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

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  Chapter nineteen begins with something about the little sodopsys, but branches off on another
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  subject, to wit the silent song of singing fingers. The fair maid of
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  the city of Silver, Beryl Brow, is kind enough to enlighten me on
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  a second point, and he takes occasion to pay Vulgar a very high compliment,
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  which of course he deserved. The longer I stayed among the pseudopses,
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  the more did I become convinced that they were the happiest, the lightest hearted,
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  the most contented human beings that I had met in all my travels.
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  If it were possible for the links of a long chain suspended over a chasm
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  to be living, thinking beans for a short while, it seems to me
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  they would hang together in the most perfect accord, for each link would discover
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  that he was no better than his neighbor, and that the welfare of all
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  the other links depended upon him in his upon theirs. So it was with
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  the former folk, having no sense of sight, they do no such thing
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  as envy, and all hands were alike when reached out for a greeting.
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  I was amazed at times to see how they could feel my approach When I
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  would be ten or fifteen feet away from them, and I often amused myself
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  by trying to steal by one of them in the street, But no,
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  it was impossible. A hand would invariably be held out for a greeting.
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  Little by little they got over their distrust of me and made up their minds
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  that I had told them the truth when I said that no dancing inspect was
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  forever following at my heels. One of the most interesting sights was to see
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  a group of Sudopsy children at play, building houses with silver blocks, or
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  playing a game very much like our dominoes. I noticed that they kept no
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  tally such wonderful memories had they that it was quite unnecessary. At first,
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  the children were so frightened upon feeling of me that they fled with terror pictured
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  upon their little faces. Their parents explained to me that I made very much
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  the same impression upon them as if I should feel of a person who skin
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  was as rough as a sea urchin's. When at last I succeeded in coaxing
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  several of them to my side, I was astounded to see one little fellow,
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  who had by chance pressed his tiny hand against my watch pocket, sprang
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  away from me, terror stricken, he had felt it ticked, and didn't
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  stop running until he had reached his mother's side. His wonderful tail that the
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  little baron carried some strange animal round his pocket soon caused a crowd to collect
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  about me, and it was some time before I could persuade even the parents
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  that the watch was not alive, and that it was not the little animal's
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  heart which they felt beating. On one occasion, when a little soodopsy was
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  sitting on my lap, with its tiny arm twined affectionately around my neck,
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  I happened to make some remark to Bulger, when, to my amazement,
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  the child sprang out of my arms and darted away, with a look of
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  terror upon his little face. What had I done to him? Why?
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  It seems that by the merest chance, his tiny hand had been pressed against
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  my throat, and that he had been terrified by feeling the strange vibration caused
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  by my voice. Immediately, the report was spread about that the little baron
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  carried another little baron around in his throat, that any one could feel him
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  if I would only consent. It took me a long while to convince them
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  that what they felt was not another little baron, but merely the vibration caused
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  by my expelling my breath in a way peculiar to the people of the upper
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  world. But all the same, I was obliged to say many hundreds of
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  useless things to Bulgar in order to give their little hands a chance to feel
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  something so wonderful. From the little I have told you about the names of
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  the former folk, dear friends, you have no doubt understood that their names
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  took their rise from some physical quality, defect or peculiarity. Besides the names
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  I have already mentioned, I remember sharp chin, long nose, silk ears,
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  smooth palms, big knuckle, nail off, hammer fist, soft touch,
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  hole in cheek or hole in chin, dimple, crooked hair, cowlic
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  and so on and so on. But to my amazement, one day,
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  when asking the name of a young girl whose long and delicate fingers had attracted
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  my attention, I was informed that her name was singing fingers, or possibly
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  I might translate it music fingers. I had noticed that thus Pseudopsis had some
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  idea of music, for the children often amused themselves dancing, and while so
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  engaged beat time with their finger tips on each other's cheeks or foreheads. But
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  I was completely in the dark as to what they meant by singing fingers,
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  or why the young girls should have been so named. Hence I was greatly
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  pleased to hear the maiden's mother ask me whether I would like to feel one
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  of her daughter's songs, as she termed it. Upon my acquiescing, the
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  mother approached me and proceeded to roll up the sleeves of my coat until she
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  had laid my arms bare to the elbow. Then she took my arms and
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  clasped them across my breast, one above the other. Bulger watched this proceeding
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  with somewhat of displeasure in his eyes. He had half an idea that these
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  silent people might play some hurtful trick upon his little master, But my smile
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  soon disarmed his suspicion. Singing fingers now drew near, and as her sweet
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  face, with its sightless eyes, turned full upon me, I could hardly
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  keep back the tears. And yet why grieve for any one who seemed to
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  be so perfectly happy? A smile played around her dainty little mouth, disclosing
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  her tiny, silvery white teeth like so many real pearls, and her bosom
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  rose and fell quickly, sending forth a faint breathing sound. She looked so
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  like a radiant child of some of the world, that before I thought,
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  I cried out, speak, oh, speak, beautiful child. In an
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  instant she drew back, affrightened, for the sudden vibration of the air had
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  startled her. But I reached out and touched her hand to give her to
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  understand that she need fear nothing. And then she drew near to me again.
