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

   from _Harper's weekly_ (1888-apr-28) 
           (by James De Mille)


CHAPTER XXVI  GRIMM'S LAW AGAIN

DINNER was now announced, and Oxenden laid the manuscript
aside; whereupon they adjourned to the cabin, where they
proceeded to discuss both the repast and the manuscript.

  "Well," said Featherstone, "More's story seems to be
approaching a crisis.  What do you think of it now, Melick?
Do you still think it a sensational novel?"

  "Partly so," said Melick; "but it would be nearer the mark
to call it a satirical romance."

  "Why not a scientific romance?"

  "Because there's precious little science in it, but a good
deal of quiet satire."

  "Satire on what?" asked Featherstone.  "I'll be hanged if
I can see it."

  "Oh, well," said Melick, "on things in general.  The
satire is directed against the restlessness of humanity; its
impulses, feelings, hopes, and fears--all that men do and
feel and suffer.  It mocks us by exhibiting a new race of
men, animated by passions and impulses which are directly
the opposite of ours, and yet no nearer happiness than we
are.  It shows us a world where our evil is made a good, and
our good an evil; there all that we consider a blessing is
had in abundance--prolonged and perpetual sunlight, riches,
power, fame--and yet these things are despised, and the
people, turning away from them, imagine that they can find
happiness in poverty, darkness, death, and unrequited love. 
The writer thus mocks at all our dearest passions and
strongest desires; and his general aim is to show that the
mere search for happiness _per se_ is a vulgar thing, and
must always result in utter nothingness.  The writer also
teaches the great lesson that the happiness of man consists
not in external surroundings, but in the internal feelings,
and that heaven itself is not a place, but a state.  It is
the old lesson which Milton extorted from Satan:

  'What matter where, if I be still the same--'

Or again:

  'The mind is its own place, and of itself 
  Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.'"

  "That's good too," cried Oxenden.  "That reminds me of the
German commentators who find in the _Agamemnon_ of AEschylus
or the _OEdipus_ of Sophocles or the _Hamlet_ of Shakespeare
motives and purposes of which the authors could never have
dreamed, and give us a metaphysical, beer-and-tobacco,
High-Dutch Clytemnestra or Antigone or Lady Macbeth.  No, my
boy, More was a simple sailor, and had no idea of satirizing
anything."

  "How, then, do you account for the perpetual undercurrent
of meaning and innuendo that may be found in every line?"

  "I deny that there is anything of the sort," said Oxenden. 
"It is a plain narrative of facts; but the facts are
themselves such that they give a new coloring to the facts
of our own life.  They are in such profound antithesis to
European ways that we consider them as being written merely
to indicate that difference.  It is like the _Germania_ of
Tacitus, which many critics still hold to be a satire on
Roman ways, while as a matter of fact it is simply a
narrative of German manners and customs."

  "I hope," cried Melick, "that you do not mean to compare
this awful rot and rubbish to the _Germania_ of Tacitus?"

  "By no means," said Oxenden; "I merely asserted that in
one respect they were analogous.  You forced on the allusion
to the _Germania_ by calling this 'rot and rubbish' a
satirical romance."

  "Oh, well," said Melick, "I only referred to the intention
of the writer.  His plan is one thing and his execution
quite another.  His plan is not bad, but he fails utterly in
his execution.  The style is detestable.  If he had written
in the style of a plain seaman, and told a simple
unvarnished tale, it would have been all right.  In order to
carry out properly such a plan as this the writer should
take Defoe as his model, or, still better, Dean Swift. 
_Gulliver's Travels_ and _Robinson Crusoe_ show what can be
done in this way, and form a standard by which all other
attempts must be judged.  But this writer is tawdry; he has
the worst vices of the sensational school--he shows
everywhere marks of haste, gross carelessness, and universal
feebleness.  When he gets hold of a good fancy, he lacks the
patience that is necessary in order to work it up in an
effective way.  He is a gross plagiarist, and over and over
again violates in the most glaring manner all the ordinary
proprieties of style.  What can be more absurd, for
instance, than the language which he puts into the mouth of
Layelah?  Not content with making her talk like a
sentimental boarding-school, bread-and-butter English miss,
he actually forgets himself so far as to put in her mouth a
threadbare joke, which everyone has heard since childhood."

