CHAPTER VIII

“GOOD-MORNING AS LONG AS IT LASTS.”—PLAIN TALK FROM MASTER COLD

SOUL.—WONDERS OF GOGGLE LAND.—WE ENTER THE CITY OF THE

MIKKAMENKIES.—BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF IT.—OUR APPROACH TO THE ROYAL

PALACE.—QUEEN GALAXA AND HER CRYSTAL THRONE.—MASTER COLD SOUL’S

TEARS.

I don’t think the darkness lasted over three hours, perhaps it was

longer; but Master Cold Soul was obliged to shake me gently ere he could

rouse me.

“Now, little baron,” said he, after he had wished me a good-morning with

the usual “as long as it lasts” tacked to it, “if thou art quite

willing, I’ll conduct thee to the court of our gracious mistress, Queen

Galaxa. Our wise men have often discoursed to her concerning the upper

world and the terrible sufferings of its people, exposed as they are to

be first frozen by the pitiless cold and then burned by the scorching

rays of what they call their sun, and she will no doubt deign to be

pleased at sight of thee, although I must warn thee that thou art most

uncomely, that thou seemst so black and hard to me as scarcely to be

human, but rather a bit of living earth or rock. I greatly fear me that

thou wilt make our people extremely vain by comparison. Thy four-footed

companion we know well by sight, having often seen his petrified image

in the rocks of the dark chambers of our world.”

“Master Cold Soul,” said I, as we walked along, “when thou gettest to

know me better thou wilt find me more comely, and although I shall not

be able to show thee my heart, I hope to be able to prove to thee and

thine that I have such a thing.”

“No doubt, no doubt, little baron,” exclaimed Master Cold Soul, “but be

not offended. It is not more pleasant for me to tell thee these

disagreeable things than it is for thee to hear them, but I am paid to

do it and I must earn my wage. Vanity grows apace in our world, and I

prick its bubbles whenever I see them.”

To my great wonder I now discovered that the world of the Mikkamenkies

had its lakes and rivers like our own, only of course they were smaller

and mirror-faced, being never visited by the faintest zephyr. To my

question as to whether they were peopled with living things, Master Cold

Soul informed me that they literally swarmed with the most delicious

fish, both in scales and shells.

“But think not, little baron,” he added, “that we of Goggle Land have no

other food than such as we draw from the water; for in our gardens grow

many kinds of delicate vegetables, springing up in a single night almost

as light as foam and just as white. But we are small eaters, little

baron, and rarely find it necessary to put to death a large shellfish.

We merely lay hold of his great claw, which he obligingly drops into our

hand, and forthwith sets about growing another.”

“But tell me, I pray thee, Master Cold Soul,” said I, “where ye find the

silk to weave such soft and beautiful stuff as that thy garment is

fashioned from?”

“In this under world of ours, little baron,” replied Master Cold Soul,

“there are many vast recesses not reached by the River of Light, and in

these dark chambers flit about huge night moths, like restless spirits

forever on the wing, but of course they are not, for we find their eggs

glued against the rocky sides of these caverns and collect them

carefully. The worms that are hatched from them spin huge cocoons so

large that one may not be hidden in my hand, and these unwound give unto

our looms all the thread they need.”

“And the beautiful wood,” I continued, “which I see about me carved and

fashioned into so many articles, whence comes it?”

“From the quarries,” answered Master Cold Soul.

“Quarries?” I repeated wonderingly.

“Why, yes, little baron,” said he, “for we have quarries of wood as no

doubt thou hast quarries of stone. Our wise men tell us that thousands

and thousands of years ago vast forests grown in your world were in the

upheavals and fallings-in of the earth’s crust thrust down into ours,

the gigantic trunks wedged closely together, and standing bolt upright

just as they grew. At least, so we find them when we have dug away the

hardened clay that has shut them in these many ages. But see, little

baron, we are now entering the city. Yonder is the royal palace—wilt

walk with me thither?”

Ah, dear friends, would that I could make you see this beautiful city of

the under world just as it showed itself to me then, spread out so

gloriously beneath the glittering domes and vaulted corridors, from

which poured down upon the exquisitely carved and polished entrances to

the living chambers of this happy folk, a flood of white light

apparently more dazzling than our noonday sun!

