A Very Unusual Story
As many of you
have noticed from time to time as you open your smart phone to the world of
social media, you notice that it is the same things you had seen the day before
and even before that. You have no doubt noticed what appears to be an
intentional attempt to dumb up the mind as to what is real and what isn’t,
whether you admit it or not, you do see that you have been hooked into reading
basic garbage and often those things which bring the spirit low, we think what
is happening to this world? Although I feel that society of this planet is
spiraling down in fulfillment of prophecies of old, I remind myself of what
follows this period of intentional delusion or what has been termed as a period
of tribulation. Although I too get caught up in the social media and the many
things that just don’t matter and is the filth of the world, depression,
tragedy gloom and doom, we know exists, but to we have to feed our minds with
it every day? I chose to see the positive in all things as I know there is a
future of peace, tranquility, rest and a future of knowledge of the truth of
all things, that awaits us whether we survive the impending doom or not.
Today, instead
of following the whims of he who foments the social garbage and setting your
pattern of mulling through the crap, why not make the conscious decision to
feed your mind with something positive, whether truth or not, the possibilities
instilled in the mind lighting the dim bulb of imagination suppressed by the
social medial crap which actually causes you to be more un-sociable, why not do
something different? I remember when friends use to call me, we talked on the
phone or they came to visit or made plans to get together with some adventure
in mind. I remember when my 65 + nieces and nephews use to actually want to see
me, my 11 brothers and sisters actually got together or visited one another, if
nothing more spoke on the phone from time to time. My childhood best friend
whom I grew up with, did everything with, is nothing more than a memory, an
occasional email and his wife’s presence on facebook is all I have that tells
me he is still alive. This was a childhood I would never want to replace, but
can only imagine returning to.
With this said…
As many of you
know I have a growing library of pdf books, I love books especial those of
factual nature or possible fact. I love history, plausible history and those
which cause me to contemplate the unknown. Those things which I know will be
reveled in the future period of enlightenment.
Today, I am
giving you one incredible story contained in my collection, this one I found
many years ago, long before the internet. I DO NOT place it here as fact, nor
as fiction but as a plausible truth, it has always been my nature to try to
prove something as well as disprove, I can honestly say, I cannot find anything
to disprove the story but have found nothing but evidences which supports it
plausible truth. When I find such books I always try to learn about the author,
and or the man or subject presented.
George Emerson
In this case George Emerson born in Iowa in 1856, was an American novelist, Chicago newspaperman, lawyer, politician, and
promoter, who formed the North American Copper Company in Wyoming Encampment , Wyoming California
His father Jens Jansen born in the later 1700’s, a
sailor and fisherman of the Nordic coast, frequented the northerly most seas
even as far as the Franz Josef Land islands
and often took his son with him. The following is Olaf’s story as relayed to
George Emerson written by George using both the tale told him and the details
of the manuscripts meticulously kept by Olaf, Olaf died in Las Angeles in 1901.
The authors comments have been omitted and just Olaf’s
narrative given, should you choose to read the entire book, I would be more
than happy to give a copy to anyone interested enough to pull away from the
usual social media and do so, otherwise, may you enjoy your usual repetitive
routine day.
Olaf’s Story
My name is
Olaf Jansen. I am a Norwegian, although I was born in the little seafaring
Russian town of Uleaborg ,
on the eastern coast of the Gulf of Bothnia, the northern arm of the Baltic Sea .
My parents
were on a fishing cruise in the Gulf of Bothnia, and put into this Russian town
of Uleaborg
My father,
Jens Jansen, was born at Rodwig on the Scandinavian coast, near the Lofoden
Islands, but after marrying made his home at Stockholm, because my mother's
people resided in that city. When seven years old, I began going with my father
on his fishing trips along the Scandinavian coast.
Early in
life I displayed an aptitude for books, and at the age of nine years was
placed in a private school in Stockholm
My father
was a man fully six feet three in height, and weighed over fifteen stone, a
typical Norseman of the most rugged sort, and capable of more endurance than
any other man I have ever known. He possessed the gentleness of a woman in
tender little ways, yet his determination and will-power were beyond
description. His will admitted of no defeat.
I was in my
nineteenth year when we started on what proved to be our last trip as
fishermen, and which resulted in the strange story that shall be given to the world,
-- but not until I have finished my earthly pilgrimage.
I dare not
allow the facts as I know them to be published while I am living, for fear of
further humiliation, confinement and suffering. First of all, I was put in
irons by the captain of the whaling vessel that rescued me, for no other reason
than that I told the truth about the marvelous discoveries made by my father
and myself. But this was far from being the end of my tortures.
After four
years and eight months' absence I reached Stockholm, only to find my
mother had died the previous year, and the property left by my parents in the
possession of my mother's people, but it was at once made over to me.
All might
have been well, had I erased from my memory the story of our adventure and of my
father's terrible death.
Finally, one
day I told the story in detail to my uncle, Gustaf Osterlind, a man of
considerable property, and urged him to fit out an expedition for me to make
another voyage to the strange land.
At first I
thought he favored my project. He seemed interested, and invited me to go
before certain officials and explain to them, as I had to him, the story of our
travels and discoveries. Imagine my disappointment and horror when, upon the
conclusion of my narrative, certain papers were signed by my uncle, and,
without warning, I found myself arrested and hurried away to dismal and
fearful confinement in a madhouse, where I remained for twenty-eight years -
long, tedious, frightful years of suffering!
I never
ceased to assert my sanity, and to protest against the injustice of my
confinement. Finally, on the seventeenth of October, 1862, I was
released. My uncle was dead, and the friends of my youth were now strangers.
Indeed, a man over fifty years old, whose only known record is that of a
madman, has no friends.
I was at a
loss to know what to do for a living, but instinctively turned toward the
harbor where fishing boats in great numbers were anchored, and within a week I
had shipped with a fisherman by the name of Yan Hansen, who was starting on a
long fishing cruise to the Lofoden Islands.
Here my
earlier years of training proved of the very greatest advantage, especially in
enabling me to make myself useful. This was but the beginning of other
trips, and by frugal economy I was, in a few years, able to own a fishing-brig
of my own.
For
twenty-seven years thereafter I followed the sea as a fisherman, five years
working for others, and the last twenty-two for myself.