  "What is that?"

  "Oh, that silly speech about the athaleb swallowing its
victuals whole."

  "What's the matter with that?" asked Oxenden.  "It's
merely a chance resemblance.  In translating her words into
English they fell by accident into that shape.  No one but
you would find fault with them.  Would it have been better
if he had translated her words into the scientific
phraseology which the doctor made use of with regard to the
ichthyosaurus?  He might have made it this way: 'Does it
bite?'  'No; it swallows its food without mastication.' 
Would that have been better?  Besides, it's all very well to
talk of imitating Defoe and Swift; but suppose he couldn't
do it?"

  "Then he shouldn't have written the book."

  "In that case how could his father have heard about his
adventures?"

  "His father!" exclaimed Melick.  "Do you mean to say that
you still accept all this as _bona fide_?"

  "Do you mean to say," retorted Oxenden, "that you still
have any doubt about the authenticity of this remarkable
manuscript?"

  At this each looked at the other; Melick elevated his
eyebrows, and Oxenden shrugged his shoulders, but each
seemed unable to find words to express his amazement at the
other's stupidity, and so they took refuge in silence.

  "What do you understand by this athaleb, doctor?" asked
Featherstone.

  "The athaleb?" said the doctor.  "Why, it is clearly the
pterodactyl."

  "By-the-bye," interrupted Oxenden, "do please take notice
of that name.  It affords another exemplification of
'Grimm's Law.'  The Hebrew word is 'ataleph,' and means bat. 
The Kosekin word is 'athaleb.' Here you see the thin letter
of Hebrew represented by the aspirated letter of the Kosekin
language, while the aspirated Hebrew is represented by the
Kosekin medial."

  "Too true," exclaimed Melick, in a tone of deep
conviction; "and now, Oxenden, won't you sing us a song?"

  "Nonsense," said Featherstone; "let the doctor tell us
about the athaleb."

  "Well," resumed the doctor, "as I was saying, it must be
undoubtedly the pterodactyl.  It is a most extraordinary
animal, and is a species of flying lizard, although
differing from the lizard in many respects.  It has the head
and neck of a bird, the trunk and tail of an ordinary
mammal, the jaws and teeth of a reptile, and the wings of a
bat.  Owen describes one whose sweep of wings exceeded
twenty feet, and many have been found of every gradation of
size down to that of a bat.  There is no reason why they
should not be as large as More says; and I for my part do
not suspect him of exaggeration.  Some have supposed that a
late, lingering individual may have suggested the idea of
the fabulous dragon--an idea which seems to be in the minds
of nearly all the human race, for in the early records of
many nations we find the destruction of dragons assigned to
their gods and heroes.  The figure of the pterodactyl
represents pretty closely that which is given to the
dragons.  It is not impossible that they may have existed
into the period which we call prehistoric, and that monsters
far larger than any which we have yet discovered may have
lingered until the time when man began to increase upon the
earth, to spread over its surface, and to carve upon wood
and stone representations of the most striking objects
around him.  When the living pterodactyls had disappeared
the memory of them was preserved; some new features were
added, and the imagination went so far as to endow them with
the power of belching forth smoke and flames.  Thus the
dragon idea pervaded the minds of men, and instead of a
natural animal it became a fabulous one.

  "The fingers of the forelegs were of the ordinary
dimensions, and terminated with crooked nails, and these
were probably used to suspend themselves from trees.  When
in repose it rested on its hind legs like a bird, and held
its neck curving behind, so that its enormous head should
not disturb its equilibrium.  The size and form of the feet,
of the leg, and of the thigh prove that they could hold
themselves erect with firmness, their wings folded, and move
about in this way like birds, just as More describes them as
doing.  Like birds they could also perch on trees, and could
crawl like bats and lizards along the rocks and cliffs.

