George W. Bell

“To-morrow” has come. The outside world seems glad to be alive. I—the Editor—accustomed to mental ease and physical comfort, am confronted with perplexing duties. My bills are paid, my health is good, and my mind is clear, but, confound the idea of work! I never liked work, and I fear even custom will not reconcile me to drudgery. But duty calls, and, so far, duty has never called upon me in vain.

I—the Editor, remember—am ashamed that I forgot Leo Bergin for two long years; I am more ashamed that I so nearly forgot the package, the contents of which may bring pleasure to many a curious and careworn soul, for, as a fact, I feel rebuked even by the presence of this evidence of sturdy resolve, so wanting in myself. As a fact, I know, when I care to be serious, that Leo Bergin, with his restless ambition, his tireless industry, his dauntless courage, his reckless love of adventure, and his almost insane determination to turn on a little more light, with all his faults, was worth to his kind, more than a legion of happy idlers, who, like myself, were born in wealth, and indolently dallied in the soft lap of luxury, careless alike to the sorrows and the joys of common humanity.

Well, as a compromise with my conscience—I think it must be conscience, for the sensation is new to me—I am determined to unravel the mystery of Leo Bergin’s absence, and, if in the mass of labored matter, there is one thought or fact or idea worthy of his fine attainments and insane strife, the world shall find some compensation for his many errors.

With comfortable surroundings, cheerful fire, easy chair, convenient desk and table, fine cigars, ample library, a new found sense of duty, an industry aroused by remorse, and with a sense of deep responsibility I begin my work, feeling that the suggestion from the dying author to “boil it down” has vastly augmented the difficulties that confront me.

I am abundantly aware that the age is athirst for fiction, whereas I have for its patience but a plain unvarnished tale. I know the taste for graceful periods, while I can give but labored phrase, and I know the critics want only the “meat,” while I must crave the indulgence of an occasional flourish.

For the present, at least, I shall “boil down” the matter contained in Leo Bergin’s copious notes. In this I may do him an injustice, but I shall save myself much toil and mental worry.

Of Leo Bergin I shall speak well. He is dead—and by the world’s philosophy, we should speak kindly of the dead. What a vile philosophy! Why not speak kindly of the living? Why do we taunt, and harpoon, and revile the erring soul, until it drops into senseless dust, and then, when our poisoned shafts no longer sting, feel constrained to “speak kindly of the dead!”

Oh! my brothers, be good to me while I am alive; you may encourage me, aid me, save me, and when I am dead, you have a standing invitation to my funeral, and your tongues will not grieve me.

But, goodbye, indolent reverie, goodbye dreamy speculation, goodbye ease and careless waste of precious hours, and welcome toil, for I am going to do penance, so welcome wearisome work, and welcome thou confused mass of spoiled and rumpled paper, for I long to release the winged words, held so sacredly in your perishable grasp.

’Tis a strange mystery, the power of words. Life is in them, and death. A word may send the crimson current hurrying to the cheek, hurrying with many meanings, or may turn it, cold and deadly, to the heart. And yet, a word is but a breath of passing air. This is pretty—I hope it is original, but I fear it is not—but here begins the diary, a full record of the doings and observations of Leo Bergin for two eventful years. Where is number one? Ah! here it is, a few little old crumpled sheets I had not seen. No. 1 plain enough. He began on these, and laid in his supply of paper later. I will quote verbatim the first few pages, as they may furnish the key to the whole.

Well, then, this is the starting of that career, I hope an interesting one. It begins:—

“At sea, on board steamer Irene,
“Off coast Spain,
“October 5th, 1898.

“Terrible storm! The purser said we were in ‘imminent danger.’ Danger! how thrilling!—if a fellow were not so sick. Terrible storm! But, as compared with my tempestuous soul, the angry Mediterranean is still.

“I regret having met Sir Marmaduke. He did me a kindness; I served Folder well; Lucile, and I—a poor adventurer—became friends. The Times wanted me to go to Armenia; I borrowed the money from young Folder in his father’s absence; young Folder, it seems, took the money from the firm’s safe; he fell into disgrace with his father, accused me, and—well, Folder and Sir Marmaduke and dear Lucile, all think me a thief. Let the old Mediterranean howl, let her mountainous waves plough the ground, until all the bones of all she has slain are washed up and cast on the shores of bloody Spain, and until the Pillars of Hercules are torn from their base, and I will laugh at raving Nature’s petulant moods, and go down smiling with the wreckage to death and eternal night. But confound young Folder! and, but for Lucile, I would teach him a sense of proportion. Sir Marmaduke shall sometime know that he was not mistaken in me—and Lucile—well, maybe she’d rather think me a villain, than to know her brother was one.”

