_A strange manuscript found in a copper cylinder_
          (the twelfth installment)

   from _Harper's weekly_ (1888-mar-24) 
           (by James De Mille)


XVIII. A Voyage over the Pole

  The discovery of our love had brought a crisis in our fate
for me and Almah.  The Kohen hailed it with joy, for now  was
the time when he would be able to present us to the  Kohen
Gadol.  Our doom was certain and inevitable.  We were to be
taken to the _amir_; we were to be kept until the end of the
dark season, and then we were both to be publicly sacrificed. 
After this our bodies were to be set apart for the hideous
rites of the _Mista Kosek_.  Such was the fate that lay before
us.  

  The Kohen was now anxious to take us to the _amir_.  I might
possibly have persuaded him to postpone our departure, but I
saw no use in that.  It seemed better to go, for it was
possible that amid new scenes and among new people there might
be hope.  This, too, seemed probable to Almah, who was quite
anxious to go.  The Kohen pressed forward the preparations,
and at length a galley was ready for us.  

  This galley was about three hundred feet in length and fifty
in width, but not more than six feet in depth.  It was like a
long raft.  The rowers, two hundred in number, sat on a level
with the water, one hundred on each side.  The oars were
small, being not more than twelve feet in length, but made of
very light, tough material, with very broad blades.  The
galley was steered with broad-bladed paddles at both ends. 
There was no mast or sail.  Astern was a light poop,
surrounded by a pavilion, and forward there was another.  At
the bow there was a projecting platform, used chiefly in
fighting the _thannin_, or sea-monsters, and also in war. 
There were no masts or flags or gay streamers; no brilliant
colors; all was intensely black, and the ornaments were of the
same hue.  

  We were now treated with greater reverence than ever, for we
were looked upon as the recipients of the highest honor that
could fall to any of the Kosekin--namely, the envied dignity
of a public death.  As we embarked the whole city lined the
public ways, and watched us from the quays, from boats, and
from other galleys.  Songs were sung by a chosen choir of
paupers, and to the sound of this plaintive strain we moved
out to sea.  

  "This will be a great journey for me," said the Kohen, as we
left the port.  "I hope to be made a pauper at least, and
perhaps gain the honor of a public death.  I have known people
who have gained death for less.  There was an Athon last year
who attacked a pehmet with forty men and one hundred and
twenty rowers.  All were killed or drowned 
except himself.  In reward for this he gained the _mudecheb_,
or death recompense.  In addition to this he was set apart for
the _Mista Kosek_." 

  "Then, with you, when a man procures the death of others he
is honored?" 

  "Why, yes; how could it be otherwise?" said the Kohen.  

  "Is it not the same with you?  Have you not told me
incredible things about your people, among which there were a
few that seemed natural and intelligible?  Among these was
your system of honoring above all men those who procure the
death of the largest number.  You, with your pretended fear of
death, wish to meet it in battle as eagerly as we do, and your
most renowned men are those who have sent most to death." 

  To this strange remark I had no answer to make.  

  The air out at sea now grew chillier.  The Kohen noticed it
also, and offered me his cloak, which I refused.  He seemed
surprised, and smiled.  

  "You are growing like one of us," said he.  "You will soon
learn that the greatest happiness in life is to do good to
others and sacrifice yourself.  You already show this in part. 
When you are with Almah you act like one of the Kosekin.  You
watch her to see and anticipate her slightest wish; you are
eager to give her everything.  She, on the other hand, is
equally eager to give up all to you.  Each one of you is
willing to lay down life for the other.  You would gladly rush
upon death to save her from harm, much as you pretend to fear
death; and so I see that with Almah you will soon learn how
sweet a thing death may be." 

  "To live without her," said I, "would be so bitter that
death with her would indeed be sweet.  If I could save her
life by laying down my own, death would be sweeter still; and
not one of you Kosekin would meet it so gladly." 