  "Some think that they were covered with scales, but I am
of the opinion that they had a horny hide, with a ridge of
hair running down their backs--in which opinion I am
sustained by More's account.  The smaller kinds were
undoubtedly insectivorous, but the larger ones must have
been carnivorous, and probably fed largely on fish."

  "Well, at any rate," said Melick, gravely, "this athaleb
solves the difficult question as to how the Troglodytes
emigrated to the South Pole."

  "How?" asked the doctor.

  "Why, they must have gone there on athalebs!  Your friends
the pterodactyls probably lingered longest among the
Troglodytes, who, seeing that they were rapidly dying out,
concluded to depart to another and a better world.  One
beauty of this theory is that it cannot possibly be
disproved; another is that it satisfies all the requirements
of the case; a third is that it accounts for the
disappearance of the pterodactyls in our world, and their
appearance at the South Pole; and there are forty or fifty
other facts, all included in this theory, which I have not
time just now to enumerate, but will try to do so after we
have finished reading the manuscript.  I will only add that
the athaleb must be regarded as another link which binds the
Kosekin to the Semitic race."

  "Another link?" said Oxenden.  "That I already have and it
is one that carries conviction with it."
 
  "All your arguments invariably do, my dear fellow."

  "What is it?" asked the doctor.

  "The Kosekin alphabet," said Oxenden.

  "I can't see how you can make anything out of that," said
the doctor.

  "Very well, I can easily explain," replied Oxenden.  "In
the first place we must take the old Hebrew alphabet.  I
will write down the letters in their order first."

  Saying this he hastily jotted down some letters on a piece
of paper, and showed to the doctor the following:

      Labials.       Palatals.    Linguals.
A       B            C (or G)        D
E       F            Ch (or H)    Dh (or Th)
I    Liquids, L         M            N
O       P               K            T


  "That," said he, "is substantially the order of the old
Hebrew alphabet."

  "But," said the doctor, "the Kosekin alphabet differs in
its order altogether from that."

  "That very difference can be shown to be all the stronger
proof of a connection between them," said Oxenden.

  "I should like to know how."
 
  "The fact is," said Oxenden, "these letters are
represented differently in the two languages in exact
accordance with Grimm's Law."

  "By Jove!" cried Featherstone, "Grimm's Law again!"

  "According to that law," continued Oxenden, "the letters
of the alphabet ought to change their order.  Now let us
leave out the vowels and linguals, and deal only with the
mutes.  First, we have in the Hebrew alphabet the medials B,
G, and D.  Very well; in the Kosekin we have standing first
the thin letters, or tenues, according to Grimm's Law,
namely, P, K, T.  Next we have in the Hebrew the aspirates
F, Ch, Dh.  In the Kosekin alphabet we have corresponding to
them the medials B, G, D.  Next we have in the Hebrew the
tenues, or thin letters P, K, T.  In the Kosekin we have the
corresponding aspirates F, Ch, Th.  The vowels, liquids, and
sibilants need not be regarded just here, for the proof from
the mutes is sufficient to satisfy any reasonable man."

  "Well," said Melick, "I for one am thoroughly satisfied,
and don't need another single word.  The fact is, I never
knew before the all-sufficient nature of Grimm's Law.  Why,
it can unlock any mystery! When I get home I must buy one--a
tame one, if possible--and keep him with me always.  It is
more useful to a literary man than to any other.  It is said
that with a knowledge of Grimm's Law a man may wander
through the world from Iceland to Ceylon, and converse
pleasantly in all the Indo-European languages.  More must
have had Grimm's Law stowed away somewhere about him; and
that's the reason why he escaped the icebergs, the
volcanoes, the cannibals, the subterranean channel monster,
and arrived at last safe and sound in the land of the
Kosekin.  What I want is Grimm's Law--a nice tidy one, well
trained, in good working order, and kind in harness; and the
moment I get one I intend to go to the land of the Kosekin
myself."