Well, well! “Oh, my prophetic soul!” Leo Bergin, forgive! Then, Leo was not a thief, and I, like a common fool, now that the truth is out should have known that Leo Bergin, with his fine attainments, his superb vanity, and his indifference to wealth, could not stain his hands with dishonor. Surely it was a foolish proceeding at such a juncture for Leo Bergin to die. What fine material for a romance! But we never romance. He continues:—

“This morning I discovered that I had a strange cabin mate. Physically, he is the finest type of manly beauty I ever beheld; and, mentally, he seems above our common human nature. That he is no fool is certain, that he is not insane, I am fairly well persuaded, and that he is mistaken seems hardly credible, yet as measured by all the supposed knowledge of our generation, by the demonstrations of science and the calculations of thinkers, he talks the most arrant nonsense. His splendid personality, his easy graceful manners, and his general intelligence interests one; his ‘sublime gift of eloquent gab,’ his seeming logic, and his insinuating ideas are charming, but the seeming boldness, not to say audacity of his statements astonishes one. But to me, he is resistless; and for good or ill, success or failure, life or death, I have cast my lot with him.

“Evening, later. Strange experience this—the storms have no terror for me. Strange! but this mysterious cabin mate has captivated me. I was so bewildered with his impossible statements and extravagant claims, and with all his absolute indifference as to our incredulity, that I sought refuge in the captain’s room, and here, listening to an interesting recital, I spent four of the most thrilling hours of my life.

“The captain is certainly a gentleman of superior parts. He has a fine knowledge of astronomy, he is a master of geography, and is deeply read in the broader and more general physical sciences, and yet, in the presence of this stranger, as he seems not of our world in any sense common to our understanding, he is dumb with astonishment.

“This strange being, surely a man, for he eats and drinks and smokes, and worse, he snores, says he is Amoora Oseba, that he lives in a great city called Eurania, in a country called Cavitorus, and that his people are called Shadowas. Save that the mind wanders with an unconscious effort to locate this country, city, and people, this statement seems but commonplace.

“But where is Cavitorus? Where is the City of Eurania? and who the de’il are the Shadowas? Save that he might be regarded as a superior sample, this Amoora Oseba—which sounds Arabian—might be taken easily for a Russian, a Dane, a Scot, or a Yankee. But whence came he? Let him tell us.

“At the captain’s suggestion, I invited him to the fore-cabin, where, seated around a table, our host, the chief engineer, a merchant from Boston, a parson, my cabin mate and myself, were met for interesting inquiry.

“The instruments having been brought and the glasses filled, the captain looked in the face of Mr. Oseba, and said in manly business tones, ‘We have become interested in you, Mr. Oseba, and while your statements seem most astounding to us, we have invited you to my cabin, that we might persuade you to give us some explanation of your strange theories; and as an introduction of the subject, I beg to inquire from what country you hail, and what is your destination?’

“The question seemed rational, and to most men, how easily answered! But here was a new experience. All eyes were turned on the handsome, intelligent, earnest face of my new-made friend and fellow-passenger, and he said: ‘Mystery lies just beyond the visible horizon of the knowable. Because I have explored the realms of your mental and visible horizon, either of you could easily answer me such a question, and to the satisfaction of all; but as my country lies beyond both your mental and visible horizon, I can only answer by an explanation, moving or advancing such lines.’

“Here Amoora Oseba took a globe in his hand, and remarked that as educated men they regarded this as a ‘counterfeit presentment’ or model of the world they inhabited. He explained that for millions of years, our ancestors remained indifferent, and then disputed about the shape or form of the world they inhabited; that in comparatively recent times loving men cooked one another for believing the world to be round, and that in times really but yesterday, the most advanced people had nothing like a correct conception of the construction of the Universe.

PREMIER SEDDON AND HIS POLITICAL FAMILY.

Premier Seddon and his political family

From left—The Honorables C. H. Mills, W. C. Walker, C.M.G., R. J. Seddon, P.C. LL.D., T. Duncan, J. Carroll, Sir J. G. Ward, K.C.M.G., W. Hall-Jones, J. McGowan.

“‘In old, old times,’ he said, ‘our ancestors believed the world to be flat. That question for thousands of years was considered settled. For a comparatively brief time the world has [Pg 24]
[Pg 25]been considered to be round, a solid sphere. This, for this short period, has been the “settled” notion.’

“But he assured us that the propositions were equally fallacious. The whole party was inclined to laugh, but he continued. He reminded us that we all believed in the nebular theory, that our earth, with the other planets, had been thrown off by the sun’s rapid rotary motion; that in rapid revolution these masses had assumed forms peculiar to their revolutionary velocity, that planets had in turn thrown off masses that had become satellites, and that form was a result of motion, mass, and volume. He reminded us of the natural tendency of matter to fly from the surface of a rapidly revolving wheel, cylinder, or globe.

“This was the case with our earth. While yet a yielding or molten mass, it whirled very rapidly on its axis, the surface cooled and became rigid, and the molten matter contracted. During this process, the plastic interior moved towards the crust, the cooling mass requiring less and less space. Thus the centre parted, and our earth became, not a solid globe, as you were taught to believe, but an oval ring, a hollow ball, revolving rapidly as do the rings of Saturn, formed under the same law, but owing to the mass in her case being greater, the gravitation of the interior held the central mass together as a planet. ‘As a fact,’ he said, taking a large apple in his hand, ‘if the core of this apple were removed with a care that would preserve the proper curvature, I will venture to say “ovality,” it would present an exact model of our world. Then the world is hollow, not solid, and it is habitable and inhabited over the oval.’

