August 1, 2025 • 7 mins
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter eleven, Pleasant days passed among the Miccamenckees, and wonderful
things seen by us, The Spectral Garden and a description
of it, Our meeting with Damoisel Blowstone, and what came
of it. From now on, Lord Bulgar and I made
ourselves perfectly at home among the Macamckees. One of the
royal barges was placed at our disposal, and when we
(00:20):
were tired of walking about and gazing at the wonders
of this beautiful city of the underworld, we stepped aboard
our barge and were rowed hither and thither on the
Glassy River. And if I had not seen it myself,
I never would have believed that any kind of shell
fish could ever be taught to be so obliging as
to swim to the surface and offer one of their
huge claws for our dinner, politely dropping it in our
(00:42):
hand the moment we laid hold of it. On one
of the river banks, I noticed a long row of
wooden compartments, looking very much like a grocer's bins. But
you may think how amused Bulgar and I were upon
coming closer to this long row of little houses, to
find that they were turtle nests, and that quite a
number of the turtles were sitting comfortably in their nests,
(01:03):
busy laying their eggs, which, let me assure you, with
the most dainty tidbits I ever tasted, I think I
informed you that the river flowing through Gaullalland was fairly
swarming with delicious fish, the carp and sole being particularly
delicate in flavor. And, knowing as I did, what a
tender hearted folk the Macamenkes are, I had been not
a little puzzled in my mind as to how they
(01:24):
had ever been able to summon up courage enough to
drive a spear into one of these fish, which were
as tame and playful as a lot of kittens or puppies,
and followed our bargs hither and thither, snapping at the
food we tossed to them, and leaping into the air,
where they glistened like burnished silver as the white lights
sparkled on their scales. But the mystery was solved one
(01:44):
day when I saw one of the fishermen decoying a
score or more fish into a sort of pen, shut
off from the river by a wire netting. Scarcely had
he closed the gates, when to my amazement, I saw
the fish, one after the other, come to the surface
and float about on their side stone dead. This little
baron explained, the man in charge is the death chamber.
(02:06):
Hidden at the bottom of this dark pool lie several
electric eels of great size and power. And when our
people went a fresh supper of fish, we simply opened
these gates and decoy a shoal of them inside by
tossing their favorite food into the water. The executioners are
awaiting them, and in a few instants the fish, while
enjoying their repast and suspecting no harm, are painlessly put
(02:28):
to death, as thou hast seen. One part of the
city of the Transparent Folk which attracted Bulgar and me
very much was the Royal Gardens. It was a weird
and uncanny place, and upon my first visit I walked
through its paths and beneath its arbors, upon my toes
and with bated breath, as you might steal into some
bit of fairyland, looking anxiously from side to side, as
(02:50):
if at every step you expected some sprite or goblin
to trip you up with a tough spider web, or
brush your cheeks with their cold and satiny wings. Friends,
you must first be told that with the loss of
sunshine and the open air, the flowers and shrubs and
vines of this underground world gradually parted with their perfumes
and colors, their leaves and petals and stems and tendrils,
(03:13):
growing paler and paler in hue, like lovelorn maids whose
sweethearts had never come back from the war. Month by month,
the dark greens, the blush pinks, the golden yellows, and
the deep blues pined away, longing for the lost sunshine
and the wooing breeze they loved so dearly, until at
last transformation was complete, and there they all stood or hung,
(03:35):
bleached to utter whiteness, like those fantastic clumps of flowers
and wreaths of vines which the feathery snow of April
builds in the leafless shrubs and trees. I cannot tell you,
dear friends, what a strange feeling came over me as
I stepped within this spectral garden, where ghost like vines
clung in fantastic forms and figures to the dark trellises,
(03:56):
and where tall lilies whiter than the down of eider
stood bolt upright like spirits doomed to eternal silence, denied
even the speech of perfume, and were huge clusters of
snowy chrysanthemums, fluffy feathery forms seemed, pressing their soft bodies
together like groups of banished celestials, in a sort of
(04:17):
silent despair, as they felt the warmth and glow of sunlight,
slowly and gradually quitting their souls. Where lower down great
roses with snowy petals whiter than the sea shells, hung motionless,
bursting open with eager effort, as if listening for some
signal that would dissolve the spell put upon them and
(04:37):
give them back the sunshine and with it their color
and their perfume. Where lower still beds of violets, bleached
white as fleecy clouds, seemed wrapt in silent sorrow at
loss of the heavenly perfume which had been theirs on earth.