CHAPTER XXVII  OXENDEN PREACHES A SERMON

"MAGONES," said the doctor, "is clearly a volcanic island,
and, taken in connection with the other volcanoes around,
shows how active must be the subterranean fires at the South
Pole.  It seems probable to me that the numerous caves of
the Kosekin were originally fissures in the mountains,
formed by convulsions of nature; and also that the places
excavated by man must consist of soft volcanic rock, such as
pumice-stone, or rather tufa, easily worked, and remaining
permanently in any shape into which it may be fashioned.  As
to Magones, it seems another Iceland; for there are the same
wild and hideous desolation, the same impassable
wildernesses, and the same universal scenes of ruin, lighted
up by the baleful and tremendous volcanic fires."

  "But what of that little island on which they landed?"
asked Featherstone.  "That, surely, was not volcanic."

  "No," said the doctor; "that must have been a coral
island."

  "By-the-bye, is it really true," asked Featherstone, "that
these coral islands are the work of little insects?"

  "Well, they may be called insects," replied the doctor;
"they are living zoophytes of most minute dimensions, which,
however, compensate for their smallness of size by their
inconceivable numbers.  Small as these are they have
accomplished infinitely more than all that ever was done by
the ichthyosaurus, the plesiosaurus, the pterodactyl, and
the whole tribe of monsters that once filled the earth. 
Immense districts and whole mountains have been built up by
these minute creatures.  They have been at work for ages,
and are still at work.  It is principally in the South Seas
that their labors are carried on.  Near the Maldive Islands
they have formed a mass whose volume is equal to the Alps. 
Around New Caledonia they have built a barrier of reefs four
hundred miles in length, and another along the northeast
coast of Australia a thousand miles in length.  In the
Pacific Ocean, islands, reefs, and islets innumerable have
been constructed by them, which extend for an immense
distance.

  "The coral islands are called 'atolls.' They are nearly
always circular, with a depression in the center.  They are
originally made ring-shaped, but the action of the ocean
serves to throw fragments of rock into the inner depression,
which thus fills up; firm land appears; the rock crumbles
into soil; the winds and birds and currents bring seeds
here, and soon the new island is covered with verdure. 
These little creatures have played a part in the past quite
as important as in the present.  All Germany rests upon a
bank of coral; and they seem to have been most active during
the Oolitic Period."

  "How do the creatures act?" asked Featherstone.

  "Nobody knows," replied the doctor.

  A silence now followed, which was at last broken by
Oxenden.

  "After all," said he, "these monsters and marvels of
nature form the least interesting feature in the land of the
Kosekin.  To me the people themselves are the chief subject
of interest.  Where did they get that strange, all-pervading
love of death, which is as strong in them as love of life is
in us?"

  "Why, they got it from the imagination of the writer of
the manuscript," interrupted Melick.

  "Yes, it's easy to answer it from your point of view; yet
from my point of view it is more difficult.  I sometimes
think that it may be the strong spirituality of the Semitic
race, carried out under exceptionally favorable
circumstances to the ultimate results; for the Semitic race
more than all others thought little of this life, and turned
their affections to the life that lives beyond this.  The
Kosekin may thus have had a spiritual development of their
own, which ended in this.