  The Kosekin smiled joyously.  

  "Oh, almighty and wondrous power of Love!" he exclaimed,
"how thou hast transformed this foreigner!  Oh, Atam-or! you
will soon be one of us altogether.  For see, how is it now? 
You pretend to love riches and life, and yet you are ready to
give up everything for Almah." 

  "Gladly, gladly!" I exclaimed.  

  "Yes," he said, "all that you have--you would gladly lavish
on her, and would rejoice to make yourself a pauper for her
sweet sake.  You also would rejoice equally to give up life
for her.  Is it not so?" 

  "It is," said I.  

  "Then I see by this that Almah has awakened within you your
true human nature.  Thus far it has lain dormant; it has been
concealed under a thousand false and unnatural habits, arising
from your strange native customs.  You have been brought up
under some frightful system, where nature is violated.  Here
among us your true humanity is unfolded, and with Almah you
are like the Kosekin.  Soon you will learn new lessons, and
will find out that there is a new and a final self-abnegation
in perfect love; and your love will never rest till you have
separated yourself from Almah, so that love can have its
perfect work." 

  The sea now opened wide before us, rising up high as if
half-way to the zenith, giving the impression of a vast ascent
to endless distances.  Around the shores spread themselves,
with the shadowy outlines of the mountains; above was the sky,
all clear, with faint aurora-flashes and gleaming stars. 
Hand-in-hand with Almah I stood and pointed out the
constellations as we marked them while she told me of the
different divisions known among the Kosekin as well as her own
people.  There, high in the zenith, was the southern
polar-star, not exactly at the pole, nor yet of very great
brightness, but still sufficiently noticeable.  

  Looking back, we saw, low down, parts of the Phoenix and the
Crane; higher up, the Toucan, Hydrus, and Pavo.  On our right,
low down, was the beautiful Altar; higher up, the Triangle;
while on the left were the Sword-fish and the Flying-fish. 
Turning to look forward, we beheld a more splendid display. 
Then, over the bow of the vessel, between the Centaur, which
lay low, and Masca Indica, which rose high, there blazed the
bright stars of the Southern Cross--a constellation, if not
the brightest, at least the most conspicuous and attractive in
all the heavens.  All around there burned other stars,
separated widely.  Then, over the stern, gleamed the splendid
luster of Achernar, on the left the brilliant glow of alpha
Robur and Canopus, and low down before us the bright light of
Argo.  It was a scene full of splendor and fascination.  After
a time a change came over the sky: the aurora-flashes, at
first faint, gradually increased in brilliancy till the stars
grew dim, and all the sky, wherever the eye might turn from
the horizon to the zenith, seemed filled with lustrous flames
of every conceivable hue.  Colossal beams radiated from the
pole towards the horizon till the central light was
dissipated, and there remained encircling us an infinite
colonnade of flaming pillars that towered to the stars.  These
were all in motion, running upon one another, incessantly
shifting and changing; new scenes forever succeeded to old;
pillars were transformed to pyramids, pyramids to fiery bars;
these in their turn were transformed to other shapes, and all
the while one tint of innumerable hues overspread the entire
circle of the sky.  

  Our voyage occupied several _joms_; but our progress was
continuous, for different sets of rowers relieved one another
at regular intervals.  On the second _jom_ a storm broke out. 
The sky had been gathering clouds during sleeping-time, and
when we awoke we found the sea all lashed to fury, while all
around the darkness was intense.  The storm grew steadily
worse; the lightning flashed, the thunder pealed, and at
length the sea was so heavy that rowing was impossible.  Upon
this the oars were all taken in, and the galley lay tossing
upon the furious sea, amid waves that continually beat upon
her.  

  And now a scene ensued that filled me with amazement, and
took away all my thoughts from the storm.  It seemed
impossible that so frail a bark could stand the fury of the
waves.  Destruction was inevitable, and I was expecting to see
the usual signs of grief and despair--wondering, too, how
these rowers would preserve their subordination.  But I had
forgotten in my excitement the strange nature of the Kosekin. 
Instead of terror there was joy, instead of wild despair there
was peace and serene delight.  