It was a sight so strangely beautiful that many times I paused to gaze

upon it. Young and old, all clad in the same gracefully flowing garbs of

silk, now purple, now royal blue, and now rich vermilion, were hurrying

hither and thither, each armed with the inevitable black fan, and the

baby face of each aglow with life and sweet content, while a hundred

fountains springing from crystal basins glistened in the dazzling white

light, and ten times a hundred flags and gonfalons hung listless but

rich in splendor from invisible wires. Strange music came floating along

from the gracefully shaped barges with silken awnings, which were

gliding noiselessly over the surface of the winding river, the oars

stirring the waters until the wake seemed a path through molten silver.

As Bulger and I followed Master Cold Soul along the streets of polished

marble, it was not long before a crowd of Mikkamenkies was at our heels,

whispering all sorts of uncomplimentary things about us, mingled with

not a few fits of suppressed laughter.

The Court Depressor reproved them sternly.

“Cease your ill-timed mirth,” said he, “and go about your business. Must

I pause and tell you a grewsome tale to check your foolish gayety? Know

ye not that all this silly mirth doth quicken your hearts and make them

run down just so much sooner?”

At these words of Master Cold Soul they fell back, and put an end to

their giggling, but it was only for a moment, and by the time we reached

the portal of the royal palace, a still louder and noisier crowd was

close behind us.

Master Cold Soul suddenly halted, and drawing forth a huge

pocket-handkerchief, began to weep furiously. It was not without its

effect, and from that moment I could see that the Mikkamenkies were

inclined to take a more serious view of my arrival in their city,

although it was only Cold Soul’s presence that kept them from bursting

out into fits of violent laughter.

Above the portals of the queen’s palace there were large openings hewn

in the rock for the purpose of admitting light into the royal

apartments; but these windows, if they may be called such, were hung

with silken curtains of delicate colors, so that the light which entered

the throne room was tempered and softened. The room itself was likewise

hung with silken stuffs, which gave it a look of Oriental splendor; but

never in my travels among strange peoples of far-away lands had my eyes

ever rested upon any work of art that equalled the crystal throne upon

which sat Galaxa, Queen of the Mikkamenkies.

In the upper world most diligent search had never been able to unearth a

piece of rock crystal more than about three feet in diameter; but here

in Queen Galaxa’s throne four glorious columns at least fifteen feet in

height, and at their base three feet in diameter, shot up in matchless

splendor. Their lower parts shut in spangles of gold that glittered with

ever-varying hues as a different light fell upon them. The cross pieces

and pieces making up the back and arms had been chosen on account of the

exquisitely beautiful hair and needle-shaped crystals of other metals

which they enclosed. A silken baldachin of rare beauty covered in the

throne, and from its edges dropped heavy cords and tassels of rich color

and the perfection of human handicraft as to fineness and finish.

At the foot of the throne sat the young princess Crystallina; and

standing behind her, and engaged in combing her long silken tresses, was

her favorite waiting-maid, Damozel Glow Stone, while around and about,

in files and group-wise, stood lords and ladies, courtiers and

counsellors, by the dozen.

As Master Cold Soul advanced to salute the queen, a throng of the idlers

who had followed at our heels crowded into the anteroom with loud

outbursts of laughter. The Court Depressor was greatly incensed, and

turning upon the throng he began weeping again with wonderful energy;

but I noticed that it was nothing but sound: not a tear fell to obscure

the crystal clearness of his eyes. Then he began chanting a sort of song

which was intended to have a depressing influence on the wild mirth of

the Mikkamenkies. I can only recollect one verse of this solemn chant of

the Court Depressor. It ran as follows:—

“Weep, Mikkamenkies, weep, O weep,

For the eyeless man in the City of Light,

For the mouthless man in Plenty’s bowers,

For the earless man in Music’s realm,

For the noseless man in the Kingdom of flowers,

Weep, Mikkamenkies, weep, O weep!”

But they only laughed the louder, crying out,—

“Nay, Master Cold Soul, we will not weep for them; weep for them

thyself.” At last Queen Galaxa raised the slender golden wand, tipped

with a diamond point, that lay within her hand, and instantly a hush

came upon the whole place, while every eye was riveted upon Bulger and

me.