  "Yet there may be another reason for it, and I sometimes
think that the Kosekin may be nearer to the truth than we
are.  We have by nature a strong love of life--it is our
dominant feeling--but yet there is in the minds of all men a
deep underlying conviction of the vanity of life, and the
worthlessness.  In all ages and among all races the best,
the purest, and the wisest have taught this truth--that
human life is not a blessing; that the evil predominates
over the good; and that our best hope is to gain a spirit of
acquiescence with its inevitable ills.  All philosophy and
all religions teach us this one solemn truth, that in this
life the evil surpasses the good.  It has always been so. 
Suffering has been the lot of all living things, from the
giant of the primeval swamps down to the smallest zoophyte. 
It is far more so with man.  Some favored classes in every
age may furnish forth a few individuals who may perhaps lead
lives of self-indulgence and luxury; but to the mass of
mankind life has ever been, and must ever be, a prolonged
scene of labor intermingled with suffering.  The great
Indian religions, whether Brahmanic or Buddhistic, teach as
their cardinal doctrine that life is an evil.  Buddhism is
more pronounced in this, for it teaches more emphatically
than even the Kosekin that the chief end of man is to get
rid of the curse of life and gain the bliss of Nirvana, or
annihilation.  True, it does not take so practical a form as
among the Kosekin, yet it is believed by one-third of the
human race as the foundation of the religion in which they
live and die.  We need not go to the Kosekin, however, for
such maxims as these.  The intelligent Hindoos, the Chinese,
the Japanese, with many other nations, all cling firmly to
this belief.  Sakyamoum Gautama Buddha, the son and heir of
a mighty monarch, penetrated with the conviction of the
misery of life, left his throne, embraced a life of
voluntary poverty, want, and misery, so that he might find
his way to a better state--the end before him being this,
that he might ultimately escape from the curse of existence. 
He lived till old age, gained innumerable followers, and
left to them as a solemn legacy the maxim that not to exist
is better than to exist; that death is better than life. 
Since his day millions of his followers have upheld his
principles and lived his life.  Even among the joyous Greeks
we find this feeling at times bursting forth it comes when
we least expect it, and not even a Kosekin poet could
express this view more forcibly than Sophocles in the
_OEdipus at Colonus_:

     "'Not to be born surpasses every lot;
     And the next best lot by far, when one is born
     Is to go back whence he came as soon as possible;
     For while youth is present bringing vain follies,
     What woes does it not have, what ills does it not
       bear--
     Murders, factions, strife, war, envy!
     But the extreme of misery is attained by loathsome old
      age--
     Old age, strengthless, unsociable, friendless,
     Where all evils upon evils dwell together.'"

  "I'll give you the words of a later poet," said Melick
"who takes a different view of the case.  I think I'll sing
them, with your permission."

  Melick swallowed a glass of wine and then sang the
following:

  "'They may rail at this life: from the hour I began
    I found it a life full of kindness and bliss,
    And until they can show me some happier planet,
    More social and bright, I'll content me with this.
    As long as the world has such lips and such eyes
    As before me this moment enraptured I see,
    They may say what they will of their orbs in the skies,
    But this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.'

  "What a pity it is," continued Melick, "that the writer of
this manuscript had not the philological, theological,
sociological, geological, palaeological, ontological,
ornithological, and all the other logical attainments of
yourself and the doctor! He could then have given us a
complete view of the nature of the Kosekin, morally and
physically; he could have treated of the geology of the
soil, the ethnology of the people, and could have unfolded
before us a full and comprehensive view of their philosophy
and religion, and could have crammed his manuscript with
statistics.  I wonder why he didn't do it even as it was. 
It must have been a strong temptation."

  "More," said Oxenden, with deep impressiveness, "was a
simple-minded though somewhat emotional sailor, and merely
wrote in the hope that his story might one day meet the eyes
of his father.  I certainly should like to find some more
accurate statements about the science, philosophy, and
religion of the Kosekin; yet, after all, such things could
not be expected."

  "Why not?" said Melick; "it was easy enough for him."

  "How?" asked Oxenden.

  "Why, he had only to step into the British Museum, and in
a couple of hours he could have crammed up on all those
points in science, philosophy, ethnology, and theology,
about which you are so anxious to know."

  "Well," said Featherstone, "suppose we continue our
reading?  I believe it is my turn now.  I sha'n't be able to
hold out so long as you did, Oxenden, but I'll do what I
can."

  Saying this, Featherstone took the manuscript and went on
to read.

(End of the seventeenth installment.)