our Instruments.

And of the Underground Fields (though in that age we called them no more
than "The Fields") I should set down a little; for they were the
mightiest work of this world; so that even the Last Redoubt was but a
small thing beside them. An hundred miles deep lay the lowest of the
Underground Fields, and was an hundred miles from side to side, every
way; and above it there were three hundred and six fields, each one less
in area than that beneath; and in this wise they tapered, until the
topmost field which lay direct beneath the lowermost floor of the Great
Redoubt, was but four miles every way.

And thus it will be seen that these fields, lying one beneath the other,
formed a mighty and incredible Pyramid of Country Lands in the deep
earth, an hundred miles from the base unto the topmost field.

And the whole was sheathed-in at the sides with the grey metal of which
the Redoubt was builded; and each field was pillared, and floored
beneath the soil, with this same compound of wonder; and so was it
secure, and the monsters could not dig into that mighty garden from
without.

And all of that Underground Land was lit, where needed, by the
Earth-Current, and that same life-stream fructified the soil, and gave
life and blood to the plants and to the trees, and to every bush and
natural thing.

And the making of those Fields had taken maybe a million years, and the
"dump" thereof had been cast into the "Crack," whence came the
Earth-Current, and which had bottom beyond all soundings. And this
Underground Country had its own winds and air-currents; so that, to my
memory, it was in no ways connected to the monstrous air-shafts of the
Pyramid; but in this I may be mistaken; for it has not been given to me
to know all that is to be known concerning that vast Redoubt; nor by any
one man could so much knowledge be achieved.

Yet that there were wise and justly promoted winds in that Underground
Country, I do know; for healthful and sweet they were, and in the
corn-fields there was the sweet rustle of grain, and the glad, silken
laughter of poppies, all beneath a warm and happy light. And here, did
the millions walk and take excursion, and go orderly or not, even as in
these days.

And all this have I seen, and the talk of a thousand lovers in the
gardens of that place, comes back to me; and with it all the memory of
my dear one; and of a faint calling that would seem to whisper about me
at times; but so faint