  The lightning-flashes revealed a wonderful scene.  There
were all the rowers, each one upon his seat, and from them all
there came forth a chant which was full of triumph, like a
song of public welcome to some great national hero, or a song
of joy over victory.  The officers embraced one another and
exchanged words of delight.  The Kohen, after embracing all
the others, turned to me, and, forgetting my foreign ways,
exclaimed, in a tone of enthusiastic delight,

  "We are destroyed!  Death is near!  Rejoice!"

  Accustomed as I was to the perils of the sea, I had learned
to face death without flinching.  Almah, too, was calm, for to
her this death seemed preferable to that darker fate which
awaited us; but the words of the Kohen jarred upon my
feelings.  

  "Do you not intend to do anything to save the ship?" I
asked.  

  He laughed joyously.  

  "There's no occasion," said he.  "When the oars are taken in
we always begin to rejoice.  And why not?  Death is near--it
is almost certain.  Why should we do anything to distract our
minds and mar our joy?  For oh, dear friend, the glorious time
has come when we can give up life--life, with all its toils,
its burdens, its endless bitternesses, its perpetual evils. 
Now we shall have no more suffering from vexatious and
oppressive riches, from troublesome honors, from a surplus of
food, from luxuries and delicacies, and all the ills of life." 

  "But what is the use of being born at all?" I asked, in a
wonder that never ceased to rise at every fresh display of
Kosekin feeling.  

  "The use?" said the Kohen.  "Why, if we were not born, how
could we know the bliss of dying, or enjoy the sweetness of
death?  Death is the end of being--the one sweet hope and
crown and glory of life, the one desire and hope of every
living man.  The blessing is denied to none.  Rejoice with me,
oh Atam-or! you will soon know its blessedness as well as I." 

  He turned away.  I held Almah in my arms, and we watched the
storm by the lightning-flashes and waited for the end.  But
the end came not.  The galley was light, broad, and buoyant as
a life-boat; at the same time it was so strongly constructed
that there was scarcely any twist or contortion in the sinewy
fabric.  So we floated buoyantly and safely upon the summit of
vast waves, and a storm that would have destroyed a ship of
the European fashion scarcely injured this in the slightest
degree.  It was an indestructible as a raft and as buoyant as
a bubble; so we rode out the gale, and the death which the
Kosekin invoked did not come at all.  
  The storm was but short-lived; the clouds dispersed, and
soon went scudding over the sky; the sea went down.  The
rowers had to take their oars once more, and the reaction that
followed upon their recent rejoicing was visible in universal
gloom and dejection.  As the clouds dispersed the aurora
lights came out more splendid than ever, and showed nothing
but melancholy faces.  The rowers pulled with no life or
animation; the officers stood about sighing and lamenting;
Almah and I were the only ones that rejoiced over this escape
from death.  

  _Joms_ passed.  We saw other sights; we met with galleys and
saw many ships about the sea.  Some were moved by sails only;
these were merchant ships, but they had only square sails, and
could not sail in any other way than before the wind.  Once or
twice I caught glimpses of vast shadowy objects in the air. 
I was startled and terrified; for, great as were the wonders
of this strange region, I had not yet suspected that the air
itself might have denizens as tremendous as the land or the
sea.  Yet so it was, and afterwards during the voyage I saw
them often.  One in particular was so near that I observed it
with ease.  It came flying along in the same course with us,
at a height of about fifty feet from the water.  It was a
frightful monster, with a long body and vast wings like those
a bat.  Its progress was swift, and it soon passed out of
sight.  To Almah the monster created no surprise; she was
familiar with them, and told me that they were very abundant
here, but that they never were known to attack ships.  She
informed me that they were capable of being tamed if caught
when young, though in her country they were never made use of. 
The name given by the Kosekin to these monsters is _athaleb_. 