“The members of the party looked at each other with amused curiosity. ‘Symmes!’ said the captain; ‘Hurra for old Kentuck!’ said the Yankee; ‘Logic!’ said the engineer.

“‘You smile,’ said Oseba, ‘but a man may smile and smile, he may even sneer, and still be wrong.’

“He looked so undisturbed, so dignified and earnest, that levity ceased, and he said ‘As a rule, men accept their opinions ready made, and they only search for corroborating evidence. When Galileo proclaimed a new truth, he was silenced, by the frowns of authority. Who was right? When Bruno proclaimed a great truth, he was cooked, by authority. Who was right? All your schoolboys of to-day know.’

“‘But when Symmes advanced a new theory, because the world had grown more tolerant or less earnest, he was laughed out of court, while those who imprisoned Galileo, and cooked Bruno, and ridiculed Columbus and Magellan, having grown careless, amused themselves by writing of Symmes’ northern regions as “Symmes’ Hole.”’

“‘Well, gentlemen,’ said Mr. Oseba, ‘I am from over the Oval, from “Symmes’ Hole,” and after five years of constant travel and hard study among the people of the outer world, whom we call Outeroos, I am returning to “Symmes’ Hole,” and this young man,’ turning to me, ‘is going with me to report.’

“There was no mirth, the captain drumming on the table said, ‘Ahem!’ The Yankee said, as he looked quizzically at me, ‘Well, I guess he’ll have to muffle himself up pretty good, and I think our house could give him a proper outfit,’ and the engineer said to me, ‘raising the curtain is the most interesting part of the performance.’

“‘But this is so far outside of our experience and our observations,’ said the good-natured skipper.

“‘Pardon,’ said the calm Oseba, ‘the observations of your men of experience have but confirmed our contentions, though the evidence so far, has not disturbed the hypotheses of your theorists. But what are the observations of your men of hard experience? This leads to another line of inquiry.’

“Save by an occasional question, the silence of the listeners had been unbroken from the start. The subject had been profoundly discussed, and as the hour was growing late, it was agreed that the party meet at once after dinner on the following evening. All faces now looked serious. The captain thanked the stranger, and said, ‘We met to scoff, we remained in rapt attention, we retire to meditate. To-morrow evening,’ said he, ‘we will question you, our worthy guest, with a different feeling. Good night.’

“What a unique experience! How I would like to have had Sir Marmaduke with us. But Sir Marmaduke thinks I am a thief and unworthy of his presence.

By George! that is striking. The man from “Symmes’ Hole.” Ha! Ha! Well, I wish I had been there. But Leo Bergin does me an injustice, for I was too careless to think about his crime, or alleged crime, for, as a fact, I liked him when I met him, and in his absence, I never thought either of him or his folly.

“What fools we mortals be!” We are eternally worrying about what others think of us, when, in fact, each of all the “others” is quite engaged with his or her own affairs. What “everybody says” is usually only what some idle meddler says, the busy world having no thought or care on the matter. But Leo Bergin thought of me, well—

But,—“Never, never more.”

Let us see what follows, for this is more interesting far, than a courtship. Let’s see—the next day I left the ship at Lisbon, in response to mail from Hamburg. Let’s see if I am forgotten as easily as he was, and what the man from Symmes’ Hole had to say at the adjourned meeting. By my soul, this is rich! The notes read:—

“At sea, on board S.S. Irene,
“Off coast of Portugal,
“October 7th, 1898.

“’Tis midnight’s holy hour, and silence now is brooding o’er a still and pulseless world.

“What an eventful day! In old Lisbon a few hours, made a few purchases—paper to hold stuff enough to startle the world—saw Sir Marmaduke on the steps of the Cathedral; he did not answer my salute. If I live, he shall know me better. If—oh, that terrible ‘if’! that brief halt, that in all our hopes arises to console us, that brief halt that excuses impotency for failure, chills me.

“Had a long chat with my chief, Oseba, re our polar journey. Strange, I speak of this with candour, and make my plans as if it were actual, and yet my judgment scoffs at my foolish dreams, for, as a fact, it must be the delusion of a madman. So I thought at 4 p.m.—

“Later.

“Promptly at eight, the party of last evening re-assembled in the captain’s cabin. All seated at the table, Amoora Oseba handed round some fine cigars, the glasses were filled, and the skipper said, ‘Now, Mr. Oseba, we would like to hear further from you, for if you are insane, there seems to be method in your madness. If you are a joker, you are a most charming entertainer, but if you are sane and candid, for the world’s good you should remain quiet, only when necessary to refresh yourself for further effort.’

“The captain had prepared a six-inch globe by removing the axial core, and paring down the outer openings so as to leave it oval with the outer curves for Mr. Oseba’s convenience in making his illustrations—this was Oseba’s ‘apple,’ the core removed.

“On rising, Mr. Oseba thanked the captain for his courtesy, and raising the globe, he reminded the party that he was to review the observations of experienced men in support of what to him was more than a theory. He asked his friends to fix in their minds the new form of our globe, for that was important.

