rous display of all the glories of nature
that burst at once upon my view. There was that same boundless sea,
rising up high toward the horizon, as I had seen it before, and
suggesting infinite extent. There were the blue waters breaking into
foam, the ships traversing the deep, the far-encircling shores green
in vegetation, the high rampart of ice-bound mountains that shut in
the land, making it a world by itself. There was the sun, low on the
horizon, which it traversed on its long orbit, lighting up all these
scenes till the six-months day should end and the six-months night
begin.

For a long time I stood feasting my eyes upon all this splendor, and
at length turned to see whether Almah shared my feelings. One look was
enough. She stood absorbed in the scene, as though she were drinking
in deep draughts of all this matchless beauty. I felt amazed at this;
I saw how different she seemed from the others, and could not account
for it. But as yet I knew too little of the language to question her,
and could only hope for a future explanation when I had learned more.

We descended at length and walked about the terrace and up and down
the side streets. All were the same as I had noticed before--terraced
streets, with caverns on one side and massive stone structures on the
other. I saw deep channels, which were used as drains to carry down
mountain torrents. I did not see all at this first walk, but I
inspected the whole city in many subsequent walks until its outlines
were all familiar. I found it about a mile long and about half a
mile wide, constructed in a series of terraces, which rose one above
another in a hollow of the mountains round a harbor of the sea. On my
walks I met with but few people on the streets, and they all seemed
troubled with the light. I saw also occasionally some more of those
great birds, the name of which I learned from Almah; it was "opkuk."

For some time my life went on most delightfully. I found myself
surrounded with every comfort and luxury. Almah was my constant
associate, and all around regarded us with the profoundest respect.
The people were the mildest, most gentle, and most generous that I had
ever seen. The Kohen seemed to pass most of his time in making new
contrivances for my happiness. This strange people, in their dealings
with me and with one another, seemed animated by a universal desire to
do kindly acts; and the only possible objection against them was their
singular love