  At length we drew near to our destination.  We reached a
large harbor at the end of a vast bay: here the mountains
extended around, and before us there arose terrace after
terrace of twinkling lights running away to immense distances. 
It looked like a city of a million inhabitants, though it may
have contained far less than that.  By the brilliant aurora
light I could see that it was in general shape and form
precisely like the city that we had left, though far larger
and more populous.  The harbor was full of ships and boats of
all sorts, some lying at the stone quays, others leaving port,
others entering.  Galleys passed and repassed, and merchant
ships with their clumsy sails, and small fishing-boats.  From
afar arose the deep hum of a vast multitude and the low roar
that always ascends from a popular city.  

  The galley hauled alongside her wharf, and we found
ourselves at length in the mighty _amir_ of the Kosekin.  The
Kohen alone landed; the rest remained on board, and Almah and
I with them.  

  Other galleys were here.  On the wharf workmen were moving
about.  Just beyond were caverns that looked like warehouses. 
Above these was a terraced street, where a vast multitude
moved to and fro--a living tide as crowded and as busy as that
in Cheapside.  

  After what seemed a long time the Kohen returned.  This time
he came with a number of people, all of whom were in cars
drawn by opkuks.  Half were men and half women.  These came
aboard, and it seemed as though we were to be separated; for
the women took Almah, while the men took me.  
  Upon this I entreated the Kohen not to separate us.  I 
informed him that we were both of a different race from
his,that we did not understand their ways; we should be
miserable if separated.  

  I spoke long and with all the entreaty possible to one with
my limited acquaintance with the language.  My words evidently
impressed them: some of them even wept.  "You make us sad,"
said the Kohen.  "Willingly would we do everything that you
bid, for we are your slaves; but the state law prevents. 
Still, in your case, the law will be modified; for you are in
such honor here that you may be considered as beyond the laws. 
For the present, at least, we cannot separate you." 

  These words brought much consolation.  After this we landed,
and Almah and I were still together.



Chapter XIX.  The Wonders of the "Amir"

  We were drawn on cars up to the first terraced street, and
here we found the vast multitude which we had seen from a
distance.  Crossing this street, we ascended and came to
another precisely like it; then, still going on, we came to a
third.  Here there was an immense space, not overgrown with
trees like the streets, but perfectly open.  In the midst
arose a lofty pyramid, and as I looked at it I could not
refrain from shuddering; for it looked like the public altar,
upon which in due time I should be compelled to make my
appearance, and be offered up as a victim to the terrific
superstitions of the Kosekin.  

  Crossing this great square, we came to a vast portal, which
opened into a cavern with twinkling lights.  The city itself
extended above this, for we could see the terraced streets
rising above our heads; but here our progress ended at the
great cavern in the chief square, opposite the pyramid.  

  On entering the cavern we traversed an antechamber, and then
passing on we reached a vast dome, of dimensions so great that
I could perceive no end in that gloom.  The twinkling lights
served only to disclose the darkness and to indicate the
immensity of the cavern.  In the midst there arose two
enormous columns, which were lost in the gloom above.  

  It was only by passing through this that we learned its
great extent.  We at length came to the other end, and here we
saw numerous passages leading away.  The Kohen led us through
one of these, and after passing through several other domes of
smaller dimensions we at length reached an apartment where we
stopped.  This place was furnished with couches and hangings,
and lighted with flaming lamps.  The light was distressing to
those who had accompanied us, and many of them left, while the
few who remained had to cover their eyes.  Here we found that
all preparations had been made.  The apartments were all
illuminated, though our love of light never ceased to be a
matter of amazement to the Kosekin, and a bounteous repast was
spread for us.  But the Kohen and the others found the light
intolerable, and soon left us to ourselves.  

