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31 - Baron Trump's Marvellous Underground Journey · Classic Adventure Books Library

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  Chapter thirty one, in which you read of the glorious caverns of white marble
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  fronting on the wonderful river in the tropics of the underworld. How we came
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  upon a solitary wanderer on the banks of the river, my conversation with him,
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  and my joy at finding myself in the land of the rattle brains,
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  or happy forgetters. Brief description of them. With every turn in the winding
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  way that skirted the white shores of this wonderful stream, its swarms of light
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  emitting animals lented in new beauty. For as the day advanced, if I
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  may so express it, they lifted their glowing bodies nearer and nearer to the
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  surface, until now the river shone like molten silver, and as the sheer
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  walls of rock on the opposite bank held set in them vast slabs of mica.
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  The effect was that these gigantic natural mirrors reflected the glowing stream with startling
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  fidelity, and through the flood of soft light, in dazzling shimmer, against
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  the fantastic portals of the white marble caverns on this side of the stream.
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  It was a scene never to forget. And again again I paused in silent
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  wonder to feast my eyes upon some newly discovered beauty. Now for the first
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  time I noted that every white marble basin of cove and inlet was filled with
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  a different glow, according to the nature of the tiny phosphorescent animals which happened
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  to fill its waters, one being a delicate pink, another a glorious red,
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  the third a deep, rich purple, the fourth a soft blue,
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  the fifth a golden yellow, and so on, the charm of each tent
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  being greatly enhanced by the snowy whiteness of these marble basins, through which long
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  lines of curious fish, scaled in hues of polished gold and silver, swam
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  slowly along, turning up their glorious sides to catch the full splendor of the
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  light reflected from the mica mirrors. And now the chilly breath of King Galadus's
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  domain no longer filled the air. I stood in the tropics of the underworld,
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  so to speak. And but one thing was lacking to make my enjoyment
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  of this fair region complete, and that was some one to share it with
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  me. True Bulgar had an idea of its beauty, for he testified his
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  happiness at being once more in a warm land, by executing some mad capers
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  for my amusement, and by scampering along the shore of the glowing river and
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  barking at the stately fish as they slowly fanned the water with their many colored
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  fins. But I must admit that I longed for the Princess Shnibouleh to keep
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  me company. But it was a rash wish, for the warm air would
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  have thrown her into convulsions of fear, and she would have preferred to meet
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  her death in the cool river rather than attempt to breathe such a fiery atmosphere.
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  By this time I had advanced several miles along the white shores of the
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  glowing stream, and feeling somewhat fatigued, I was about to sit down on
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  the jutting edge of a natural bench of rock, which seemed almost placed on
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  the river ranks by human hands, for human forms to rest upon and watch
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  the wonderful play of tints and hues in this wide, sweeping inlet. When,
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  to my amazement, I saw that a human creature was already sitting there.
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  His eyes were mixed upon the water, and methought that his face,
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  which was gentle and placid, wore a tired look. Certainly, he was
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  plunged into such deep meditation that he either took or feigned to take no notice
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  of my approach. Bulgar was inclined to dash forward and attract his attention by
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  a string of ear splitting barks. But I shook my head. This wander
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  along the glowing stream of day wore rather a graceful cloak like garment, woven
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  of some substance that shimmered in the light, and so I concluded that it
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  must be a mineral wool. His head was bare, and so were his
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  legs to the knees, his feet being shod with white metal sandals, tied
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  on with what looked like leathern thongs. All and all, he had a
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  friendly, though somewhat peculiar look about him, and his attitude struck me as
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  being that of a person either plunged into deep thought or possibly listening for some
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  anxiously expected signal. At any rate, Accustomed as I was to meet all
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  sorts of people on my travels in the four corners of the globe, I
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  determined to make bold enough to interrupt the gentleman's meditations and wish him good morrow.
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  Whom have I the pleasures meeting in this beautiful section of the world within
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  a world. The man looked at me in a dazed sort of way and
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  replied, I really don't know. I'm happy to say, but sir,
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  thy name, I insisted, forgot it years ago, was his remarkable answer.