Where above the lily's heads shot long, slender spectral stalks
of sunflowers, almost invisible, loaded at their ends with clusters
(04:58):
of snowy flowers, thus spended like white faces looking down
through the silent air and waiting, waiting for the sunshine
that never came, and higher still, all over and above,
these spectral flowers, entwining and in wrapping and falling, festooned
and garland wies, crept and ran like unto long lines
of escaping phantoms, ghostly vines with ghostly blossoms, bent and
(05:20):
twisted and wrapped and coiled into a thousand strange and
fantastic forms and figures which the white light, with its
inky shadows, made alive and half human, so that movement
and voice alone were needful to make this garden seem
peopled with sorrowing sprites, banished to these subterranean chambers for
strange misdeeds done on Earth, and condemned to wait ten
(05:41):
thousand years ere sunlight and their color and their perfume
should be given back to them again. While strolling through
the Royal gardens one day, Bulgar suddenly gave a low
cry and bounded on ahead, as if his eyes had
fallen upon the familiar form of some dear friend. When
I came up with him, he was crouching beside the
damosel Glowstone, who seated on one of the garden benches,
(06:02):
was caressing Bulgar's head and ears with one of her
soft hands with its filmy like skin, while the other
held its black fan pressed tightly against her bosom. She
looked up at me with her crystal eyes and smiled faintly.
As I drew near thou seest little Baron, she murmured,
Lord Bulgar and I have not forgotten each other since
our presentation at court. I had been going through and
(06:24):
through my mind in search of some reason for Bulgar's
sudden affection for Damosel Glowstone, but had found none. I
was the more perplexed as she was, but the maid
of honor, while the fair Princess Cristelina sat on the
very steps of the throne. But I said nothing save
to reply that I was greatly pleased to see it,
and to add that where Bulgar's love went, mine was
(06:45):
sure to follow, O, little Baron, if I could but
believe that sighed the fair Damosel, thou mayst, said I, indeed,
thou mayst. Then if I may, little Baron, she replied,
I will, and Prithee come and sit beside me here
only till I bid thee look not through me. Dost
promise I do, fair Damosel, was my answer, and thou
(07:08):
Lord Bulgar, lie there at my feet, she continued, And
keep thy wise eyes fixed upon me in thy keen
ears wide open, little Baron. If both thine and our
worlds were filled with sorrowing hearts, mine would be the
heaviest of them all. Listen, oh, listen to the sad,
sad tale of the sorrowing maid with a speck in
(07:29):
her heart. And when thou knowest all, give me of
thy wisdom. End of chapter eleven.
Chapter eleven, Pleasant days passed among the Miccamenckees, and wonderful
things seen by us, The Spectral Garden and a description
of it, Our meeting with Damoisel Blowstone, and what came
of it. From now on, Lord Bulgar and I made
ourselves perfectly at home among the Macamckees. One of the
royal barges was placed at our disposal, and when we
(00:20):
were tired of walking about and gazing at the wonders
of this beautiful city of the underworld, we stepped aboard
our barge and were rowed hither and thither on the
Glassy River. And if I had not seen it myself,
I never would have believed that any kind of shell
fish could ever be taught to be so obliging as
to swim to the surface and offer one of their
huge claws for our dinner, politely dropping it in our
(00:42):
hand the moment we laid hold of it. On one
of the river banks, I noticed a long row of
wooden compartments, looking very much like a grocer's bins. But
you may think how amused Bulgar and I were upon
coming closer to this long row of little houses, to
find that they were turtle nests, and that quite a
number of the turtles were sitting comfortably in their nests,
(01:03):
busy laying their eggs, which, let me assure you, with
the most dainty tidbits I ever tasted, I think I
informed you that the river flowing through Gaullalland was fairly
swarming with delicious fish, the carp and sole being particularly
delicate in flavor. And, knowing as I did, what a
tender hearted folk the Macamenkes are, I had been not
a little puzzled in my mind as to how they
(01:24):
had ever been able to summon up courage enough to
drive a spear into one of these fish, which were
as tame and playful as a lot of kittens or puppies,
and followed our bargs hither and thither, snapping at the
food we tossed to them, and leaping into the air,
where they glistened like burnished silver as the white lights
sparkled on their scales. But the mystery was solved one
(01:44):
day when I saw one of the fishermen decoying a
score or more fish into a sort of pen, shut
off from the river by a wire netting. Scarcely had
he closed the gates, when to my amazement, I saw
the fish, one after the other, come to the surface
and float about on their side stone dead. This little
baron explained, the man in charge is the death chamber.
