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The Smoky God, Or, A Voyage To The Inner World
by
Strange as it may seem, neither my father nor myself felt the least bit of solicitude for our safety. “We have come into our own,” my father said to me. “This is the fulfillment of the tradition told me by my father and my father’s father, and still back for many generations of our race. This is, assuredly, the land beyond the North Wind.”
We seemed to make such an impression on the party that we were given specially into the charge of one of the men, Jules Galdea, and his wife, for the purpose of being educated in their language; and we, on our part, were just as eager to learn as they were to instruct.
At the captain’s command, the vessel was swung cleverly about, and began retracing its course up the river. The machinery, while noiseless, was very powerful.
The banks and trees on either side seemed to rush by. The ship’s speed, at times, surpassed that of any railroad train on which I have ever ridden, even here in America. It was wonderful.
In the meantime we had lost sight of the sun’s rays, but we found a radiance “within” emanating from the dull-red sun which had already attracted our attention, now giving out a white light seemingly from a cloud-bank far away in front of us. It dispensed a greater light, I should say, than two full moons on the clearest night.
In twelve hours this cloud of whiteness would pass out of sight as if eclipsed, and the twelve hours following corresponded with our night. We early learned that these strange people were worshipers of this great cloud of night. It was “The Smoky God” of the “Inner World.”
The ship was equipped with a mode of illumination which I now presume was electricity, but neither my father nor myself were sufficiently skilled in mechanics to understand whence came the power to operate the ship, or to maintain the soft beautiful lights that answered the same purpose of our present methods of lighting the streets of our cities, our houses and places of business.
It must be remembered, the time of which I write was the autumn of 1829, and we of the “outside” surface of the earth knew nothing then, so to speak, of electricity.
The electrically surcharged condition of the air was a constant vitalizer. I never felt better in my life than during the two years my father and I sojourned on the inside of the earth.
To resume my narrative of events; The ship on which we were sailing came to a stop two days after we had been taken on board. My father said as nearly as he could judge, we were directly under Stockholm or London. The city we had reached was called “Jehu,” signifying a seaport town. The houses were large and beautifully constructed, and quite uniform in appearance, yet without sameness. The principal occupation of the people appeared to be agriculture; the hillsides were covered with vineyards, while the valleys were devoted to the growing of grain.
I never saw such a display of gold. It was everywhere. The door-casings were inlaid and the tables were veneered with sheetings of gold. Domes of the public buildings were of gold. It was used most generously in the finishings of the great temples of music.
Vegetation grew in lavish exuberance, and fruit of all kinds possessed the most delicate flavor. Clusters of grapes four and five feet in length, each grape as large as an orange, and apples larger than a man’s head typified the wonderful growth of all things on the “inside” of the earth.
The great redwood trees of California would be considered mere underbrush compared with the giant forest trees extending for miles and miles in all directions. In many directions along the foothills of the mountains vast herds of cattle were seen during the last day of our travel on the river.
We heard much of a city called “Eden,” but were kept at “Jehu” for an entire year. By the end of that time we had learned to speak fairly well the language of this strange race of people. Our instructors, Jules Galdea and his wife, exhibited a patience that was truly commendable.