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  But surely, sir, I exclaimed rather testily, or not the sole
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  inhabitant of this beautiful underworld. Thou hast kinsman wife family, A gentle stranger.
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  He replied, in slow and measured tones. There are people farther along
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  the shore, and they are good, dear souls, although I have forgotten
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  their names, and I have to a very faint recollection that two of these
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  people are sons of mine. Stop no a. Their names are gone from
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  me too. I forgot them the day my own name slipped from my mind.
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  And as he uttered these words, he threw his head back with a
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  sudden jerk, and I heard a strange click inside of it, as if
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  something had slipped from its place, And that instant, a mysterious expression used
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  by that master of masters, don fume, flashed through my mind. Rattlebrains,
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  Yes, that was it. And now I felt sure that I was
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  standing in the presence of one of the curious folk inhabiting the world within a
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  world to whom Don Fume had given the strange name of Rattlebrain's or happy Forgetters.
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  I was so delighted that I could barely keep myself from rushing up to
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  this gentle visaged and mild mannered person whose head had just given forth the sharp
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  click, and grasping him by the hand. But I feared to shock him
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  by such a friendly greeting, and so I contented myself with crying out,
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  Sir, thou seest before thee none other than the famous traveler Baron Sebastian von
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  Trump. But to my great amazement and greater chagrin, he simply turned his
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  strange eyes with the far away look upon me for an instant, and then
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  resumed his contemplation of the beautifully tinted sheet of water as if I had and
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  opened by mouth. It was the most extraordinary treatment that I had experienced since
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  my descent into the underworld, and I was upon the point of resenting it
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  as became a true knight, and especially of Van Trump. When don Fum's
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  brief description of the rattle brains are happy forgetters flitted through my mind, said
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  he. By the exercise of their strong wills. They have been busy for
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  ages, striving to unload their brains of the to them now useless stock of
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  knowledge accumulated by their ancestors. And the natural consequence has been that the brains
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  of these curious folk, who call themselves the happy forgetters, relieved of all
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  labor and strain of thought, have absolutely shrunken, rather than increased in size,
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  so that with many of the happy forgetters, their brains are like the
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  shriveled kernel of a last year's nut, and give forth a sharp click when
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  they move their heads suddenly with a jerk, as is often their wont for
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  they take great pride in proving to the listener that they deserve the name of
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  rattle brain. Nor do I need remind the old reader. Concluded Don Fum
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  in his celebrated work on the World within a World, that the chiefest among
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  the happy forgetters is the man whose head gives forth the loudest and sharpest click,
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  For he it is who has forgotten most. You can have but a
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  faint idea. Dear friends of my delight at the prospect of spending some time
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  among these curious people, people who look with absolute dread upon knowledge as the
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  one thing necessary to get rid of before happiness can enter the human heart.
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  No joy can equal the happy forgetters, when, upon clasping a friend's hand,
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  he finds that he has forgotten his very name. And no day is
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  well spent in this land at the close of which the inhabitant may not exclaim
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  this day I succeeded in forgetting something that I knew yesterday. At last,
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  the happy forgetter rose from his seat and calmly walked away, without so much
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  as wishing me good day. But I was resolved not to be so easily
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  gotten rid of, so I called after him in a loud voice in vulgar
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  following my example, raised a racket at his heels, whereupon he faced about
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  and remarked, BEG, pardon, I had quite forgotten thee I'm happy to
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  say, and thy name too, I've forgotten that. Let me see art
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  thou al radiate one of the animals in the water. I was more than
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  half inclined to lose my temper at this slur, classing me a backboned animal
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  with a mere jelly fish. But under all the circumstances, I thought it
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  best to control myself, for I could well imagine that from the size of
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  my head and the utter absence of all click inside of it, I was
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  not destined to be a very welcome visitor among the happy forgetters. And therefore,
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  swallowing my injured feelings, I made a very low bow and begged this
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  curious gentleman to be kind enough to conduct me to his people, among whom
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  I wished to bide for a few days. End of Chapter thirty one