During all
these years I wa s a mostdiligent student of books, as well as a hard worker at
my business, but I took great care not to mention to anyone the story
concerning the discoveries made by my father and myself. Even at this late day
I would be fearful of having any one see or know the things I am writing, and
the records and maps I have in my keeping. When my days on earth are finished,
I shall leave maps and records that will enlighten and, I hope, benefit
mankind.
The memory of
my long confinement with maniacs, and all the horrible anguish and sufferings
are too vivid to warrant my taking further chances.
In 1889 I
sold out my fishing boats, and found I had accumulated a fortune quite
sufficient to keep me the remainder of my life. I then came to America
For a dozen years
my home was in Illinois Batavia Stockholm Los Angeles
I well
remember that we left Stockholm Gothland Island Oeland Island Denmark
My father was
in high spirit, because of the excellent and gratifying returns he had received
from our last catch by marketing at Stockholm
We put in at Hammerfest
For the first
few days we had an open sea and favoring wind, and then we encountered much ice
and many icebergs. A vessel larger than our little fishing-sloop could not
possibly have threaded its way among the labyrinth of icebergs or squeezed
through the barely open channels. These monster bergs presented an endless
succession of crystal palaces, of massive cathedrals and fantastic mountain
ranges, grim and sentinel-like, immovable as some
towering cliff of solid rock, standing silent as sphinx, resisting the restless
waves of a fretful sea.
After many
narrow escapes, we arrived at Spitsbergen on the 23d of June, and anchored at Wijade Bay Hinlopen Strait
A strong wind
came up from the southwest, and my father said that we had better take
advantage of it and try to reach Franz Josef Land, where, the year before he
had, by accident, found the ivory tusks that had brought him such a good price
at Stockholm.
Never,
before or since, have I seen so many sea-fowl; they were so numerous that they
hid the rocks on the coast line and darkened the sky.
For several
days we sailed along the rocky coast of Franz Josef Land
One could
hardly believe it was the Northland. The place was green with growing
vegetation, and while the area did not comprise more than one or two acres, yet
the air was warm and tranquil. It seemed to be at that point where the Gulf Stream
On the east
coast there were numerous icebergs, yet here we were in open water. Far to the
west of us, however, were icepacks, and still farther to the westward the ice
appeared like ranges of low hills. In front of us, and directly to the north,
lay an open sea.
My
father was an ardent believer in Odin and Thor, and had frequently told me they
were gods who came from far beyond the "North Wind."
There was a
tradition, my father explained, that still farther northward was a land more
beautiful than any that mortal man had ever known, and that it was inhabited by
the "Chosen
My youthful
imagination was fired by the ardor, zeal and religious fervor of my good
father, and I exclaimed: "Why not sail to this goodly land? The sky is
fair, the wind favorable and the sea open."
Even now I
can see the expression of pleasurable surprise on his countenance as he turned
toward me and asked: "My son, are you
willing to go with me and explore -- to go far beyond where man has ever
ventured?" I answered affirmatively. "Very well," he replied.
"May the god Odin protect us!" and, quickly adjusting the sails, he
glanced at our compass, turned the prow in due northerly direction through an
open channel, and our voyage had begun.
The sun was
low in the horizon, as it was still the early summer. Indeed, we had almost
four months of day ahead of us before the frozen night could come on again.
Our little
fishing-sloop sprang forward as if eager as ourselves for adventure. Within
thirty-six hours we were out of sight of the highest point on the coast line of Franz Josef Land
On the third
day we came to an island. Its shores were washed by an open sea. My father
determined to land and explore for a day. This new land was destitute of
timber, but we found a large accumulation of drift-wood on the northern shore.
Some of the trunks of the trees were forty feet long and two feet in diameter.
After one
day's exploration of the coast line of this island, we lifted anchor and turned
our prow to the north in an open sea.
I remember
that neither my father nor myself had tasted food for almost thirty hours.
Perhaps this was because of the tension of excitement about our strange voyage
in waters farther north, my father said, than anyone had ever before been.
Active mentality had dulled the demands of the physical needs.
Instead of the
cold being intense as we had anticipated, it was really warmer and more
pleasant than it had been while in Hammerfest Norway
We both
frankly admitted that we were very hungry, and forthwith I prepared a
substantial meal from our well-stored larder. When we had partaken heartily of
the repast, I told my father I believed I would sleep, as I was beginning to
feel quite drowsy. "Very well," he replied, "I will keep the watch."
I have no way
to determine how long I slept; I only know that I was rudely awakened by a
terrible commotion of the sloop. To my
surprise, I found my father sleeping soundly. I cried out lustily to him, and
starting up, he sprang quickly to his feet. Indeed, had he not instantly
clutched the rail, he would certainly have been thrown into the seething waves.
A fierce
snow-storm was raging. The wind was directly astern, driving our sloop at a
terrific speed, and was threatening every moment to capsize us. There was no
time to lose, the sails had to be lowered immediately. Our boat was writhing in
convulsions. A few icebergs we knew were on either side of us, but fortunately
the channel was open directly to the north. But would it remain so? In front of us, girding the
horizon from left to right, was a vaporish fog or mist, black as Egyptian
night at the water's edge, and
white like a steam-cloud toward the top, which was finally lost to view as it
blended with the great white flakes of falling snow. Whether it covered a
treacherous iceberg, or some other hidden obstacle against which our little
sloop would dash and send us to a watery grave, or was merely the phenomenon of
an Arctic fog, there was no way to determine.
By what
miracle we escaped being dashed to utter destruction, I do not know. I remember
our little craft creaked and groaned, as if its joints were breaking. It rocked
and staggered to and fro as if clutched by some fierce undertow of whirlpool or
maelstrom.
Fortunately
our compass had been fastened with long screws to a cross-beam. Most of our
provisions, however, were tumbled out and swept away from the deck of the
cuddy, and had we not taken the precaution at the very beginning to tie
ourselves firmly to the masts of the sloop, we should have been swept into the
lashing sea.
Above the
deafening tumult of the raging waves, I heard my father's voice. "Be courageous,
my son," he shouted, "Odin is the god of the waters, the companion of
the brave, and he is with us. Fear not."
To me
it seemed there was no possibility of our escaping a horrible death. The little
sloop was shipping water, the snow was falling so fast as to be blinding, and
the waves were tumbling over our counters in reckless white-sprayed fury. There was no telling what instant we
should be dashed against some drifting icepack. The tremendous swells would
heave us up to the very peaks of mountainous waves, then plunge us down into
the depths of the sea's trough as if our fishing-sloop were a fragile shell.
