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11 - Baron Trump's Marvellous Underground Journey · Classic Adventure Books - Daily

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  Speaker 1: Chapter eleven, Pleasant days passed among the Miccamenckees, and wonderful
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  Speaker 1: things seen by us, The Spectral Garden and a description
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  Speaker 1: of it, Our meeting with Damoisel Blowstone, and what came
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  Speaker 1: of it. From now on, Lord Bulgar and I made
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  Speaker 1: ourselves perfectly at home among the Macamckees. One of the
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  Speaker 1: royal barges was placed at our disposal, and when we
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  Speaker 1: were tired of walking about and gazing at the wonders
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  Speaker 1: of this beautiful city of the underworld, we stepped aboard
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  Speaker 1: our barge and were rowed hither and thither on the
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  Speaker 1: Glassy River. And if I had not seen it myself,
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  Speaker 1: I never would have believed that any kind of shell
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  Speaker 1: fish could ever be taught to be so obliging as
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  Speaker 1: to swim to the surface and offer one of their
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  Speaker 1: huge claws for our dinner, politely dropping it in our
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  Speaker 1: hand the moment we laid hold of it. On one
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  Speaker 1: of the river banks, I noticed a long row of
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  Speaker 1: wooden compartments, looking very much like a grocer's bins. But
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  Speaker 1: you may think how amused Bulgar and I were upon
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  Speaker 1: coming closer to this long row of little houses, to
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  Speaker 1: find that they were turtle nests, and that quite a
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  Speaker 1: number of the turtles were sitting comfortably in their nests,
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  Speaker 1: busy laying their eggs, which, let me assure you, with
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  Speaker 1: the most dainty tidbits I ever tasted, I think I
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  Speaker 1: informed you that the river flowing through Gaullalland was fairly
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  Speaker 1: swarming with delicious fish, the carp and sole being particularly
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  Speaker 1: delicate in flavor. And, knowing as I did, what a
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  Speaker 1: tender hearted folk the Macamenkes are, I had been not
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  Speaker 1: a little puzzled in my mind as to how they
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  Speaker 1: had ever been able to summon up courage enough to
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  Speaker 1: drive a spear into one of these fish, which were
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  Speaker 1: as tame and playful as a lot of kittens or puppies,
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  Speaker 1: and followed our bargs hither and thither, snapping at the
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  Speaker 1: food we tossed to them, and leaping into the air,
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  Speaker 1: where they glistened like burnished silver as the white lights
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  Speaker 1: sparkled on their scales. But the mystery was solved one
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  Speaker 1: day when I saw one of the fishermen decoying a
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  Speaker 1: score or more fish into a sort of pen, shut
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  Speaker 1: off from the river by a wire netting. Scarcely had
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  Speaker 1: he closed the gates, when to my amazement, I saw
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  Speaker 1: the fish, one after the other, come to the surface
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  Speaker 1: and float about on their side stone dead. This little
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  Speaker 1: baron explained, the man in charge is the death chamber.
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  Speaker 1: Hidden at the bottom of this dark pool lie several
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  Speaker 1: electric eels of great size and power. And when our
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  Speaker 1: people went a fresh supper of fish, we simply opened
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  Speaker 1: these gates and decoy a shoal of them inside by
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  Speaker 1: tossing their favorite food into the water. The executioners are
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  Speaker 1: awaiting them, and in a few instants the fish, while
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  Speaker 1: enjoying their repast and suspecting no harm, are painlessly put
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  Speaker 1: to death, as thou hast seen. One part of the
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  Speaker 1: city of the Transparent Folk which attracted Bulgar and me
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  Speaker 1: very much was the Royal Gardens. It was a weird
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  Speaker 1: and uncanny place, and upon my first visit I walked
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  Speaker 1: through its paths and beneath its arbors, upon my toes
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  Speaker 1: and with bated breath, as you might steal into some
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  Speaker 1: bit of fairyland, looking anxiously from side to side, as
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  Speaker 1: if at every step you expected some sprite or goblin
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  Speaker 1: to trip you up with a tough spider web, or
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  Speaker 1: brush your cheeks with their cold and satiny wings. Friends,
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  Speaker 1: you must first be told that with the loss of
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  Speaker 1: sunshine and the open air, the flowers and shrubs and
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  Speaker 1: vines of this underground world gradually parted with their perfumes
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  Speaker 1: and colors, their leaves and petals and stems and tendrils,
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  Speaker 1: growing paler and paler in hue, like lovelorn maids whose
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  Speaker 1: sweethearts had never come back from the war. Month by month,
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  Speaker 1: the dark greens, the blush pinks, the golden yellows, and
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  Speaker 1: the deep blues pined away, longing for the lost sunshine
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  Speaker 1: and the wooing breeze they loved so dearly, until at
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  Speaker 1: last transformation was complete, and there they all stood or hung,
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  Speaker 1: bleached to utter whiteness, like those fantastic clumps of flowers
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  Speaker 1: and wreaths of vines which the feathery snow of April
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  Speaker 1: builds in the leafless shrubs and trees. I cannot tell you,
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  Speaker 1: dear friends, what a strange feeling came over me as
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  Speaker 1: I stepped within this spectral garden, where ghost like vines
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  Speaker 1: clung in fantastic forms and figures to the dark trellises,
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  Speaker 1: and where tall lilies whiter than the down of eider
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  Speaker 1: stood bolt upright like spirits doomed to eternal silence, denied
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  Speaker 1: even the speech of perfume, and were huge clusters of
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  Speaker 1: snowy chrysanthemums, fluffy feathery forms seemed, pressing their soft bodies
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  Speaker 1: together like groups of banished celestials, in a sort of
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  Speaker 1: silent despair, as they felt the warmth and glow of sunlight,
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  Speaker 1: slowly and gradually quitting their souls. Where lower down great
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  Speaker 1: roses with snowy petals whiter than the sea shells, hung motionless,
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  Speaker 1: bursting open with eager effort, as if listening for some
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  Speaker 1: signal that would dissolve the spell put upon them and
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  Speaker 1: give them back the sunshine and with it their color
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  Speaker 1: and their perfume. Where lower still beds of violets, bleached
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  Speaker 1: white as fleecy clouds, seemed wrapt in silent sorrow at
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  Speaker 1: loss of the heavenly perfume which had been theirs on earth.
