Atlantic Continent.

Having, in my humble way, devoted years to these problems, I am well

acquainted with the accepted definitions of gravity, as well as the

cause of the magnetic needle's attraction, and I am prepared to say that

it is my firm belief that the magnetic needle is influenced solely by

electric currents which completely envelop the earth like a garment,

and that these electric currents in an endless circuit pass out of the

southern end of the earth's cylindrical opening, diffusing and spreading

themselves over all the "outside" surface, and rushing madly on in their

course toward the North Pole. And while these currents seemingly dash

off into space at the earth's curve or edge, yet they drop again to the

"inside" surface and continue their way southward along the inside of

the earth's crust, toward the opening of the so-called South Pole.(24)

(24 "Mr. Lemstrom concluded that an electric discharge which could only

be seen by means of the spectroscope was taking place on the surface of

the ground all around him, and that from a distance it would appear as

a faint display of Aurora, the phenomena of pale and flaming light which

is some times seen on the top of the Spitzbergen Mountains."--The Arctic

Manual, page 739.)

As to gravity, no one knows what it is, because it has not been

determined whether it is atmospheric pressure that causes the apple to

fall, or whether, 150 miles below the surface of the earth, supposedly

one-half way through the earth's crust, there exists some powerful

loadstone attraction that draws it. Therefore, whether the apple, when

it leaves the limb of the tree, is drawn or impelled downward to the

nearest point of resistance, is unknown to the students of physics.

Sir James Ross claimed to have discovered the magnetic pole at about

seventy-four degrees latitude. This is wrong--the magnetic pole is

exactly one-half the distance through the earth's crust. Thus, if the

earth's crust is three hundred miles in thickness, which is the distance

I estimate it to be, then the magnetic pole is undoubtedly one hundred

and fifty miles below the surface of the earth, it matters not where the

test is made. And at this particular point one hundred and fifty miles

below the surface, gravity ceases, becomes neutralized; and when we pass

beyond that point on toward the "inside" surface of the earth, a reverse

attraction geometrically increases in power, until the other one hundred

and fifty miles of distance is traversed, which would bring us out on

the "inside" of the earth.

Thus, if a hole were bored down through the earth's crust at London,

Paris, New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles, a distance of three hundred

miles, it would connect the two surfaces. While the inertia and momentum

of a weight dropped in from the "outside" surface would carry it far

past the magnetic center, yet, before reaching the "inside" surface

of the earth it would gradually diminish in speed, after passing the

halfway point, finally pause and immediately fall back toward the

"outside" surface, and continue thus to oscillate, like the swinging of

a pendulum with the power removed, until it would finally rest at

the magnetic center, or at that particular point exactly one-half the

distance between the "outside" surface and the "inside" surface of the

earth.

The gyration of the earth in its daily act of whirling around in its

spiral rotation--at a rate greater than one thousand miles every

hour, or about seventeen miles per second--makes of it a vast

electro-generating body, a huge machine, a mighty prototype of the

puny-man-made dynamo, which, at best, is but a feeble imitation of

nature's original.

The valleys of this inner Atlantis Continent, bordering the upper waters

of the farthest north are in season covered with the most magnificent

and luxuriant flowers. Not hundreds and thousands, but millions, of

acres, from which the pollen or blossoms are carried far away in almost

every direction by the earth's spiral gyrations and the agitation of the

wind resulting therefrom, and it is these blossoms or pollen from the

vast floral meadows "within" that produce the colored snows of the

Arctic regions that have so mystified the northern explorers.(25)

(25 Kane, vol. I, page 44, says: "We passed the 'crimson cliffs' of Sir

John Ross in the forenoon of August 5th. The patches of red snow from

which they derive their name could be seen clearly at the distance of

ten miles from the coast."

La Chambre, in an account of Andree's balloon expedition, on page

144, says: "On the isle of Amsterdam the snow is tinted with red for a

considerable distance, and the savants are collecting it to examine

it microscopically. It presents, in fact, certain peculiarities; it is

thought that it contains very small plants. Scoresby, the famous whaler,

had already remarked this.")

Beyond question, this new land "within" is the home, the cradle, of the

human race, and viewed from the standpoint of the discoveries made by

us, must of necessity have a most important bearing on all physical,

paleontological, archaeological, philological and mythological theories

of antiquity.

The same idea of going back to the land of mystery--to the very

beginning--to the origin of man--is found in Egyptian traditions of

the earlier terrestrial regions of the gods, heroes and men, from

the historical fragments of Manetho, fully verified by the historical

records taken from the more recent excavations of Pompeii as well as the

traditions of the North American Indians.

It is now one hour past midnight--the new year of 1908 is here, and this

is the third day thereof, and having at last finished the record of my

strange travels and adventures I wish given to the world, I am ready,

and even longing, for the peaceful rest which I am sure will follow

life's trials and vicissitudes. I am old in years, and ripe both with

adventures and sorrows, yet rich with the few friends I have cemented to

me in my struggles to lead a just and upright life. Like a story that

is well-nigh told, my life is ebbing away. The presentiment is strong

within me that I shall not live to see the rising of another sun. Thus

do I conclude my message. OLAF JANSEN.

PART SEVEN. AUTHOR'S AFTERWORD

I FOUND much difficulty in deciphering and editing the manuscripts of

Olaf Jansen. However, I have taken the liberty of reconstructing only

a very few expressions, and in doing this have in no way changed the

spirit or meaning. Otherwise, the original text has neither been added

to nor taken from.

It is impossible for me to express my opinion as to the value or

reliability of the wonderful statements made by Olaf Jansen. The

description here given of the strange lands and people visited by

him, location of cities, the names and directions of rivers, and other

information herein combined, conform in every way to the rough drawings

given into my custody by this ancient Norseman, which drawings together

with the manuscript it is my intention at some later date to give to the

Smithsonian Institution, to preserve for the benefit of those interested

in the mysteries of the "Farthest North"--the frozen circle of silence.

It is certain there are many things in Vedic literature, in "Josephus,"

the "Odyssey," the "Iliad," Terrien de Lacouperie's "Early History of

Chinese Civilization," Flammarion's "Astronomical Myths," Lenormant's

"Beginnings of History," Hesiod's "Theogony," Sir John de Maundeville's

writings, and Sayce's "Records of the Past," that, to say the least,

are strangely in harmony with the seemingly incredible text found in

the yellow manuscript of the old Norseman, Olaf Jansen, and now for the

first time given to the world.

THE END