Gigantic white-capped waves, like veritable walls, fenced us in, fore and aft.
This terrible
nerve-racking ordeal, with its nameless horrors of suspense and agony of fear
indescribable, continued for more than three hours, and all the time we were
being driven forward at fierce speed. Then suddenly, as if growing weary of its
frantic exertions, the wind began to lessen its fury and by degrees to die down.
At last we
were in prefect calm. The fog mist had also disappeared, and before us lay an
iceless channel perhaps ten or fifteen miles wide with a few icebergs far away
to our right, and an intermittent archipelago of smaller ones to the left.
I watched my
father closely, determined to remain silent until he spoke. Presently he untied
the rope from his waist and, without saying a word, began working the pumps,
which fortunately were not damaged, relieving the sloop of the water it had
shipped in the madness of the storm.
He put up the
sloop's sails as calmly as if casting a fishing-net, and then remarked that we
were ready for a favoring wind when it came. His courage and persistence were
truly remarkable.
On
investigation we found less than one-third of our provisions remaining, while
to our utter dismay, we discovered that our water-casks had been swept
overboard during the violent plungings of our boat.
Two of our
water-casks were in the main hold, both were empty. We had a fair supply of
food, but no fresh water. I realized at once the awfulness of our position.
Presently I was seized with a consuming thirst. "It is indeed bad,"
remarked my father. "However, let us dry our bedraggled clothing, for we
are soaked to the skin. Trust to the god Odin, my son. Do not give up
hope."
The sun was
beating down slantingly, as if we were in a southern latitude, instead of in
the far Northland. It was swinging around, its orbit ever visible and rising
higher and higher each day, frequently mist-covered, yet always peering through
the lacework of clouds like some fretful eye of fate, guarding the mysterious
Northland and jealously watching the pranks of man. Far to our right the rays
decking the prisms of icebergs were gorgeous. Their reflections emitted flashes
of garnet, of diamond, of sapphire. A pyrotechnic panorama of countless colors
and shapes, while below could be seen the green-tinted sea, and above, the
purple sky.
Part 2
Beyond the
North Wind
I tried to
forget my thirst by busying myself with bringing up some food and an empty
vessel from the hold. Reaching over the side-rail, I filled the vessel with
water for the purpose of laving my hands and face. To my astonishment, when the
water came in contact with my lips, I could taste no salt. I was startled by
the discovery. "Father!" I fairly gasped, "the water, the water;
it is fresh!" "What, Olaf?" exclaimed my father, glancing hastily
around. "Surely you are mistaken. There is no land. You are going
mad." "But taste it!" I cried.
And thus we
made the discovery that the water was indeed fresh, absolutely so, without the
least briny taste or even the suspicion of a salty flavor. We forthwith filled
our two remaining water-casks, and my father declared it was a heavenly
dispensation of mercy from the gods Odin and Thor.
We were
almost beside ourselves with joy, but hunger bade us end our enforced fast. Now
that we had found fresh water in the open sea, what might we not expect in this
strange latitude where ship had never before sailed and the splash of an oar
had never been heard?
We had
scarcely appeased our hunger when a breeze began filling the idle sails, and,
glancing at the compass, we found the northern point pressing hard against the
glass.
In response
to my surprise, my father said: "I have heard of this before; it is what
they call the dipping of the needle."
We loosened
the compass and turned it at right angles with the surface of the sea
before its point would free itself from the glass and point according to
unmolested attraction. It shifted uneasily, and seemed as unsteady as a drunken
man, but finally pointed a course.
Before this
we thought the wind was carrying us north by northwest, but, with the needle
free, we discovered, if it could be relied upon, that we were sailing slightly
north by northeast. Our course, however, was ever tending northward.
The sea was
serenely smooth, with hardly a choppy wave, and the wind brisk and
exhilarating. The sun's rays, while striking us aslant, furnished tranquil
warmth. And thus time wore on day after day, and we found from the record in
our log-book, we had been sailing eleven days since the storm in the open sea.
By strictest
economy, our food was holding out fairly well, but beginning to run low. In the
meantime, one of our casks of water had been exhausted, and my father
said: "We will fill it again." But, to our dismay, we found the water
was now as salt as in the region of the Lofoden Islands off
the coast of Norway
I found
myself wanting to sleep much of the time; whether it was the effect of
the exciting experience of sailing in unknown waters, or the relaxation from
the awful excitement incident to our adventure in a storm at sea, or due to
want of food, I could not say.
I frequently
lay down on the bunker of our little sloop, and looked far up into blue dome of
the sky; and, notwithstanding the sun was shining far away in the east, I
always saw a single star overhead. For several days, when I looked for this
star, it was always there directly above us.
It was now,
according to our reckoning, about the first of August. The sun was high in the
heavens, and was so bright that I could no longer see the one lone
star that attracted my attention a few days earlier.
One day
about this time, my father startled me by calling my attention to a novel sight
far in front of us, almost at the horizon. "It is a mock sun,"
exclaimed my father. "I have read of them; it is called a reflection or
mirage. It will soon pass away."
But this
dull-red, false sun, as we supposed it to be, did not pass away for several
hours; and while we were unconscious of its emitting any rays of light, still
there was no time thereafter when we could not sweep the horizon in front
and locate the illumination of the so-called false sun, during a period of at
least twelve hours out of every twenty-four.
Clouds and
mists would at times almost, but never entirely, hide its location. Gradually
it seemed to climb higher in the horizon of the uncertain purply sky as we
advanced. It could hardly be said to resemble the sun, except in its
circular shape, and when not obscured by clouds or the ocean mists, it had a
hazy-red, bronzed appearance, which would change to a white like a luminous
cloud, as if reflecting some greater light beyond.
We finally
agreed in our discussion of this smoky furnace-colored sun, that, whatever the
cause of the phenomenon, it was not a reflection of our sun, but a planet of
some sort -- a reality.
One day soon
after this, I felt exceedingly drowsy, and fell into a sound sleep. But it
seemed that I was almost immediately aroused by my father's vigorous shaking of
me by the shoulder and saying: "Olaf, awaken; there is land in
sight!"
