Baron Trump's Marvellous Underground Journey
sides of columns, and from the corners of cupolas and minarets, here and
there and everywhere hung silver lamps of more than Oriental beauty of
form and finish, all with their never-dying tongues of flame sending
forth a soft though unsteady light to fall upon sightless eyes!
But yet these countless flames, by the aid of which I was enabled to
gaze upon the splendor of this city of silver palaces, were life if not
light to the Soodopsies, for they warmed these vast subterranean depths
and filled them with a deliciously soft and strangely balmy air.
And yet to think that Bulger and I were the only two living creatures to
be able to look upon this scene of almost celestial beauty and radiance!
It made me sad, and plunged me into such a fit of deep abstraction that
it required a second gentle tug of Long Thumbs’ hand to bring me to
myself.
As we crossed the bridge and entered the city proper, I was delighted to
note that the streets and open squares were ornamented with hundred of
statues all in solid silver, and that they represented specimens of a
race of great beauty of person; and then it occurred to me how fortunate
it was that the Soodopsies could not gaze upon these images of their
ancestors and thus become living witnesses of their own woful
falling-away from the former physical grace of their race.
Now, like human ants that they were, the Formifolk began to swarm forth
from their dwellings on every side of the city, and my keen ear caught
the low shuffling sound of their bare feet over the silver streets as
they closed in about us, their arms flashing in the light and their
faces lined with strange emotions as they learned of the arrival among
them of two creatures from the upper world. They were all clad, men and
women alike, in silk garments of a chestnut brown, and I at once
concluded that they drew this material from the same sources as the
Mikkamenkies, for, dear friends, you must not get an idea that the
Formifolk were not well deserving of the name which Don Fum had bestowed
upon them. They were genuine human ants and, except when sleeping,
always at work.
It was true that since their blindness had come upon them they had not
been able to add a single column or archway to the Silver City, but in
all the ordinary concerns of life they were quite as industrious as
ever, chasing, carving, chiselling, planting, weaving, knitting, and
doing a thousand and one things that you and I with our two good eyes
would find it hard to accomplish.
I had made known to Long Thumbs the fact that Bulger and I were both
very tired and weary from our long tramp, and that we craved to have
some refreshment set before us, and then to be permitted to go to rest
at once, promising that after we had had several hours’ good sleep we
would take the greatest pleasure in being presented to the worthy
inhabitants of the Silver City.
It was astonishing with what rapidity this request of mine spread from
man to man. Long Thumbs made it known to two at the same time, and these
two to four, and these four to eight, and these eight to sixteen, and so
on. You see it wouldn’t take long at that rate to tell a million.
Like magic the Formifolk disappeared from the streets, and in a sort of
orderly confusion faded from my sight. Bulger and I were right glad to
be conducted to a silver bed-chamber, where the traveller’s every want
seemed to be anticipated. The only thing that bothered us was, we had
not been accustomed to keep the light burning upon going to bed, and
this made us both a little wakeful at first; but we were too tired to
let it keep us from dropping off after a few moments, for the mattress
was soft and springy enough to satisfy any one, and I’m sure that no one
could have complained that the house wasn’t quiet enough.
CHAPTER XVII
IN WHICH YOU READ, DEAR FRIENDS, SOMETHING ABOUT A LIVE ALARM CLOCK
AND A SOODOPSY BATHER AND RUBBER.—OUR FIRST BREAKFAST IN THE CITY
OF SILVER.—A NEW WAY TO CATCH FISH WITHOUT HURTING THEIR
FEELINGS.—HOW THE STREETS AND HOUSES WERE NUMBERED, AND WHERE THE
SIGNBOARDS WERE.—A VERY ORIGINAL LIBRARY IN WHICH BOOKS NEVER GET
DOG-EARED.—HOW VELVET SOLES ENJOYED HER FAVORITE POETS.—I AM
PRESENTED TO THE LEARNED BARREL BROW, WHO PROCEEDS TO GIVE ME HIS
VIEWS OF THE UPPER WORLD.—THEY ENTERTAINED ME AMAZINGLY AND MAY
INTEREST YOU.
I can’t tell you, dear friends, exactly how long Bulger and I slept, but
it must have been a good while, for when I was awakened I felt
thoroughly refreshed. I say awakened, for I was awakened by a gentle
tapping on the back of my hand—six taps.
At first I thought I was dreaming, but, upon rubbing my eyes, I saw
standing by the side of my bed one of the Soodopsies who, feeling me
stir, took up his tablet and wrote as follows:—
“My name is Tap Hard. I am a clock. There is a score of us. We keep the
time for our people by counting the swing of the pendulum in the Time
House. It swings about as fast as we breathe. There are one hundred
breaths to a minute and one hundred minutes to an hour. Our day is
divided into six hours’ worktime and six hours’ sleeptime. It is now the
rising hour. If thou wilt be pleased to rise, one of our people from the
Health House will rub all the tired out of thy limbs.”