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  Speaker 1: Where above the lily's heads shot long, slender spectral stalks
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  Speaker 1: of sunflowers, almost invisible, loaded at their ends with clusters
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  Speaker 1: of snowy flowers, thus spended like white faces looking down
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  Speaker 1: through the silent air and waiting, waiting for the sunshine
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  Speaker 1: that never came, and higher still, all over and above,
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  Speaker 1: these spectral flowers, entwining and in wrapping and falling, festooned
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  Speaker 1: and garland wies, crept and ran like unto long lines
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  Speaker 1: of escaping phantoms, ghostly vines with ghostly blossoms, bent and
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  Speaker 1: twisted and wrapped and coiled into a thousand strange and
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  Speaker 1: fantastic forms and figures which the white light, with its
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  Speaker 1: inky shadows, made alive and half human, so that movement
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  Speaker 1: and voice alone were needful to make this garden seem
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  Speaker 1: peopled with sorrowing sprites, banished to these subterranean chambers for
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  Speaker 1: strange misdeeds done on Earth, and condemned to wait ten
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  Speaker 1: thousand years ere sunlight and their color and their perfume
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  Speaker 1: should be given back to them again. While strolling through
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  Speaker 1: the Royal gardens one day, Bulgar suddenly gave a low
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  Speaker 1: cry and bounded on ahead, as if his eyes had
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  Speaker 1: fallen upon the familiar form of some dear friend. When
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  Speaker 1: I came up with him, he was crouching beside the
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  Speaker 1: damosel Glowstone, who seated on one of the garden benches,
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  Speaker 1: was caressing Bulgar's head and ears with one of her
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  Speaker 1: soft hands with its filmy like skin, while the other
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  Speaker 1: held its black fan pressed tightly against her bosom. She
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  Speaker 1: looked up at me with her crystal eyes and smiled faintly.
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  Speaker 1: As I drew near thou seest little Baron, she murmured,
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  Speaker 1: Lord Bulgar and I have not forgotten each other since
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  Speaker 1: our presentation at court. I had been going through and
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  Speaker 1: through my mind in search of some reason for Bulgar's
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  Speaker 1: sudden affection for Damosel Glowstone, but had found none. I
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  Speaker 1: was the more perplexed as she was, but the maid
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  Speaker 1: of honor, while the fair Princess Cristelina sat on the
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  Speaker 1: very steps of the throne. But I said nothing save
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  Speaker 1: to reply that I was greatly pleased to see it,
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  Speaker 1: and to add that where Bulgar's love went, mine was
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  Speaker 1: sure to follow, O, little Baron, if I could but
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  Speaker 1: believe that sighed the fair Damosel, thou mayst, said I, indeed,
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  Speaker 1: thou mayst. Then if I may, little Baron, she replied,
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  Speaker 1: I will, and Prithee come and sit beside me here
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  Speaker 1: only till I bid thee look not through me. Dost
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  Speaker 1: promise I do, fair Damosel, was my answer, and thou
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  Speaker 1: Lord Bulgar, lie there at my feet, she continued, And
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  Speaker 1: keep thy wise eyes fixed upon me in thy keen
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  Speaker 1: ears wide open, little Baron. If both thine and our
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  Speaker 1: worlds were filled with sorrowing hearts, mine would be the
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  Speaker 1: heaviest of them all. Listen, oh, listen to the sad,
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  Speaker 1: sad tale of the sorrowing maid with a speck in
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  Speaker 1: her heart. And when thou knowest all, give me of
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  Speaker 1: thy wisdom. End of chapter eleven.