I sprang to
my feet, and oh! joy unspeakable! There, far in the distance, yet directly in
our path, were lands jutting boldly into the sea. The shore-line stretched far
away to the right of us, as far as the eye could see, and all along the sandy
beach were waves breaking into choppy foam, receding, then going forward again,
ever chanting in monotonous thunder tones the song of the deep. The banks were
covered with trees and vegetation. I cannot express my feeling of exultation at
this discovery. My father stood motionless, with his hand on the tiller,
looking straight ahead, pouring out his heart in thankful prayer and
thanksgiving to the gods Odin and Thor.
In the
meantime, a net which we found in the stowage had been cast, and we caught a
few fish that materially added to our dwindling stock of provisions.
The compass,
which we had fastened back in its place, in fear of another storm, was still
pointing due north, and moving on its pivot, just as it had in Stockholm. The
dipping of the needle had ceased. What could this mean? Then, too, our many
days of sailing had certainly carried us far past the North Pole. And yet the
needle continued to point north. We were sorely perplexed, for surely our
direction was now south.
We sailed
for three days along the shoreline, then came to the mouth of a fjord or river
of immense size. It seemed more like a great bay, and into this we turned our
fishing- craft, the direction being slightly northeast of south. By the
assistance of a fretful wind that came to our aid about twelve hours out of
every twenty-four, we continued to make our way inland, into what afterward
proved to be a mighty river, and which we learned was called by the inhabitants
Hiddekel.
We continued
our journey for ten days thereafter, and found we had fortunately attained a
distance inland where ocean tides no longer affected the water, which had
become fresh.
The
discovery came none to soon, for our remaining cask of water was
well-nigh exhausted. We lost no time in replenishing our casks, and continued
to sail farther up the river when the wind was favorable.
Along the
banks great forests miles in extent could be seen stretching away on the shore-line.
The trees were of enormous size. We landed after anchoring near a sandy beach,
and waded ashore, and were rewarded by finding a quantity of nuts that
were very palatable and satisfying to hunger, and a welcome change from the
monotony of our stock of provisions.
It was about
the first of September, over five months, we
calculated, since our leave-taking from Stockholm
It was a
larger ship than any we had ever seen, and was differently constructed.
At this
particular time our sloop was becalmed, and not far from the shore. The bank of
the river, covered with mammoth trees,
rose up several hundred feet in beautiful
fashion. We seemed to be on the edge of some primeval forest that doubtless
stretched far inland.
The immense
craft paused, and almost immediately a boat was lowered and six men of gigantic
stature rowed to our little fishing-sloop. They spoke to us in a strange
language. We knew from their manner, however, that they were not unfriendly.
They talked a great deal among themselves, and one of them laughed
immoderately, as though in finding us a queer discovery had been made. One of
them spied our compass, and it seemed to interest them more than any other part
of our sloop.
Finally, the
leader motioned as if to ask whether we were willing to leave our craft to go
on board their ship. "What say you, my son?" asked my father.
"They cannot do any more than kill us."
"They
seem to be kindly disposed," I replied, "although what terrible
giants! They must be the select six of the kingdom's crack regiment. Just look
at their great size."
"We may
as well go willingly as be taken by force," said my father, smiling,
"for they are certainly able to capture us." Thereupon he made known,
by signs, that we were ready to accompany them.
Within a few
minutes we were on board the ship, and half an hour later our little
fishing-craft had been lifted bodily out of the water by a strange sort of hook
and tackle, and set on board as a curiosity.
There were
several hundred people on board this, to us, mammoth ship, which we discovered
was called "The Naz," meaning, as we afterward learned,
"Pleasure," or to give a more proper interpretation, "Pleasure
Excursion" ship.
If my father
and I were curiously observed by the ship's occupants, this strange race of
giants offered us an equal amount of wonderment.
There was
not a single man aboard who would not have measured fully twelve feet in
height. They all wore full beards, not particularly long, but seemingly
short-cropped. They had mild and beautiful faces, exceedingly fair, with ruddy
complexions. The hair and beard of some were black, others sandy, and still
others yellow. The captain, as we designated the dignitary in command of the
great vessel, was fully a head taller than any of his companions. The women
averaged from ten to eleven feet in height. Their features were especially
regular and refined, while their complexion was of a most delicate tint
heightened by a healthful glow.
Both men and
women seemed to possess that particular case of manner which we deem a sign of
good breeding, and, notwithstanding their huge statures, there was nothing
about them suggesting awkwardness. As I was a lad in only my nineteenth year, I
was doubtless looked upon as a true Tom Thumb. My father's six feet three did
not lift the top of his head above the waist line of these people.
Each one
seemed to vie with the others in extending courtesies and showing
kindness to us, but all laughed heartily, I remember, when they had to
improvise chairs for my father and myself to sit at table. They were richly
attired in a costume peculiar to themselves, and very attractive. The men were
clothed in handsomely embroidered tunics of silk and satin and belted at the
waist. They wore knee-breeches and stockings of a fine texture, while their
feet were encased in sandals adorned with gold buckles. We early discovered
that gold was one of the most common metals known, and that it was used
extensively in decoration.
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,
absurdly, 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
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.
One day an
envoy from the Ruler at "Eden" came to see us, and for two whole days
my father and myself were put through a series of surprising questions. They
wished to know from whence we came, what sort of people dwelt
"without," what God we worshiped, our religious beliefs, the mode of
living in our strange land, and a thousand other things.
The compass
which we had brought with us attracted especial attention. My father and
I commented between ourselves on the fact that the compass still pointed north,
although we now knew that we had sailed over the curve or edge of the earth's
aperture, and were far along southward on the "inside" surface of the
earth's crust, which, according to my father's estimate and my own, is about three
hundred miles in thickness from the "inside" to the
"outside" surface. Relatively speaking, it is no thicker than an
egg-shell, so that there is almost as much surface on the "inside" as
on the "outside" of the earth.
The great
luminous cloud or ball of dull-red fire -- fiery-red in the mornings and
evenings, and during the day giving off a beautiful white light, "The
Smoky God," -- is seemingly suspended in the center of the great vacuum
"within" the earth, and held to its place by the immutable law of
gravitation, or a repellant atmospheric force, as the case may be. I refer to
the known power that draws or repels with equal force in all directions.
The base of
this electrical cloud or central luminary, the seat of the gods, is dark and
non-transparent, save for innumerable small openings, seemingly in the bottom
of the great support or altar of the Deity, upon which "The Smoky
God" rests; and, the lights shining through these many openings twinkle at
night in all their splendor, and seem to be stars, as natural as the stars we
saw shining when in our home at Stockholm, excepting that they appear larger.