I touched Tap Hard’s heart to thank him, and made haste to scramble out
of bed. Now, for the first time, I looked about the silver chamber in
which I had slept. On silver shelves lay silver combs and silver shears
and silver knives; on a silver stand stood a silver ewer within a silver
basin; on silver pegs hung silken towels, while spread upon the silver
floor lay soft, silken rugs, and above and around on ceiling and walls
the tongues of flame were a thousand times repeated in the panels of
burnished silver.
I had made trial of all sorts of Oriental rubber and bath attendants in
my day, but the silent little Soodopsy who laved and rubbed and tapped
and stroked me exceeded them all in dexterity, added to which was a new
charm, for I was not obliged to listen to long and senseless tales of
adventure and intrigue, but was left quite alone to my own thoughts.
Bulger was also treated to a sponging and a rubbing—a luxury which he
had not enjoyed since we had left Castle Trump.
My toilet was no sooner completed than Long Thumbs made his appearance
to inquire after my health and to superintend the serving of my
breakfast, which consisted of a piece of most delicate boiled fish
flanked with oysters of delicious flavor, and trimmed with slices of
those monstrous mushrooms which I had eaten among the Mikkamenkies, the
whole served in a beautiful silver dish on a silver tray with silver
eating utensils.
Remembering the strange way in which the fish were caught and killed in
the Land of the Mikkamenkies, I was curious to know how the Soodopsies
managed it, for I knew enough of them to know that the sensation of
anything struggling for its life in their hands would suffice to throw
them into fits of great suffering, to fill their gentle hearts with
nameless terror.
“At the end of one of the many corridors leading out of our city,”
explained Long Thumbs, “there is a rocky chamber which was called by our
ancestors Uphaslok, or the Death Hole, because any being which breathes
its air for a few moments is sure to die. So they closed it up forever,
leaving only a small pipe projecting through the door; but, strange to
say, those who breathe this air suffer no pain whatever, but presently
drop off into a pleasant dream, and, unless they be rescued, would, of
course, never wake again. Now, as our laws forbid us to cause any pain
to the most insignificant creature, it occurred to our ancestors that by
means of a long pipe they could turn this poisoned air into the river
whenever they wanted a supply of fish for food. This they did, and,
strange to say, the moment the fish felt the gas bubbling into the
river, they at once swam up to the mouth of the pipe, and struggled with
each other for a chance to catch the deadly bubbles as they left its
mouth, so pleasant a sensation do they cause as they gradually plunge,
the creature breathing them into his last sleep. And in this way it is
we are enabled to feed upon the fish in our river, without breaking the
law of the land.”
I began to understand that I had fallen in with a very original and
interesting folk, but Bulger was not altogether pleased with them, for
several reasons, as I soon observed. In the first place he couldn’t
accustom himself to the cold and glassy look of their eyes, and in the
next he was a bit jealous of their wonderfully keen scent—a sense which
with them was so strong that they invariably gave signs of being
conscious of Bulger’s approach even before I could see him, and always
turned their faces in the direction in which he was coming.
You will remember, dear friends, that I mentioned the fact that the
Formifolk went barefoot, and that their feet as well as their hands
seemed altogether too large for their bodies, and I wish to add, that
while Bulger and I were being led through the long corridors and winding
passages on our way into the City of Silver, the three Soodopsies
frequently half halted and seemed to be feeling on the floor for
something with the balls of their feet. I thought no more about it,
until Bulger and I started out for our first stroll through their
wonderful town, when, to my great delight, I made the discovery that the
numbers of the houses, the names of the occupants, the names of the
streets, as well as all signboards, so to speak, and all guide-posts
were in slightly raised letters on the floors and pavements, and then
the truth dawned upon me, that Long Thumbs and his companions were
simply halting now and then to read the names of the streets with the
balls of their feet, in order to know if they were taking the right
road.
Ay, more than this, dear friends, the first time Bulger and I passed
through one of the open squares of the City of Silver, you may imagine
my satisfaction upon the discovery that the silver pavements were
literally covered with the writings of the Soodopsy authors in raised
characters.
Now, in Don Fum’s wonderful book he had, in his masterly manner, given
me the key to the language of the Formifolk, so that with very slight
effort I was able to make the additional discovery that some of the
streets were given up to the writers of history, and some to story
writers, while others were filled with the learned works of
philosophers, and others still contained many thousands of lines from
the best poets which the nation had produced.
And I had very little difficulty in discovering which were the favorite
poems of the Soodopsies, for, as you may readily suppose, these were
polished like a silver mirror by the shuffling of the many thankful feet
over their sweet and soulful lines.
I noticed that the writings of the philosophers in this, as in my own
world, found few readers, for the raised letters were, in many cases,
tarnished and black from lack of soles trampling over them in search of
wisdom.
Somewhat later, when I had become acquainted with Velvet Soles, the
daughter of Long Thumbs, a gracious little being as full of inward light
as she was blind to the outer world, and she invited me to “come for a
read,” I had a hard task of it in persuading her that I could not remove
what she called my ridiculous “foot boxes” and join her in enjoying some
of her favorite poems. It was to me a delicious pastime to accompany
this happy little maiden when she “went for a read,” to walk beside her
and watch the ever-varying expression of her beautiful face as the soles