“He first called attention to the fact that all the extreme North Polar regions were rich with the waste or remains of animal and vegetable life. This was ‘settled.’ ‘All navigators agree,’ he said, ‘that hibernating animals, say above 80 or even 78°, go north to winter; and that driftwood comes from the north with flowers unknown to botanists. In high latitudes birds and swarms of insects come from the north in spring, and Tyson’s men killed many of these migrating birds for food for his crew. In the craws of these birds there were found undigested grains of wheat, some of which were planted and grew in California. The kernel of this wheat was three times the common size, and California seasons were too short for its ripening. Now, whence came the birds, the wheat, and the insects? Plainly, from “Symmes’ Hole.” Greely found the ice but four feet thick at 82°, and less than two feet at 84°, so the ice would not bear the boats, and many navigators report an open polar sea, and greatly agitated waters at high latitudes.

“‘By the old theory, it must be known that, at the poles, the North Star would be—must be—directly overhead, or in the zenith. But, as a fact, all polar explorers know that the pole star is in the zenith at about 80°, and that, at 83-4°, it is seen far towards the stern of the ship. If the old theory were true, this phenomenon seen at 84° would only appear after a ship had sailed past the Pole some ten or twelve degrees.

“‘The fact is,’ said he, ‘sailing north at 84°, the verge is past, the curvature is sharper, and the ship is dipping into “Symmes’ Hole.” Further, at 82° north, the horizon very sensibly contracts to the north and south, and enormously lengthens east and west. This is on the verge, at the point of sharpest curvature.’

“While these arguments were not entirely new to the captain, they struck him with a new force, and the party remained silent. Assuming that he had made out his case, the Sage assured us confidently that the earth was hollow, with openings at the Poles; that the equatorial sides are about 3000 miles thick; that the surface of the interior world, like that of the outside, has mountains and plains, rivers and lakes; that it has proportionately less habitable lands, an equatorial zone of some 2000 miles being quite uninhabitable; that on either side of this there is a habitable belt of variable width; that from the sun and its reflections, and electrical phenomena, there are ample light and heat; and that about 3000 miles north of the equator, just under and opposite the Greenwich meridian, stands the City of Eurania—the most beautiful and opulent on this planet—the capital of a great and wealthy country.

“Silence reigned for a few moments, when the deeply interested Boston man, in the most inquisitive and earnest tones said, ‘But, my dear Sir, as we are evidently of about the same class of goods, and were probably turned out of the same mill, how the de’il did you fellows get down there? and how the de’il did you get out?’

“This discussion, so learned, so full, so logical, so eloquent, and so earnest, should be preserved, even to the tones and expression, but I am weary, and it is late, and if—there is that ‘if’ again—if I live, nothing of that scene shall perish; and if I don’t—and, I won’t—I will have spent time enough on it, for all will probably be lost, so I will ‘boil it down.’

“Well, in answer, Amoora Oseba said that it was now a well-settled theory that, probably owing to periodic oscillations of the earth, the course and character of which were not yet understood, there had been great changes in the temperature of the polar regions. The moving down and the receding of the polar ice limits, in no distant geological times in the past are abundantly evident. The temperature at the so-called Poles had materially varied, the ice-belt so oscillating that at times animal and higher vegetable life flourished at high latitudes, as is known by the abundant remains of undecayed animals still found in the ice fields.

A PRETTY TALE.

“Then he related a tradition among his people, reciting that in the far distant past—at [Pg 32]
[Pg 33]a time probably when the polar regions were rather temperate, and most of the human race were yet in barbarism—a small tribe of peacefully disposed people inhabited a fertile region in an open world, where the horizon stretched away alike in all directions.

“The chief of these amiable people was an attractive and commanding personality named Olif. This Olif had a most beautiful daughter, whose mother, while gathering flowers for her child, had been strangled by the orders of an envious and childless queen. The name of the daughter was Eurania, which means “Sunbeam.” But as she grew to womanhood she so strongly resembled her father, and was so constantly at his side, that the two beings seemed a double—but a single soul—and soon the people idolised the damsel under the name of Oliffa. Olif and Oliffa, the chief and his daughter, as guardian spirits, held supreme authority.

“At a great festival, in which many kindred tribes and nations met to celebrate an historic event, a grim chieftain of a warlike tribe became enamoured of Oliffa. He demanded her as one of his wives. Oliffa declined—there was a rush to arms, and many of Olif’s people were slain.

“The great King Oonah took sides with his warlike chief. Oliffa was taken by force, she was led to an altar in sight of her people, her ankles were loaded with fetters, her whole tribe were condemned to extinction, and preparations were being made for the general massacre. When the King, beholding Oliffa that she was stately, beautiful, and wise withal, said:

“‘Let not Olif and his tribe be slain, but banished—banished; for ‘tis not well that so goodly a people should perish from the earth. I have spoken.’

“But Olif and his followers gathered themselves together, and the warriors, joining in one defiant voice, answered:

“‘While we may not hope to resist the force of your savage chieftains who would expel us, we will fight here until we all die, under the gaze of Oliffa; and,’ said they in thunderous tones, ‘we have spoken.’