"The Smoky God," therefore, with each daily revolution of the earth,
appears to come up in the east and go down in the west the same as does our sun
on the external surface. In reality, the people "within" believe that
"The Smoky God" is the throne of their Jehovah, and is stationary.
The effect of night and day is, therefore, produced by earth's daily rotation.
I have since
discovered that the language of the people of the Inner World is much like the
Sanskrit.
After we had
given an account of ourselves to the emissaries from the central seat of
government of the inner continent, and my father had, in his crude way, drawn
maps, at their request, of the "outside" surface of the earth,
showing the divisions of land and water, and giving the name of each of the
continents, large islands and the oceans, we were taken overland to the city of
"Eden," in a conveyance different from anything we have in Europe or
America. This vehicle was doubtless some electrical contrivance. It was
noiseless, and ran on a single iron rail in perfect balance. The trip was made
at a very high rate of speed. We were carried up hills and down dales, across
valleys and again along the sides of steep mountains, without any apparent
attempt having been made to level the earth as we do for railroad tracks. The
car seats were huge yet comfortable affairs, and very high above the floor of
the car. On the top of each car were high geared fly wheels lying on their
sides, which were so automatically adjusted that, as the speed of the car
increased, the high speed of these fly wheels geometrically increased.
Jules Galdea
explained to us that these revolving fan-like wheels on top of the cars
destroyed atmospheric pressure, or what is generally understood by the term
gravitation, and with this force thus destroyed or rendered nugatory the car is
as safe from falling to one side or to other from the single rail track as if
it were in a vacuum; the fly wheels in their rapid revolutions destroying
effectually the so-called power of gravitation, or the force of atmospheric
pressure or whatever potent influence it may be that causes all unsupported
things to fall downward to the earth's surface or to the nearest point of
resistance.
The surprise
of my father and myself was indescribable when, amid the regal magnificence of
a spacious hall, we were finally brought before the Great High Priest, ruler
over all the land. He was richly robed, and much taller than those about him,
and could not have been less than fourteen or fifteen feet in height. The
immense room in which we were received seemed finished in solid slabs of gold
thickly studded with jewels of amazing brilliancy.
The city of
"Eden" is located in what seems to be a beautiful valley, yet, in
fact, it is on the loftiest mountain plateau of the Inner Continent, several
thousand feet higher than any portion of the surrounding country. It is the
most beautiful place I have ever beheld in all my travels. In this elevated
garden all manner of fruits, vines, shrubs, trees, and flowers grow in riotous
profusion.
In this
garden four rivers have their source in a mighty artesian fountain. They divide
and flow in four directions. This place is called by inhabitants the
"navel of the earth," or the beginning, "the cradle of the
human race." The names of the rivers are the Euphrates, the Pison, the Gihon, and
the Hiddeke.
The
unexpected awaited us in this palace of beauty, in the finding of our little
fishing- craft. It had been brought before the High Priest in perfect shape,
just as it had been taken from the waters that day when it was loaded on board
the ship by the people who discovered us on the river more than a year before.
We were
given an audience of over two hours with this great dignitary, who seemed
kindly disposed and considerate. He showed himself eagerly interested, asking
us numerous questions, and invariably regarding things about which his
emissaries had failed to inquire.
At the
conclusion of the interview he inquired our pleasure, asking us whether
we wished to remain in his country or if we preferred to return to the
"outer" world, providing it were possible to make a successful return
trip, across the frozen belt barriers that encircle both the northern and
southern openings of the earth.
My father
replied: "It would please me and my son to visit your country and see your
people, your colleges and palaces of music and art, your great fields, your
wonderful forests of timber; and after we have had this pleasurable privilege,
we should like to try to return to our home on the 'outside' surface of the
earth. This son is my only child, and my good wife will be weary awaiting
our return."
"I fear
you can never return," replied the Chief High Priest, "because the
way is a most hazardous one. However, you shall visit the different countries
with Jules Galdea as your escort, and be accorded every courtesy and kindness.
Whenever you are ready to attempt a return voyage, I assure you that your boat
which is here on exhibition shall be put in the waters of the river Hiddekel at
its mouth, and we will bid you Jehovah-speed."
Thus
terminated our only interview with the High Priest or Ruler of the continent.
Part 3
In The Under World
We learned
that the males do not marry before they are from seventy-five to one hundred
years old, and that the age at which women enter wedlock is only a little less,
and that both men and women frequently live to be from six to eight hundred
years old, and in some instances much older.
During the
following year we visited many villages and towns, prominent among them being
the cities of Nigi, Delfi, Hectea, and my father was called upon no less than a
half- dozen times to go over the maps which had been made from the rough
sketches he had originally given of the divisions of land and water on the
"outside" surface of the earth.
I remember
hearing my father remark that the giant race of people in the land of "The
Smoky God" had almost as accurate an idea of the geography of the
"outside" surface of the earth as had the average college professor
in Stockholm
In our
travels we came to a forest of gigantic trees, near the city of Delfi
The people
are exceedingly musical, and learned to a remarkable degree in their arts and
sciences, especially geometry and astronomy. Their cities are equipped with
vast palaces of music, where not infrequently as many as twenty-five thousand
lusty voices of this giant race swell forth in mighty choruses of the most
sublime symphonies. The children are not supposed to attend institutions of
learning before they are twenty years old. Then their school life begins and
continues for thirty years, ten of which are uniformly devoted by both sexes to
the study of music.
Their
principal vocations are architecture, agriculture, horticulture, the raising of
vast herds of cattle, and the building of conveyances peculiar to that country,
for travel on land and water. By some device which I cannot explain, they hold
communion with one another between the most distant parts of their country, on
air currents.
All
buildings are erected with special regard to strength, durability, beauty and
symmetry, and with a style of architecture vastly more attractive to the eye
than any I have ever observed elsewhere.
About
three-fourths of the "inner" surface of the earth is land and about
one-fourth water. There are numerous rivers of tremendous size, some flowing in
a northerly direction and others southerly. Some of these rivers are thirty
miles in width, and it is out of these vast waterways, at the extreme northern
and southern parts of the "inside" surface of the earth, in
regions where low temperatures are experienced, that freshwater icebergs are
formed. They are then pushed out to sea like huge tongues of ice, by the
abnormal freshets of turbulent waters that, twice every year, sweep everything
before them.