  After the repast some women appeared to take Almah to her
chamber, and, with the usual kindness of the Kosekin, they
assured her that she would not be expected to obey the law of
separation, but that she was to remain here, where she would
be always within reach of me.  

  After her departure there came to visit me the lowest man in
all the land of the Kosekin, though, according to our view, he
would be esteemed the highest.  This was the _Kohen Gadol_. 
His history had already been told me.  I had learned that
through lack of Kosekin virtue he had gradually sunk to this
position, and now was compelled to hold in his hands more
wealth, power, and display than any other man in the nation. 


  He was a man of singular appearance.  The light was not so
troublesome to him as to the others--he merely kept his eyes
shaded; but he regarded me with a keen look of inquiry that
was suggestive of shrewdness and cunning.  I confess it was
with a feeling of relief that I made this discovery; for I
longed to find some one among this singular people who was
selfish, who feared death, who loved life, who loved riches,
and had something in common with me.  This I thought I
perceived in the shrewd, cunning face of the Kohen Gadol, and
I was glad; for I saw that while he could not possibly be more
dangerous to me than those self-sacrificing, self-denying
cannibals whom I had thus far known, he might prove of some
assistance, and might help me to devise means of escape.  If
I could only find some one who was a coward, and selfish and
avaricious--if this Kohen Gadol could but be he--how much
brighter my life would be!  And so there happened to me an
incredible thing, that my highest wish was now to find in the
Kohen Gadol cowardice, avarice, and selfishness.  

  The Kohen was accompanied by a young female, richly attired,
whom I afterwards learned to be his daughter.  Her name was
Layelah, and she filled the office of _Malea_, which signifies
queen; and though honorable with us above all, is among the
Kosekin the lowest in the land.  Layelah was so beautiful that
I looked at her in amazement.  She was very tall for one of
the Kosekin, which made her stature equal to that of an
ordinary girl with us; her hair was rich, dark and luxuriant,
gathered about her head in great masses and bound by a golden
band.  Her features were delicate and perfect in their
outline; her expression was noble and commanding.  Her eyes
were utterly unlike those of the other Kosekin; the upper lids
had a slight droop, but that was all, and that was the nearest
approach to the national blink.  Her first entrance into the
room seemed to dazzle her, and she shaded her eyes for a few
moments, but after that she looked at me fixedly, and seemed
to suffer no more inconvenience than I did.  The perfect
liberty of women among the Kosekin made this visit from her
quite as natural as that of her father; and though she said
but little on this occasion, she was an attentive listener and
close observer.  

  Their visit was long, for they were evidently full of
curiosity.  They had heard much about me and wished to see
more.  It was the first time that I had found among the
Kosekin the slightest desire to know where I had come from. 
Hitherto all had been content with the knowledge that I was a
foreigner.  Now, however, I found in the Kohen Gadol and
Layelah a curiosity that was most eager and intense.  They
questioned me about my country, about the great world beyond
the mountains, about the way in which I had come here, about
the manners and customs of my countrymen.  They were eager to
know about those great nations of which I spoke, who loved
light and life; about men who loved themselves better than
others; of that world where men feared death and loved life,
and sought after riches and lived in the light.  

  The sleeping-time came and passed, and my visitors were
still full of eager questionings.  It was Layelah who at last
thought of the lateness of the hour.  At a word from her the
Kohen Gadol rose, with many apologies, and prepared to go. 
But before he left he said: 

  "When I was a child I was shipwrecked, and was taken up a
ship which conveyed me to a nation beyond the sea.  There I
grew up to manhood.  I learned their language and manners and
customs, and when I returned home I found myself an alien
here: I do not love darkness or death, I do not hate riches,
and the result is that I am what I am.  If I were like the
rest of my countrymen, my lot would make me miserable; but as
it is I prefer it to any other, and consider myself not the
lowest but the greatest in the land.  My daughter is like me,
and instead of being ashamed of her station she is proud of
it, and would not give it up even to become a pauper.  I will
see you again.  I have much to say." 