“Oliffa, heroic in her despair, raised herself to her full height, and, lifting her hands imploringly to the National Gods, in a clear and earnest voice that made the chieftain quail, said:

“‘No, my father and my people, die not, but live for Oliffa—save a remnant of the tribe of Olif. I am Oliffa—human virtue is greater than kings or death. Go to the north, dwell in the hollow of my hand, and, in the fulness of time, thou shalt return to embrace me.’ She had finished.

“With bowed head and in sorrow, Olif and his followers withdrew, and slowly wended their way towards the unknown regions of the north. But a party, with the angry chief Sawara, pursued, and coming to the verge of the land, Olif and his band took refuge on what seemed to be a small island. Here they repelled their pursuers, and soon they saw the channel that separated them from the mainland widen, and they thanked their deities for their deliverance.

“But, alas! they soon discovered that they were on an ice-floe, and were moving north toward the open sea. Provisions soon gave out, they prayed to their gods, they floated and suffered, and as the weaker perished, cannibalism was resorted to—for madness possessed the despairing party. Days and weeks passed, an impenetrable fog enveloped them, and they gave themselves up to utter hopelessness.

“However, soon the atmosphere became milder, the distant breakers were heard, the fog rose like a curtain, and behold! land was near. Nearer yet they floated. Night came, the full moon shone, but it moved not up from, but along the rim of the horizon. Morning came, bright and balmy. The floe had entered a strange harbor, and soon the shores were reached. It seemed a ‘goodly land’ with fertile soil and genial climate.

“‘But a remnant of the peaceful tribe of Olif,’ he said, ‘were saved—nine men, thirteen women and five children. They cut boughs and built an habitation, and they said: “This shall be our dwelling place. Our city shall be called Eurania, in honor of our lost one, and here we will tarry until we return to the goddess Oliffa.”’

“‘This country,’ said Oseba, ‘was Cavitorus. These people were the ancestors of my people, the Shadowas, and on the banks of a charming harbour they built the City of Eurania, the most beautiful to-day on this planet.’

“‘Through all the ages, from barbarism to the present,’ said Oseba, ‘there has been a lingering tale, a faint tradition among the people as related, and a vague idea that they dwelt in a shadow, in the hollow of a hand, and that some time in after ages, or in after life, they would return to an upper world, called in nursery tales and by the superstitious, Oliffa, where the inhabitants are called Outeroos—because they dwell on the outer world.’

Leo Bergin soliloquizes:—

“What astounding folly! and yet, I am on my way over the limitless fields of ice and snow and dead men’s bones, to this phantom city, Eurania. Courage! who knows, for—

“‘Well,’ said Oseba, ‘these few people were of an amiable race, and a common danger, and a common sorrow, had made them brethren. Then the animals of this country were many, strong, amiable, and easily tamed; the mountains were accessible, the climate genial, and the soil so fruitful that there was nothing to suggest savagery. All nature smiled, and man progressed peacefully.’

“‘The people,’ he continued, ‘increased, they were prosperous and happy. They had no foes—so war was unknown. The animals of the chase were tamed, and agriculture became an early occupation.’

“Traditions had been broken; back of the people there were but dead walls. Interminable ice and snow, as well as time, separated them from the past. With prosperous industry the population increased. Colonies were planted along the interior sea shores, and commerce was developed. There were no despots to despoil, no superstition to blight, no wars to devastate, no idleness to waste, and wealth, such as the Outeroos never dreamed of, followed as a result.

“The lands were held for the people, but the lands were limited, and as the centuries came and went, and went and came, the population became very dense. Civilisation and Science had come, but the population began to press upon the means of subsistence. Opulent nations arose, accumulated wealth was great, but room was becoming scarce. For a time, inventive genius helped to solve the problem, but the sorrows multiplied as the struggle was made more easy. Soon necessities suggested remedies for growing evils, which not to use meant universal destruction.

“The population crowded and the weak and deformed were ‘removed.’ The remedy was but tentative, and gradually the pressure grew still stronger. As the centuries passed, all the weak, the worthless, and the unfit were sterilised. The pressure still increased. The State then provided for taking charge of all the children, and only the most fit were allowed to become parents.

“Under this policy, and under wise management, the State became the ‘universal mother.’ Parents knew not their offspring, nor the offspring their parents, and the love of humanity and public duty became the inspiring motives of human action. Under this policy, too, have the leading nations of Cavitorus, with the Shadowas in the lead, developed their present civilisation. Under such a policy they have been able to adjust the population to the possibilities of the land, and thus while they have been building their opulent present, they have developed the finest type of people mentally, morally and physically, that ever inhabited this planet.

“Oseba explained the quickness of the soil in Cavitorus, the length of the seasons and of the days, with their peculiar irregularities. He described the movements of the sun, its appearance at various seasons of the year, and why it was never entirely dark in those regions.

“Then he recited a further tradition, relating that at the time the people reached Cavitorus, the bright star Oree was the ‘Pole Star,’ that it had moved gradually away, but that in about twenty thousand years it was to return to its old position. Further, that on the return of Oree—the tradition ran—the Shadowas would be released from their seeming isolation, and be reunited with their brethren of the outer world to the presence, or on the surface of, Oliffa.