We saw
innumerable specimens of bird-life no larger than those encountered in the
forests of Europe or America
Is it not
possible that these disappearing bird species quit their habitation without,
and find an asylum in the "within world"?
Whether
inland among the mountains, or along the seashore, we found bird life prolific.
When they spread their great wings some of the birds appeared to measure thirty
feet from tip to tip. They are of great variety and many colors. We were
permitted to climb up on the edge of a rock and examine a nest of eggs. There
were five in the nest, each of which was at least two feet in length and
fifteen inches in diameter.
After we had
been in the city of Hectea
The strange
conditions "within" are favorable not only for vast meadows of
luxuriant grasses, forests of giant trees, and all manner of vegetable life,
but wonderful animal life as well.
One day we
saw a great herd of elephants. There must have been five hundred of these thunder-throated
monsters, with their restlessly waving trunks. They were tearing huge boughs
from the trees and trampling smaller growth into dust like so much hazel-
brush. They would average over 100 feet in length and from 75 to 85 in height.
It seemed,
as I gazed upon this wonderful herd of giant elephants, that I was again
living in the public library at Stockholm
There is a
hazy mist that goes up from the land each evening, and it invariably rains once
every twenty-four hours. This great moisture and invigorating electrical light
and warmth account perhaps for the luxuriant vegetation, while the highly
charged electrical air and the evenness of climatic conditions may have much to
do with giant growth and longevity of all animal life.
In places
the level valleys stretched away for many miles in every direction. "The
Smoky God", in its clear white light, looked calmly down. There was an
intoxication in the electrically surcharged air that fanned the cheek as softly
as a vanishing whisper. Nature chanted a lullaby in the faint murmur of winds
whose breath was sweet with the fragrance of bud and blossom.
After having
spent considerably more than a year in visiting several of the many cities of
the "within" world and a great deal of intervening country, and more
than two years had passed from the time we had been picked up by the great
excursion ship on the river, we decided to cast our fortunes once more upon the
sea, and endeavor to regain the "outside" surface of the earth.
We made
known our wishes, and they were reluctantly but promptly followed. Our
hosts gave my father, at his request, various maps showing the entire
"inside" surface of the earth, its cities, oceans, seas,
rivers, gulfs and bays. They also generously offered to give us all the bags of
gold nuggets -- some of them as large as a goose's egg -- that we were willing
to attempt to take with us in our little fishing-boat.
In due time
we returned to Jehu, at which place we spent one month in fixing up and
overhauling our little fishing sloop. After all was in readiness, the same ship
"Naz" that originally discovered us, took us on board and sailed to
the mouth of the river Hiddekel.
After our
giant brothers had launched our little craft for us, they were most cordially
regretful at parting, and evinced much solicitude for our safety. My father
swore by the Gods Odin and Thor that he would surely return again within a year
or two and pay them another visit. And thus we bade them adieu. We made ready
and hoisted our sail,
but there
was little breeze. We were becalmed within an hour after our giant friends had
left us and started on their return trip.
The winds
were constantly blowing south, that is, they were blowing from northern opening
of the earth toward that which we knew to be south, but which, according to our
compass's pointing finger, was directly north.
For three
days we tried to sail, and to beat against the wind, but to no avail. Whereupon
my father said: "My son, to return by the same route as we came in is
impossible at this time of year. I wonder why we did not think of this before.
We have been here almost two and a half years; therefore, this is the
season when the sun is beginning to shine in at the southern opening of the
earth. The long cold night is on in the Spitzbergen country."
"What
shall we do?" I inquired.
"There
is only one thing we can do," my father replied, "and that is to go
south." Accordingly, he turned the craft about, gave it full reef, and
started by the compass north but, in fact, directly south. The wind was strong,
and we seemed to have struck a current that was running with remarkable
swiftness in the same direction.
In just
forty days we arrived at Delfi, a city we had visited in company with our guides
Jules Galdea and his wife, near the mouth of the Gihon river. Here we stopped
for two days, and were most hospitably entertained by the same people who had
welcomed us on our former visit. We laid in some additional provisions and
again set sail, following the needle due north.
On our
outward trip we came through a narrow channel which appeared to be a separating
body of water between two considerable bodies of land. There was a
beautiful beach to our right, and we decided to reconnoiter. Casting anchor, we
waded ashore to rest up for a day before continuing the outward hazardous
undertaking. We built a fire and threw on some sticks of dry driftwood. While
my father was walking along the shore, I prepared a tempting repast from
supplies we had provided.
There was a
mild, luminous light which my father said resulted from the sun shining in from
the south aperture of the earth. That night we slept soundly, and awakened the
next morning as refreshed as if we had been in our own beds at Stockholm
After
breakfast we started out on an inland tour of discovery, but had not gone
far when we sighted some birds which we recognized at once as belonging
to the penguin family. They are flightless birds, but excellent swimmers and
tremendous in size, with white breast, short wings, black head, and long peaked
bills. They stand fully nine feet high. They looked at us with little surprise,
and presently waddled, rather than walked, toward the water, and swam away in a
northerly direction.
The events
that occurred during the following hundred or more days beggar description.
We were on an open and iceless sea.
The month we reckoned to be November or
December,
and we knew the so-called South Pole was turned toward the sun. Therefore, when
passing out and away from the internal electrical light of "The Smoky
God" and its genial warmth, we would be met by the light and warmth of the
sun, shining in through the south opening of the earth. We were not mistaken.
There
were times when our little craft,
driven by wind that was continuous and
persistent, shot through the waters like an arrow. Indeed, had we encountered a
hidden rock or obstacle, our little vessel would gave been crushed into
kindling- wood.
At last we
were conscious that the atmosphere was growing decidedly colder, and, a few
days later, icebergs were sighted far to the left. My father argued, and
correctly, that the winds which filled our sails came from the warm climate
"within." The time of the year was certainly most auspicious for us
to make our dash for the "outside" world and attempt to scud our
fishing sloop through open channels of the frozen zone which surrounds the
polar regions.
We were soon
amid the ice-packs, and how our little craft got through the narrow channels
and escaped being crushed I know not. The compass behaved in the same drunken
and unreliable fashion in passing over the southern curve or edge of the
earth's shell as it had done on our inbound trip at the northern entrance. It
gyrated, dipped and seemed like a thing possessed.
