CHAPTER XXVII.
SLEEP, DREAMS, NIGHTMARE.--"STRANGLE THE LIFE FROM MY BODY."
I know not how long I sat wrapped in slumber. Even if my body had notbeen wearing away as formerly, my mind had become excessively wearied. Ihad existed in a state of abnormal mental intoxication far beyond theperiod of accustomed wakefulness, and had taxed my mental organizationbeyond endurance. In the midst of events of the most startlingdescription, I had abruptly passed into what was at its commencement thesweetest sleep of my recollection, but which came to a horribletermination.
In my dream I was transported once more to my native land, and roamed infreedom throughout the streets of my lost home. I lived over again myearly life in Virginia, and I seemed to have lost all recollection ofthe weird journey which I had lately taken. My subsequent connectionwith the brotherhood of alchemists, and the unfortunate letter that ledto my present condition, were forgotten. There came no thoughtsuggestive of the train of events that are here chronicled, and as achild I tasted again the pleasures of innocence, the joys of boyhood.
Then my dream of childhood vanished, and the scenes of later days spreadthemselves before me. I saw, after a time, the scenes of my later life,as though I viewed them from a distance, and was impressed with the ideathat they were not real, but only the fragments of a dream. I shudderedin my childish dreamland, and trembled as a child would at confrontingevents of the real life that I had passed through on earth, and thatgradually assuming the shape of man approached and stood before me, ahideous specter seemingly ready to absorb me. The peaceful child inwhich I existed shrunk back, and recoiled from the approaching livingman.
"Away, away," I cried, "you shall not grasp me, I do not wish to becomea man; this can not, must not be the horrible end to a sweet existence."
Gradually the Man Life approached, seized and enveloped me, closingaround me as a jelly fish surrounds its living victim, while the horrorsof a nightmare came over my soul.
"Man's life is a fearful dream," I shouted, as I writhed in agony; "I amstill a child, and will remain one; keep off! Life of man, away! let melive and die a child."
The Specter of Man's Life seized me more firmly as I struggled toescape, and holding me in its irresistible clutch absorbed my substanceas a vampire might suck the blood of an infant, and while the childishdream disappeared in that hideous embrace, the miserable man awoke.
I found myself on land. The guide, seated at my side, remarked:
"You have slept."
"I have lived again," I said in bitterness.
"You have not lived at all as yet," he replied; "life is a dream,usually it is an unsatisfied nightmare."
"Then let me dream again as at the beginning of this slumber," I said;"and while I dream as a child, do you strangle the life from mybody,--spare me the nightmare, I would not live to reach the Life ofMan."
"This is sarcasm," he replied; "you are as changeable as the winds ofthe earth's surface. Now as you are about to approach a part of ourjourney where fortitude is necessary, behold, you waver as a littlechild might. Nerve yourself; the trials of the present require a steadymind, let the future care for itself; you can not recall the past."
I became attentive again; the depressing effects of that repulsive dreamrapidly lifted, and wasted away, as I realized that I was a man, and wasdestined to see more than can be seen in the future of other mortals.This elevation of my spirit was evidently understood by my guide. Heturned to the lake, and pointing to its quiet bosom, remarked:
"For five hours we have journeyed over this sheet of water at theaverage rate of nine hundred miles an hour. At the time you threw thefragments of cloth overboard, we were traveling at a speed of not lessthan twenty miles per minute. You remember that some hours ago youcriticised my assertion when I said that we would soon be near the axisof the earth beneath the North Pole, and now we are beyond that point,and are about six thousand miles from where we stood at that time."
"You must have your way," I replied; "I can not disprove your assertion,but were it not that I have passed through so many marvelous experiencessince first we met, I would question the reliability of yourinformation."
My guide continued:
"The surface of this lake lies as a mirror beneath both the ocean andthe land. The force effect that preserves the configuration of the oceanpreserves the form of this also, but influences it to a less extent, andthe two surfaces lie nearly parallel with each other, this one being onehundred and fifty miles beneath the surface of the earth. The shell ofthe earth above us is honeycombed by caverns in some places, in othersit is compact, and yet, in most places, is impervious to water. At thefarther extremity of the lake, a stratum of porous material extendsthrough the space intervening between the bottom of the ocean and thislake. By capillary attraction, assisted by gravitation, part of thewater of the ocean is being transferred through this stratum to theunderground cavity. The lake is slowly rising."
At this remark I interrupted him: "You say the water in the ocean isbeing slowly transferred down to this underground lake less by gravitythan by capillarity."
"Yes."
"I believe that I have reason to question that statement, if you do notinclude the salt," I replied.
"Pray state your objections."
I answered: "Whether a tube be long or short, if it penetrate the bottomof a vessel of brine, and extend downward, the brine will flow into andout of it by reason of its weight."
"You mistake," he asserted; "the attraction of the sides of thecapillary tube, if the tube is long enough, will eventually separate thewater from the salt, and at length a downward flow of water only willresult."
I again expressed my incredulity.
"More than this, by perfectly natural laws the water that is freed fromthe tubes might again force itself upward perfectly fresh, to thesurface of the earth--yes, under proper conditions, above the surface ofthe ocean."
"Do you take me for a fool?" I said. "Is it not self-evident that afountain can not rise above its source?"
"It often does," he answered.
"You trifle with me," I said, acrimoniously.
"No," he replied; "I am telling you the truth. Have you never heard ofwhat men call artesian wells?"
"Yes, and" (here I attempted in turn to become sarcastic) "have younever learned that they are caused by water flowing into crevices inuplands where layers of stone or of clay strata separated by sand orgravel slant upward. The water conducted thence by these channelsafterwards springs up in the valleys to which it has been carried bymeans of the crevices in these strata, but it never rises above itssource."
To my surprise he answered:
"This is another of man's scientific speculations, based on some facts,it is true, and now and then correct, but not invariably. The water ofan artesian well on an elevated plane may flow into the earth from acreek, pond, or river, that is lower than the mouth of the well itfeeds, and still it may spout into the air from either a near or distantelevation that is higher than its source."
"I can not admit the truth of this," I said; "I am willing to listen toreason, but such statements as these seem altogether absurd."
"As you please," he replied; "we will continue our journey."
INTERLUDE.--THE STORY INTERRUPTED.