“‘You see,’ said Oseba, ‘in the development of all people their myths and their heroes are strongly allied to, if they are not the actual forces of, Nature, and all have a seasoning of truth as a basis.

“‘The people had watched Oree; were waiting his return, and were alert for signs of the coming change, or, as they put it, for a “deliverer.” They believed from this tradition, that they had been in Cavitorus twenty thousand years, and a confidence in their future deliverance was a deep-seated superstition, a real faith and hope.

“‘Well, Oree, as seen from the spot where the first “pilgrims landed,” as indicated by a peak on a distant mountain, appeared some twenty-five years ago, and, as on the very night the observations were taken a portion of a wrecked vessel was cast upon our shores, no wonder the long-deferred hope found expression in a movement for inquiry and exploration.

“‘Later, a tame dog with a brass collar on his neck was taken from an ice-floe. Later still, by a few months, a small box and a snow-shoe drifted ashore. In your year 1890, the corpse of a white man, clothed in furs, was found on the beach, and the next morning two bodies of what are now known to have been Esquimaux, were found. As we lived on the ocean front, we knew whence these came. At this the State took up the work, made an appropriation, organised a party, and, well,’ said he, ‘they abundantly equipped an expedition, put me in charge, and I am here on my return to Cavitorus, after a five years’ tour, covering the countries of all the outer globe.’”

What masterly logic! What skill in the marshalling of details!

“Well,” adds Leo Bergin, soliloquizing, “if it is true, and it must be, for I am going there, how much stranger than fiction!”

The notes continue:—

“The captain inquired about the harbors along the coast of Cavitorus; the Boston man inquired if there were any gold mines; the parson, how high the Shadowas built their church spires; and the engineer, what motive power was used in their transportation.

“To these Mr. Oseba answered: ‘I fear, if I should tell you one half the truth about these things we should be “discovered,” to our sorrow.’

“The hour was late, and as all seemed dazed by the recital, the party dispersed, to bed,—

BOILING IT DOWN.

Well, that is rich! Leo had to cut it short, but he saved me a lot of trouble. Let’s see. Here is a lot of interesting details—interesting if life were not so short—but I’ll have to “boil it down,” for “spice” is the word.

The two adventurers left the Irene at Amsterdam, ran to Hamburg, where they remained over winter, and being joined by Oseba’s fellow-adventurers, they took a small steamer sent as a supply ship for a polar party “frozen up” in the seas north of Spitzbergen. Disembarking, they joined a party for the journey further north, intending to strike the open sea at a known point. As would be expected, “the cold was intense,” but the party was splendidly equipped, and progress, for polar travel, was rapid.

“Oseba,” say the notes, “had recourse to a magazine he had supplied for the purpose [Pg 40]
[Pg 41]on his outward journey. Here were supplies of condensed food, articles of raiment that bid defiance to cold, instruments which by reflection converted light into warmth, and various scientific appliances, some that practically rendered the party immune from cold, and others that aided them in meeting many dangers.”

Leo Bergin had not a reputation for underestimating the trials of any adventure in which he embarked, but taking all in all, it seems from his report that, under the lead of this wizard from “Symmes’ Hole,” a visit to the jumping-off place at the north could be made with little inconvenience or risk to life or health.

Only once in fifty pages of notes does Leo Bergin complain of hardship. Not once does he express any regrets, and he never once loses faith in his master. Only once does he say “the hardships are severe,” and then he adds, “but the genius of Oseba has made us so immune from Nature’s blasts, that, on the main point, we are almost comfortable.”

There were seven of the returning party, five of the nine friends, who, five years before, had crossed these frozen plains with Oseba, and the two “star” adventurers.

Considering the tales written by North Pole hunters, the incidents of this journey, from 80° over the “oval” or verge, to 60° inside, are hardly worthy of extensive comment. So I’ll throw the whole journey across these trackless fields of ice and snow into the waste-paper basket, or, better still, leave them here, consigned to more certain oblivion.

Had Leo Bergin been a jester, a thousand richer tales than were ever written by those who, in search of fame, have joined the throngs that left their bones in the unknown regions of the North, could have been found in these candid notes,

So I shall metaphorically skip some fifty of Leo Bergin’s pages, and take up the story where the party arrived in the small but picturesque harbor, on the shores of which stands the City of Eurania, the capital of Cavitorus—just over the “oval.”

Over five long years had passed, since the sage Oseba, the idol of Cavitorus, and his nine brave friends had been commissioned to explore the outer world, in search of truth, in search of laws or customs by which the Shadowas might be more wisely guided, or to find a country to which it might be possible, wise and well, to send a colony of their children. Four had perished, and these were to be fittingly mourned; but “the conquering heroes come,” and they were to be fittingly welcomed, and as their approach had been heralded, thousands of richly-dressed people thronged the “water front,” and the beautiful city was in gala-day attire. The description of the streets, and fountains, and parks, and statues of gold, and other eye-ravishing objects, are dwelt upon in lavish detail, but “want of space,” and the love of ease, admonish me to “blue pencil” many pages of this fancy fabric.