One day as I
was lazily looking over the sloop's side into the clear
waters, my
father shouted: "Breakers ahead!" Looking up, I saw through a lifting
mist a white object that towered several hundred
feet high, completely shutting off our advance. We lowered
sail immediately, and none too soon. In a moment we found ourselves wedged
between two monstrous icebergs. Each was crowding and grinding against its
fellow mountain of ice. They were like two gods of war contending for
supremacy. We were greatly alarmed. Indeed, we were between the lines of a
battle royal; the sonorous thunder of the grinding ice was like the continued
volleys of artillery. Blocks of ice larger than a house were frequently
lifted up a hundred feet by the mighty force of lateral pressure; they would
shudder and rock to and fro for a few seconds, then come crashing down with a
deafening roar, and disappear in the foaming waters. Thus, for more than two
hours, the contest of the icy giants continued.
It seemed as
if the end had come. The ice pressure was terrific, and while we were not
caught in the dangerous part of the jam, and were safe for the time being, yet
the heaving and rending of tons of ice as it fell splashing here and there into
the watery depths filled us with shaking fear.
Finally, to
our great joy, the grinding of the ice ceased, and within a few hours the great
mass slowly divided, and, as if an act of Providence
PART 4
Among
The Ice Packs
Conclusion...
For the next forty-five days our time was
employed in dodging icebergs and hunting channels; indeed, had we not been
favored with a strong south wind and a small boat, I doubt if this story could
have ever been given to the world.
At last, there came a morning when my
father said: "My son, I think we are to see home. We are almost through
the ice. See! the open water lies before us."
However, there were a few icebergs that
had floated far northward into the open water still ahead of us on either side,
stretching away for many miles. Directly in front of us, and by the compass,
which had now righted itself, due north, there was an open sea.
"What a wonderful story we have to
tell the people of Stockholm
I spoke kind words of praise to my father,
not alone for this fortitude and endurance, but also for his courageous daring
as a discoverer, and for having made the voyage that now promised a successful
end. I was grateful, too, that he had gathered the wealth of gold we were
carrying home.
While congratulating ourselves on the
goodly supply of provisions and water we still had on hand, and on the
dangers we had escaped, we were startled by hearing a most terrific explosion,
caused by the tearing apart of huge mountain of ice. It was a deafening roar
like the firing of thousand cannon. We were sailing at the time with great
speed, and happened to be near a monstrous iceberg which to all appearances was
as immovable as a rockbound island. It seemed, however, that the iceberg had
split and was breaking apart, whereupon the balance of the monster along which
we were sailing was destroyed, and it began dipping from us. My father quickly
anticipated the danger before I realized its awful possibilities. The iceberg
extended down into the water many hundreds of feet, and, as it tipped over, the
portion coming up out of the water caught our fishing-craft like a lever on a
fulcrum, and threw it into the air as if it had been a foot-ball.
Our boat fell back on the iceberg that by
this time had changed the side next to us for the top. My father was still in
the boat, having become entangled in the rigging, while I was thrown some
twenty feet away.
I quickly scrambled to my feet and shouted
to my father, who answered: "All is well." Just then a realization
dawned upon me. Horror upon horror! The blood froze in my veins. The iceberg
was still in motion, and its great weight and force in toppling over would
cause it to submerge temporarily. I fully realized what a sucking maelstorm it
would produce amid the worlds of water on every side. They would rush into the
depression in all their fury, like white-fanged wolves eager for human prey.
In this supreme moment of mental anguish,
I remember glancing at our boat, which was lying on its side, and wondering if
it could possibly right itself, and if my father could escape. Was this the end
of our struggles and adventures? Was this death? All these questions flashed
through my mind in the fraction of a second, and a moment later I was engaged
in a life and death struggle. The ponderous monolith of ice sank below the
surface, and the frigid waters gurgled around me in frenzied anger. I was in a
saucer, with the waters pouring in on every side. A moment more and I lost
consciousness.
When I partially recovered my senses, and
roused from the swoon of a half-drowned man, I found myself wet, stiff, and
almost frozen, lying on the iceberg. But there was no sign of my father or of
our little fishing sloop. The monster berg had recovered itself, and, with its
new balance, lifted its head perhaps fifty feet above the waves. The top of
this island of ice was a plateau perhaps half an acre in extent.
I loved my father well, and was
grief-stricken at the awfulness of his death. I railed at fate, that I, too,
had not been permitted to sleep with him in the depths of the ocean. Finally, I
climbed to my feet and looked about me. The purple- domed sky above, the
shoreless green ocean beneath, and only an occasional iceberg discernible! My
heart sank in hopeless despair. I cautiously picked my way across the berg
toward the other side, hoping that our fishing craft had righted itself.
Dared I think it possible that may father
still lived? It was but a ray of hope that flamed up in my heart. But the
anticipation warmed my blood in my veins and started it rushing like some rare
stimulant through every fiber of my body.
I crept close to the precipitous side of
the iceberg, and peered far down, hoping, still hoping. Then I made a circle of
the berg, scanning every foot of the way, and thus I kept going around and
around. One part of my brain was certainly becoming maniacal, while the other
part, I believe, and do to this day, was perfectly rational.
I was conscious of having made the circuit
a dozen times, and while one part of my intelligence knew, in all reason, there
was not a vestige of hope, yet some strange fascinating aberration bewitched
and compelled me still to beguile myself with expectation. The other part of my
brain seemed to tell me that while there was no possibility of my father being
alive, yet, if I quit making the circuitous pilgrimage, if I paused for a
single moment, it would be acknowledgment of defeat, and, should I do this, I felt
that I should go mad. Thus, hour after hour I walked around and around, afraid
to stop and rest, yet physically powerless to continue much longer. Oh! horror
of horrors! to be cast away in this wide expanse of waters without food or
drink, and only a treacherous iceberg for an abiding place. My heart sank
within me, and all semblance of hope was fading into black despair.
Then the hand of the Deliverer was
extended, and the death-like stillness of a solitude rapidly becoming
unbearable was suddenly broken by the firing of a signal-gun. I looked up in
startled amazement, when, I saw, less than a half-mile away, a whaling-vessel
bearing down toward me with her sail full set.
Evidently my continued activity on iceberg
had attracted their attention. On drawing near, they put out a boat, and,
descending cautiously to the water's edge, I was rescued, and a little later
lifted on board the whaling-ship.
I found it was Scotch whaler, "The Arlington Dundee
each other, shook their heads, and
insisted on my being put in a bunk under strict surveillance of the ship's
physician.
