nd into the
darkness of the earth. But, my lord, you well know, that there are
those in Mardi, who secretly regard all stories connected with this
peak, as inventions of the people of Maramma. They deny that any thing
is to be gained by making a pilgrimage thereto. And for warranty, they
appeal to the sayings of the great prophet Alma."

Cried Mohi, "But Alma is also quoted by others, in vindication of the
pilgrimages to Ofo. They declare that the prophet himself was the
first pilgrim that thitherward journeyed: that from thence he departed
to the skies."

Now, excepting this same peak, Maramma is all rolling hill and dale,
like the sea after a storm; which then seems not to roll, but to stand
still, poising its mountains. Yet the landscape of Maramma has not the
merriness of meadows; partly because of the shadow of Ofo, and partly
because of the solemn groves in which the Morais and temples are
buried.

According to Mohi, not one solitary tree bearing fruit, not one
esculent root, grows in all the isle; the population wholly depending
upon the large tribute remitted from the neighboring shores.

"It is not that the soil is unproductive," said Mohi, "that these
things are so. It is extremely fertile; but the inhabitants say that
it would be wrong to make a Bread-fruit orchard of the holy island."

"And hence, my lord," said Babbalanja, "while others are charged with
the business of their temporal welfare, these Islanders take no thought
of the morrow; and broad Maramma lies one fertile waste in the lagoon."

CHAPTER II
They Land

Coming close to the island, the pennons and trappings of our canoes
were removed; and Vee-Vee was commanded to descend from the shark's
mouth; and for a time to lay aside his conch. In token of reverence,
our paddlers also stripped to the waist; an example which even Media
followed; though, as a king, the same homage he rendered, was at times
rendered himself.

At every place, hitherto visited, joyous crowds stood ready to hail
our arrival; but the shores of Maramma were silent, and forlorn.

Said Babbalanja, "It looks not as if the lost one were here."

At length we landed in a little cove nigh a valley, which Mohi called
Uma; and here in silence we beached our canoes.

But presently, there came to us an old man, with a beard white as the
mane of the pale horse. He was clad in a midnight robe. He fanned
himself with a fan of faded leaves. A child led him by the hand, for
h