The superb personality and the gorgeous attire of the people, amazed the practical Leo Bergin. I will here venture a quotation, then again “boil it down.”

He says:—

“The appearance of the people, as they crowd without confusion along and away back the shore line, is most striking. They seem over-tall and very symmetrical in form, and they move as gracefully as trained actors. They have finely-chiselled features, deep, rather large and expressive eyes, slightly bronzed complexions, and in every curious look, gaze, or expression, there is an easy, modest dignity, such as I have never before seen, even among the rarest few. In every face there is a deep and real joy; but of enthusiasm, emotionalism, or sensationalism, there is really none. This passion of the animal has gone, and the pleasures of the intellect have re-moulded the countenance. The face has become the mirror of an exalted soul. On no countenance is there seen gravity, on none hilarity.

“Seeing no sadness, I said, ‘Where are the friends of the four who perished?’

“Alas! under their system none can know father or mother, sister or brother, son or daughter. All are children of the State. In the success of any one, there can be but a common joy; in failure, but a common sorrow.”

What nonsense, to talk of such a society! People who forget their own children? But Herbert Spencer tells us of a people among whom the men had more affection for the children of their sisters than for those of their own wives! Mayhap, Herbert was wrong, for this seems unnatural. Mayhap, Herbert was right, for what we call “natural” is really but custom. However, “maybe” there were “reasons” in that case—experience.

Leo continues:—

“The attire, too, of these people was ‘gorgeous beyond description.’ Array all the royalties, all the nobility, all the Popes and the Cardinals, with all the courtly favorites and all the Rajahs and robber chieftains of all the Indies, and all the flunkies, the fops and the fools of all the capitals, great and small, of the pretentious upper world, and marshal them for comparison in ranks facing these, and they of the upper world would seem but a pitiable show, or at best an amusing burlesque.

“Silks and splendid fabrics, not loud and gay, but rich and rare; jewels resplendent with Nature’s lustre, but worn as modestly as to seem but articles of common use, were present in enormous profusion. For jewels, for articles of personal adornment, for ornaments or trimmings of wearing apparel, gold was too common, cheap and vulgar. In carriages, in furniture, in statuary, in architectural adornments, it was in use by the ton—yes, by the cord. Ye gods, if the Americans knew this!

“Here, as superstition has not blighted, monopoly has not diverted, despotism has not robbed, war has not wasted, vice has not withered, wealth has grown with the ages.

“As our whole party were attired in very modest European dress, we must have appeared rather uncouth to the people, but the absence of apparent curiosity or inquisitiveness, was surprising.”

The notes continue:—

“These people must be adepts in electrical science, for the air was full of ‘floaters,’ or flying machines, each seating one or more persons. They were as thick as blackbirds in a Missouri cornfield.”

He noticed an entire absence of children from the throngs of people, but soon an open space was formed by the crowd falling back, when several thousand “youngsters” of both sexes, and all the tender ages, came marching down the wharf, in charge of a few modest-looking superintendents. As they came to a halt, the people raised their hats in salutation, when the children, seemingly all of one accord, bent a knee in acknowledgment.

The notes, observations, and running comments of the observing Leo are worthy of full perusal, and indeed of preservation, but as I am hurrying on to a definite purpose, brevity seems to be a necessity.

The reception of the party by the City Council and a joint committee from the great college, of which Leo learned that Amoora Oseba was the head, was most impressive, and when the master of ceremonies waved his hand as a signal, there was an unanimous shout of “Welcome home, Oseba! Welcome back to Eurania!”

This was the only noisy demonstration. “Every face,” says the chronicler, “looked respectful, grateful, gratified, and happy, but there were no fire-crackers or bad breath.”

Is not that marvellous? Think of such a people! Think of an occasion of like character in London, New York—ah, ye gods!—in Paris or Berlin! I wonder if this fellow was not spreading it on rather thick?

But, listen:—

“We were escorted to our carriages, one hundred gorgeous electro-motors, literally made of gold and ivory, and adorned with what appeared to be precious stones, but what proved to be common, indeed. We were driven to the temple—and such a temple! The Palace of Westminster, the Vatican, or the Washington Capitol would be ‘nowhere.’”

But I must “boil it down.” He tells us that the ceremony at the temple was “splendid, but brief”; that the reception of Amoora Oseba was sincere, and that the proceedings of the meeting of over five years previous, commissioning him for the perilous journey, were read.

“Resolutions of regret” for the loss of members of the party were passed, and a meeting was appointed at which Amoora Oseba should make his report to a select committee, and through such committee to the people of Eurania and Cavitorus.

Speaking in much praise of the almost depressing dignity of the ceremony, the notes record that at the close of the announcement, the chairman read the commission under which Oseba had acted, and on the performance of which authorised duty he was to report. It read as follows:—

My word! pretty good billet had this Amoora Oseba. No wonder Leo Bergin was captivated by the fellow. But that journey over the “oval,” as he calls it—excuse me—it makes me shiver.