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  Suddenly her beautiful hands, with their long, frailed, delicate fingers,
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  were lifted into the air, and she began to sway her body and to
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  wave her hands in gentle and graceful motions, as if keeping time with some
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  music. Gradually she drew nearer to me, and ever and anon her silken
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  finger tips touched my hands or arms as if they were a keyboard, and
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  she was about to begin to execute a soft and dainty bit of music.
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  I noticed that her fingers had some delightful perfume upon them. Now, fast
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  and faster, the gentle taps rain upon me with rhythmic regularity. They soothed
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  me, they thrilled me, They reached my heart, as if they were
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  the sweet notes of a flute or the soft tones of a singer's voice.
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  The maiden is really singing to me. It seems to me that I can
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  understand what she is saying, or rather thinking, as her dainty finger tips
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  fairly fly hither and thither, and I can hear her low breathing grow louder
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  and louder. Suddenly she leaves my hands and arms, and I feel her
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  gentle tapping on my cheeks and brow so gently, oh so gently, and
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  soothingly her fingers touch me that at last they feel like rose leaves dragged across
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  my face. The sensation is so delightful, so like the soft touch of
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  sleep to weary eyes, that I drop off in good earnest. And when
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  after a moment or so I opened my eyes, there sat the smiling form
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  of folk waiting for me to awake. And there stood the radiant visage,
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  singing fingers in front of me, childlike waiting to be commended. And so
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  you see, dear friends, that it is not so hard to be happy
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  after all, if you only set about it in the right way. The
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  former folk seemed to have set about it in the right way. Judging by
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  results, and they are the only things we have to judge by. Some
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  men will fish all day and not have a bite, and some people will
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  try their whole lives to catch happiness and not get any more than a nibble.
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  They don't use the right kind of fate. Let him try a kind
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  act, a live one. There was something I wanted to ask of the
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  learned barrel brow, So the next call I made on him, I put
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  this question to him, is it possible, learned master, that thy people
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  have absolutely no guide, no overseer, no rulers. The great scholar of
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  the former folks seized reading the four books which lay opened before him, one
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  under each hand and one under each foot, as I handed him my silver
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  tablet, Little baron was his reply. If there were only a bramble bush
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  big enough for all you people of the upper world to jump into, and
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  if you could only get rid of your ears, too, you would soon
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  be rid of your rulers, who oppress you, who prey upon you,
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  For no one would have any desire to be a ruler if there was no
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  one left to look at him, and if he couldn't hear what the flatterers
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  said about him, vanity is the soil that rulers spring from, as the
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  mushrooms spring from the rich loam of our dark caverns. They pretend that it
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  is the exercise of power that they are so fond of. Believe them not,
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  it is the gratification of their vanity, and nothing else. If it
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  were only in thy power to say to every man who itched to be a
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  ruler, will and good brother a ruler, thou shalt be, but bear
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  in mind, weak man, that when thou hast on thy gaudy uniform and
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  mounted thy gaily caparison steed, when thou ridest at the head of troop and
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  cavalcade, with ten thousand armed men following thee on foot as slaves their master,
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  and the plaudits of the foolish multitude rend the air, no eye shall
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  witness the splendor of thy triumph. No ear catch a sound of the deafening
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  cheers. Take my word for it, little Baron, No one would want
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  to be a ruler any more. Where there are no rulers, Little Baron,
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  continue the learned barrel brow, there can be no followers. Where there
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  are no followers, there will be no quarreling. When it becomes necessary in
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  our nation, we form the Great Circle for deliberation. Each man writes out
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  what he thinks on his tablet. Then the opinions are read and counted,
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  and the majority rules. But we form the great circle only in times of
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  urgent need. Generally speaking, the smaller circles answer all the purposes. In
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  fact, the family circle is in most cases quite sufficient. I touched first
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  barrel Brow's heart in token of my gratitude for the many things which he had
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  taught me, and then the back of his head to bid him good night.
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  You may imagine his and my delight, dear friends, when the wise
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  bulgar raised himself on his hind legs and with his right paw also thank the
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  learned barrel Brow, and then bade him good night by a light tap on
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  the back of his head. Fortunate, the traveler, wrote, the learned
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  pseudopsy, attended by so wise and watchful a companion. True, like a
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  child, he goes on all fours, but by so doing he brings his
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  heart and his brains on the same level. The only way for a man
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  to wear them if he would do his fellow creatures any good. The trouble
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  with thy people in the upper world. Little Baron is that they think too
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  much. They clasp minds instead of clasping hands. They send messengers with gifts
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  instead of giving themselves. They hire people to dance for them, to sing
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  for them, to be merry for them. They will not be satisfied until
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  they have hired people to help them. Be sorry to whom they may say,
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  my friend is dead, I loved him. Weep three whole days for
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  him. End Chapter nineteen