I was very weak for want of food, and had
not slept for many hours. However, after a few days' rest, I got up one morning
and dressed myself without asking permission of the physician or anyone else,
and told them that I was as sane as anyone.
The captain sent for me and again
questioned me concerning where I had come from, and how I came to be alone on
an iceberg in the far off Antarctic
Ocean
Finally after much pleading and many
promises, I was released from irons. I then and there decided to invent some
story that would satisfy the captain, and never again refer to my trip to the
land of "The Smoky God," at least until I was safe among friends.
Within a fortnight I was permitted to go
about and take my place as one of the seamen. A little later the captain asked
me for an explanation. I told him that my experience had been so horrible that
I was fearful of my memory, and begged him to permit me to leave the question
unanswered until some time in the future. "I think you are recovering
considerably," he said, "but you are not sane yet by a good
deal." "Permit me to do such work as you may assign," I replied,
"and if it does not compensate you sufficiently, I will pay you
immediately after I reach Stockholm - to the last penny." Thus the matter
rested.
On finally reaching Stockholm Antarctic
Ocean
In concluding this history of my
adventures, I wish to state that I firmly believe science is yet in its infancy
concerning the cosmology of the earth. There is so much that is unaccounted for
by the world's accepted knowledge of to-day, and will ever remain so until the
land of "The Smoky God" is known and recognized by our geographers.
It is the land from whence came the great
logs of cedar that have been found by explorers in open waters far over the
northern edge of the earth's crust, and also the bodies of mammoths whose bones
are found in vast beds on the Siberian coast.
Northern explorers have done much. Sir
John Franklin, De Haven Grinnell, Sir John Murray, Kane, Melville, Hall,
Nansen, Schwatka, Greely, Peary, Ross, Gerlache, Bernacchi, Andree, Amsden,
Amundson and others have all been striving to storm the frozen
citadel of mystery.
I firmly believe that Andree and two brave
companions, Strindberg and Fraenckell, who sailed away in the balloon
"Oreon" from the northwest coast of Spitsbergen on that Sunday
afternoon of July 11, 1897, are now in the "within" world, and
doubtless are being entertained as my father and myself were entertained by the
kind- hearted giant race inhabiting the inner Atlantic Continent.
Having, in my humble way, devoted years to
these problems, I am well acquainted with the accepted definitions of gravity,
as well as the cause of the magnetic needle's attraction, and I am prepared to
say that it is my firm belief that the magnetic needle is influenced solely by
electric currents which completely envelop the earth like a garment, and
that these electric currents in an endless circuit pass out of the southern end
of the earth's cylindrical opening, diffusing and spreading themselves over all
the "outside" surface, and rushing madly on in their course toward
the North Pole. And while these currents seemingly dash off into space at the
earth's curve or edge, yet they drop again to the "inside" surface
and continue their way southward along the inside of the earth's crust, toward
the opening of the so-called South Pole.
As to gravity, no one knows what it is,
because it has not been determined whether it is atmospheric pressure that
causes the apple to fall, or whether, 150 miles below the surface of the earth,
supposedly one-half way through the earth's crust, there exists some powerful
loadstone attraction that draws it. Therefore, whether the apple, when it
leaves the limb of the tree, is drawn or impelled downward to the nearest point
of resistance, is unknown to the students of physics.
Sir James Ross claimed to have discovered
the magnetic pole at about seventy-four degrees latitude. This is wrong - the
magnetic pole is exactly one-half the distance through the earth's crust. Thus,
if the earth's crust is three hundred miles in thickness, which is the distance
I estimate it to be, then the magnetic pole is undoubtedly one hundred and
fifty miles below the surface of the earth, it matters not where the test is
made. And at this particular point one hundred and fifty miles below the
surface, gravity ceases, becomes neutralized; and when we pass beyond that
point on toward the "inside" surface of the earth, a reverse
attraction geometrically increases in power, until the other one hundred and
fifty miles of distance is traversed, which would bring us out on the
"inside" of the earth.
Thus, if a hole were bored down through
the earth's crust at London, Paris, New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles, a
distance of three hundred miles, it would connect the two surfaces. While the
inertia and momentum of a weight dropped in from the "outside"
surface would carry it far past the magnetic center, yet, before reaching the
"inside" surface of the earth it would gradually diminish in speed,
after passing the half-way point, finally pause and immediately fall back
toward the "outside" surface, and continue thus to oscillate, like
the swinging of a pendulum with the power removed, until it would finally rest
at the magnetic center, or at that particular point exactly one- half the
distance between the "outside" surface and the "inside"
surface of the earth.
The gyration of the earth in its daily act
of whirling around in its spiral rotation -- at a rate greater than one
thousand miles every hour, or about seventeen miles per second - makes of it a
vast electro-generating body, a huge machine, a mighty prototype of the
puny-man-made dynamo, which, at best, is but a feeble imitation of nature's
original.
The valleys of this inner Atlantis
Continent, bordering the upper waters of the farthest north are in season
covered with the most magnificent and luxuriant flowers. Not hundreds and
thousands, but millions, of acres, from which the pollen or blossoms are
carried far away in almost every direction by the earth's spiral gyrations and
the agitation of the wind resulting there from, and it is these blossoms or
pollen from the vast floral meadows "within" that produce the colored
snows of the Arctic regions that have so mystified the northern explorers.
Beyond question, this new land
"within" is the home, the cradle, of the human race, and viewed
from the standpoint of the discoveries made by us, must of necessity have a
most important bearing on all physical, paleontological, archaeological,
philological, and mythological theories of antiquity.
The same idea of going back to the land of
mystery -- to the very beginning -- to the origin of man -- is found in
Egyptian traditions of the earlier terrestrial regions of the gods, heroes and
men, from the historical fragments of Manetho, fully verified by the historical
records taken from the more recent excavations of Pompeii as well as traditions
of the North American Indians.
It is now one hour past midnight - the new
year of 1908 is here, and this is the third day thereof, and having at
last finished the record of my strange travels and adventures I wish given to
the world, I am ready, and even longing, for the peaceful rest which I am sure
will follow life's trials and vicissitudes. I am old in years, and ripe both
with adventures and sorrows, yet rich with the few friends I have cemented to
me in my struggles to lead a just and upright life. Like a story that is
well-nigh told, my life is ebbing away. The presentiment is strong within me
that I shall not live to see the rising of another sun. Thus do I conclude my
message.
Olaf Jansen.