(02:06):
Hidden at the bottom of this dark pool lie several
electric eels of great size and power. And when our
people went a fresh supper of fish, we simply opened
these gates and decoy a shoal of them inside by
tossing their favorite food into the water. The executioners are
awaiting them, and in a few instants the fish, while
enjoying their repast and suspecting no harm, are painlessly put
(02:28):
to death, as thou hast seen. One part of the
city of the Transparent Folk which attracted Bulgar and me
very much was the Royal Gardens. It was a weird
and uncanny place, and upon my first visit I walked
through its paths and beneath its arbors, upon my toes
and with bated breath, as you might steal into some
bit of fairyland, looking anxiously from side to side, as
(02:50):
if at every step you expected some sprite or goblin
to trip you up with a tough spider web, or
brush your cheeks with their cold and satiny wings. Friends,
you must first be told that with the loss of
sunshine and the open air, the flowers and shrubs and
vines of this underground world gradually parted with their perfumes
and colors, their leaves and petals and stems and tendrils,
(03:13):
growing paler and paler in hue, like lovelorn maids whose
sweethearts had never come back from the war. Month by month,
the dark greens, the blush pinks, the golden yellows, and
the deep blues pined away, longing for the lost sunshine
and the wooing breeze they loved so dearly, until at
last transformation was complete, and there they all stood or hung,
(03:35):
bleached to utter whiteness, like those fantastic clumps of flowers
and wreaths of vines which the feathery snow of April
builds in the leafless shrubs and trees. I cannot tell you,
dear friends, what a strange feeling came over me as
I stepped within this spectral garden, where ghost like vines
clung in fantastic forms and figures to the dark trellises,
(03:56):
and where tall lilies whiter than the down of eider
stood bolt upright like spirits doomed to eternal silence, denied
even the speech of perfume, and were huge clusters of
snowy chrysanthemums, fluffy feathery forms seemed, pressing their soft bodies
together like groups of banished celestials, in a sort of
(04:17):
silent despair, as they felt the warmth and glow of sunlight,
slowly and gradually quitting their souls. Where lower down great
roses with snowy petals whiter than the sea shells, hung motionless,
bursting open with eager effort, as if listening for some
signal that would dissolve the spell put upon them and
(04:37):
give them back the sunshine and with it their color
and their perfume. Where lower still beds of violets, bleached
white as fleecy clouds, seemed wrapt in silent sorrow at
loss of the heavenly perfume which had been theirs on earth.
Where above the lily's heads shot long, slender spectral stalks
of sunflowers, almost invisible, loaded at their ends with clusters
(04:58):
of snowy flowers, thus spended like white faces looking down
through the silent air and waiting, waiting for the sunshine
that never came, and higher still, all over and above,
these spectral flowers, entwining and in wrapping and falling, festooned
and garland wies, crept and ran like unto long lines
of escaping phantoms, ghostly vines with ghostly blossoms, bent and
(05:20):
twisted and wrapped and coiled into a thousand strange and
fantastic forms and figures which the white light, with its
inky shadows, made alive and half human, so that movement
and voice alone were needful to make this garden seem
peopled with sorrowing sprites, banished to these subterranean chambers for
strange misdeeds done on Earth, and condemned to wait ten
(05:41):
thousand years ere sunlight and their color and their perfume
should be given back to them again. While strolling through
the Royal gardens one day, Bulgar suddenly gave a low
cry and bounded on ahead, as if his eyes had
fallen upon the familiar form of some dear friend. When
I came up with him, he was crouching beside the
damosel Glowstone, who seated on one of the garden benches,
(06:02):
was caressing Bulgar's head and ears with one of her
soft hands with its filmy like skin, while the other
held its black fan pressed tightly against her bosom. She
looked up at me with her crystal eyes and smiled faintly.
As I drew near thou seest little Baron, she murmured,
Lord Bulgar and I have not forgotten each other since
our presentation at court. I had been going through and
(06:24):
through my mind in search of some reason for Bulgar's
sudden affection for Damosel Glowstone, but had found none. I
was the more perplexed as she was, but the maid
of honor, while the fair Princess Cristelina sat on the
very steps of the throne. But I said nothing save
to reply that I was greatly pleased to see it,
and to add that where Bulgar's love went, mine was
(06:45):
sure to follow, O, little Baron, if I could but
believe that sighed the fair Damosel, thou mayst, said I, indeed,
thou mayst. Then if I may, little Baron, she replied,
I will, and Prithee come and sit beside me here
only till I bid thee look not through me. Dost
promise I do, fair Damosel, was my answer, and thou
(07:08):
Lord Bulgar, lie there at my feet, she continued, And
keep thy wise eyes fixed upon me in thy keen
ears wide open, little Baron. If both thine and our
worlds were filled with sorrowing hearts, mine would be the
heaviest of them all. Listen, oh, listen to the sad,
sad tale of the sorrowing maid with a speck in
(07:29):
her heart. And when thou knowest all, give me of
thy wisdom. End of chapter eleven.
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