  With these words the Kohen Gadol retired, followed by
Layelah, leaving me more hopeful than I had been for a long
time.  

  For many _joms_ following I received visits from the Kohen
Gadol and from Layelah.  Almah was with me until
sleeping-time, and then these other visitors would come.  In
this, at least, they resembled the other Kosekin, that they
never dreamed of interfering with Almah when she might wish to
be with me.  Their visits were always long, and we had much to
say; but what I lost of sleep I always made up on the
following _jom_.  The Kohen Gadol, with his keen, shrewd face,
interested me greatly; but Layelah, with her proud face and
air of command, was a positive wonder.  

  I soon learned that the Kohen Gadol was what we term "a man
of advanced views," or perhaps a "Reformer," or a "Philosophic
Radical," it matters not which; suffice it to say that his
ideas and feelings differed from those of his nation, and if
carried out would be equal to a revolution in politics and
morals.  

  The Kohen Gadol advocated selfishness as the true law of
life, without which no state can prosper.  There were a few of
similar views, but they were all regarded with great contempt
by the multitude, and had to suffer the utmost rigor of the
law; for they were all endowed with vast wealth, compelled to
live in the utmost splendor and luxury, to have enormous
retinues, and to wield the chief power in politics and in
religion.  Even this, however, had not changed the sentiments
of the condemned, and I learned that they were laboring
incessantly, notwithstanding their severe punishment, to
disseminate their peculiar doctrines.  These were formulated
as follows: 

  1 A man should not love others better than himself.  
  2 Life is not an evil to be got rid of.  
  3 Other things are to be preferred to death.  
  4 Poverty is not the best state for man.  
  5 Unrequited love is not the greatest happiness.  
  6 Lovers may sometimes marry.  
  7 To serve is not more honorable than to command.  
  8 Defeat is not more glorious than victory.  
  9 To save a life should not be regarded as a criminal 
     offense.  
 10 The paupers should be forced to take a certain amount 
     of wealth, to relieve the necessities of the rich.  

  These articles were considered both by the Kohen Gadol and
by Layelah to be remarkable for their audacity, and were
altogether too advanced for mention by any except the chosen
few.  With the multitude he had to deal differently, and had
to work his way by concealing his opinions.  He had made a
great conspiracy, in which he was still engaged, and had
gained immense numbers of adherents by allowing them to give
him their whole wealth.  Through his assistance many Athons
and Kohens and Meleks had become artisans laborers, and even
paupers; but all were bound by him to the strictest secrecy. 
If any one should divulge the secret, it would be ruin to him
and to many others; for they would at once be punished by the
bestowal of the extremest wealth, by degradation to the rank
of rulers and commanders, and by the severest rigors of
luxury, power, splendor, and magnificence known among the
Kosekin.  Overwhelmed thus with the cares of government,
crushed under the weight of authority and autocratic rule,
surrounded by countless slaves all ready to die for them,
their lives would be embittered and their punishment would be
more than they could bear.  But the philosophic Kohen Gadol
dared all these punishments, and pursued his way calmly and
pertinaciously.  

  Nothing surprised the Kohen Gadol so much as the manner in
which I received his confidences.  He half expected to startle
me by his boldness, but was himself confounded by my words. 
I told him that in my country self was the chief
consideration, self-preservation the law of nature; death the
King of Terrors; wealth the object of universal search,
poverty the worst of evils; unrequited love nothing less than
anguish and despair; to command others the highest glory;
victory, honor; defeat, intolerable shame; and other things of
the same sort, all of which sounded in his ears, as he said,
with such tremendous force that they were like peals of
thunder.  He shook his head despondently; he could not believe
that such views as mine could ever be attained to among the
Kosekin.  But Layelah was bolder, and with all a woman's
impetuosity grasped at my fullest meaning and held it firm.  