Well, according to the notes, it’s a week before that meeting takes place, a week to be thrown away, to wait. Queer, it seems almost as though I was there. Let’s see if there is anything in his notes to bridge the time.

Yes, here he relates what a thrilling adventure he had in a “soar” over the fifty-story houses in an electric air motor; that the buildings are made of indestructible material; how their steel does not rust; how light their machinery; how beautiful the girls. Ah, yes! And then he says: “It might be nice not to have to ‘ask papa,’ for here no girl has a father, a big brother, or a pretty sister—which may be convenient.” But from the luxury of a mother-in-law, the Shadowas are forever cut off.

“The freedom of association between the sexes,” he says, “is surprising, but the social dignity and decorum are even more surprising. The country, with every inch cultivated, is beautiful, and the aspect of Nature, especially in the night, with the moon sweeping along the opposite rim of the earth, the sweeping of the sun along the horizon, the reflection of light from unknown sources, the wonderful play of electric phenomena, are too awe-inspiring for description.

“Gold is more plentiful than iron is with us, and platinum more plentiful than silver;” and he accounts for the great quantity of these heavy metals on scientific theories. “As for diamonds and other precious stones, it is only a matter of ‘grinding;’ but the ‘brilliants’ are more beautiful than with us, owing to the peculiarities of the light.”

What fairy tales! And yet we don’t “know.” Nature tells some strange stories. Yes, and so do people. There is something amusing or interesting [Pg 48]
[Pg 49]in the notes of every day, but let the week slide, for we want to hear the report—we want to hear what Amoora Oseba thinks of the people of the “upper crust.”

Possibly.

Here we come to that great meeting. Let’s get down to date again, and Leo Bergin’s notes.

He says:—

“Eurania, Cavitorus,
“October 5th.

“‘To-morrow,’ yes.

“To-morrow! the great event opens. How like a dream it all seems. But,

“Ah, this dreamy reverie! It brings back the vanished years, for

when I began this record, at sea, on board the S.S. Irene. I wonder if Sir Marmaduke ever thinks of me. If he does, he thinks me—well, it doesn’t much matter now. He was a good sort, however, and I will never forget him.”

Kind of you, Leo Bergin. By golly! that fellow has a heart, and a head, too, for that matter, for he is rarely far wrong. He continues:—

“Yes, he was a generous old soul. Rich, good-natured and careless, but just. He read everything, but—well, perhaps if I had read as much as he, I would have thought and known as little.”

Leo Bergin, I swear I had rather you had forgotten me. That’s a nice way to speak of an absent friend. There is evidently a coolness between us. Yes, a cool belt, so I will keep my temper.

Proceed, Leo:—

“Had a note from Venesta to-day, and I don’t know whether it gives me more pleasure or sadness. Think of courting a girl, who never had a father or a mother, a sister or a brother! Daughter of the State! Marry the daughter of the State! Ye gods, what a mother-in-law!

“I have idled away the day, and how can I make amends, save by confession and the forming of new resolutions? Well,

“Eurania, Cavitorus,
“October 6th.

“How balmy the air! How grandly the old sun sweeps along the rim of this great world! For one such scene New York would give a ‘million,’ and every eye would dim with watching the face of the flaming wheel, and every neck would ache, and every soul would shudder with awe. But, would not the Shadowas like to see Old Sol passing over their heads every twenty-four hours, and give them three-hundred and sixty-five days during the year, instead of having him whirl about their heads, hip high, giving one night seven months long, and but a hundred and sixty days of variable length? But it’s all in being used to things.

“Well, I must off to the meeting. I am invited to the platform, and I shall have plenty to record this evening, for to-day is nineteen hours long. Oh, how weird!

“Later, evening.

“What o’clock is it? I don’t know. I know it was nineteen hours after the old sun first flitted around Mt. Lena, that it finally retired, and how can a ‘new chum’ keep track of his running on such erratic lines? To make it more confusing, this is the self same old sun that mine eyes have been looking upon for, lo! these thirty wasted years. Who would have thought that sedate old watchman could ever play such pranks? Then, too, on the same little old world! Am I waking? Am I sane, or is this but a hideous delirium?

“I feel sure that all is unreal, that I am the sport of some jesting destiny—but I will play my part; then, if the vision be not a mockery, I will not have wasted too much time.

“What an eventful day! Yet, as long as it has been, or even seems to have been, every hour has been crowded with bewildering incidents—only bewildering to me, however, for how unlike the hurry, the confusion, the bustle, the noise and hilarity seen on such occasions on the upper crust! How different from a horse-race in England, an election-day in France, or a Fourth of July in America!

“What a happy, orderly, handsome, and amiable people, these. Even their Deities are amiable. Their temples of worship breathe, not only hope for the future, but appreciation for the blessings of to-day. With them, it is not a crown of glory afterwhile, but a living joy. Without the sorrow of Gautama, the gods of this under-world are as loving and as amiable. But why should not the Deities be amiable?

“‘God made man,’ the preacher saith,
‘From a handful of dust, by a whiff of breath.’
‘No,’ say the sages, ‘man made God,
From nothing at all, by creative nod;
Organ for organ, and limb for limb,
In the image of man, created he Him.