  "He is right," said Layelah--"the heaven-born Atam-or.  He
shall be our teacher.  The rich shall be esteemed, the poor
shall be down-trodden; to rule over others shall be glorious,
to serve shall be base; victory shall be an honor, defeat a
shame; selfishness, self-seeking, luxury, and indulgence shall
be virtues; poverty, want, and squalor shall be things of
abhorrence and contempt." 

  The face of Layelah glowed with enthusiasm as she said these
words, and I saw in her a daring, intrepid, and high-hearted
woman, full of a woman's headlong impetuosity and disregard of
consequences.  In me she saw one who seemed to her like a
prophet and teacher of a new order of things, and her whole
soul responded to the principles which I announced.  It
required immense strength of mind and firmness of soul to
separate herself from the prevalent sentiment of her nation;
and though nature had done much for her in giving her a larger
portion of original selfishness than was common to her people,
still she was a child of the Kosekin, and her daring was all
the more remarkable.  And so she went further than her father,
and adopted my extreme views when he shrank back, and dared
more unflinchingly the extremest rigors of the national law,
and all that the Kosekin could inflict in the way of wealth,
luxury, supreme command, palatial abodes, vast retinues of
slaves, and the immense degradation of the queenly office.  

  I spoke to her in a warning voice about her rashness.  

  "Oh," said she, "I have counted the cost, and am ready to
accept all that they can inflict.  I embrace the good cause,
and will not give it up--no, not even if they could increase
my wealth a thousand-fold, and sentence me to live a hundred
seasons.  I can bear their utmost inflictions of wealth,
power, magnificence; I could even bear being condemned to live
forever in the light.  Oh, my friend, it is the conviction of
right and the support of conscience that strengthens one to
bear the greatest evils that man can inflict." 

  From these words it was evident to me that Layelah was a
true child of the Kosekin; for though she was of advanced
sentiments she still used the language of her people, and
spoke of the punishments of the law as though they were
punishments in reality.  Now, to me and to Almah these
so-called punishments seemed rewards.  

  It was impossible for me to avoid feeling a very strong
regard for this enthusiastic and beautiful girl; all the more,
indeed, because she evinced such an undisguised admiration for
me.  She evidently considered me some superior being, from
some superior race; and although my broken and faulty way of
speaking the language was something of a trial, still she
seemed to consider every word I uttered as a maxim of the
highest wisdom.  The tritest of truths, the commonest of
platitudes, the most familiar of proverbs or old saws current
among us were eagerly seized by Layelah, and accepted as
truths almost divine--as new doctrines for the guidance of the
human race.  These she would discuss with me; she would put
them into better and more striking language, and ask for my
opinion.  Then she would write them down.  

  For the Kosekin knew the art of writing.  They had an
alphabet of their own, which was at once simple and very
scientific.  There were no vowels, but only consonant sounds,
the vowels being supplied in reading, just as if one should
write the words _fthr_ or _dghtr_, and read them father and
daughter.  Their letters were as follows: P, K, T, B, G, D, F,
Ch, Th, M, L, N, S, H, R.  There were also three others, which
have no equivalents in English.  

  It soon became evident to me that Layelah had a complete
ascendancy over her father; that she was not only the Malea of
the _amir_, but the presiding spirit and the chief
administrative genius of the whole nation of the Kosekin.  She
seemed to be a new Semiramis--one who might revolutionize an
empire and introduce a new order of things.  Such, indeed, was
her high ambition, and she plainly avowed it to me; but what
was more, she frankly informed me that she regarded me as a
Heaven-sent teacher--as one who in this darkness could tell
her of the nations of light--who could instruct her in the
wisdom of other and greater races, and help her to accomplish
her grand designs.  

  As for Almah, she seemed quite beneath the notice of the
aspiring Layelah.  She never noticed her, she never spoke of
her, and she always made her visits to me after Almah had
gone.

(End of twelfth installment)