By William Hope Hodgson
- being the second chapter of THE NIGHT LAND
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Since Mirdath, My Beautiful One, died and left me lonely in this
world, I have suffered an anguish, and an utter and dreadful pain
of longing, such as truly no words shall ever tell; for, in truth,
I that had all the
world through her sweet love and companionship, and knew all the
joy
and gladness of Life, have known such lonesome misery as doth stun me
to think upon.
Yet am I to my pen again; for of late a wondrous hope has grown in me,
in that I have, at night in my sleep, waked into the future of this
world, and seen strange things and utter marvels, and known once more
the gladness
of life; for I have
learned the promise of the future, and have visited in my dreams
those places where in the womb of Time, she and I shall come
together, and part, and again come together--breaking asunder
most drearly in pain, and again
reuniting after strange ages, in a glad and mighty wonder.
And this is the utter strange story of that which I have seen,
and which, truly, I must set out, if the task be not too great;
so that, in the setting out thereof, I may gain a little ease of
the heart; and likewise, mayhap,
give ease of hope to some other poor human, that doth suffer,
even as I have suffered so dreadful with longing for Mine Own
that is dead.
And some shall read and say that this thing was not, and some
shall dispute with them; but to them all I say naught, save "Read!"
And having read that which I set down, then shall one and all have
looked towards Eternity
with me--unto its very portals. And so to my telling:
To me, in this last time of my visions, of which I would tell, it
was not as if I dreamed; but, as it were, that I waked there into
the dark, in the future of this world. And the sun had died; and
for me thus newly waked
into that Future, to look back upon this, our Present Age, was to
look back into dreams that my soul knew to be of reality; but which
to those
newly-seeing eyes of mine, appeared but as a far vision, strangely
hallowed with peacefulness and light.
Always, it seemed to me when I awaked into the Future, into the
Everlasting Night that lapped this world, that I saw near to me,
and girdling me all about, a blurred greyness. And presently this,
the greyness, would clear
and fade from about me, even as a dusky cloud, and I would look
out upon a world of darkness, lit here and there with strange sights.
And with my waking into that Future, I waked not to ignorance;
but to a full knowledge of those things which lit the Night Land;
even as a man wakes from sleep each
morning, and knows immediately he wakes, the names and knowledge
of the Time which has bred him, and in which he lives. And the same
while, a knowledge I had, as it were sub-conscious, of this
Present--this early life,
which now I live so utterly alone.
In my earliest knowledge of that place, I was a youth,
seventeen years grown, and my memory tells me that when
first I waked, or came, as it might be said, to myself,
in that Future, I stood in one of the embrasures of the
Last Redoubt--that great Pyramid of grey metal which held
the last millions of this world from the Powers of the Slayers.
And so full am I of the knowledge of that Place, that
scarce can I believe that none here know; and because
I have such difficulty, it may be that I speak over
familiarly of those things of which I know; and heed
not to explain much that it is needful that
I should explain to those who must read here, in this our
present day. For there, as I stood and looked
out, I was less the man of years of this age, than
the youth of that, with the natural knowledge of
that life which
I had gathered by living all my seventeen
years of life there; though, until that my first vision, I (of
this Age) knew not of that other and Future Existence; yet woke
to it so naturally as may a man wake here in his bed to the
shining of the morning sun, and know it by name, and the
meaning of
aught else. And yet, as I stood there in the vast embrasure,
I had also a knowledge, or memory, of this
present life of ours, deep down within me; but touched with a
halo of dreams, and yet with a conscious longing for One,
known even there in a half memory as Mirdath.
As I have said, in my earliest memory, I mind that I stood
in an embrasure, high up in the side of the Pyramid, and
looked outwards through a queer spy-glass to the North-West.
Aye, full of youth and with an
adventurous and yet half-fearful heart.
And in my brain was, as I have told, the knowledge that had
come to me in all the years of my life in the Redoubt; and yet
until that moment, this Man of this Present Time had no knowledge
of that future existence; and now I stood and had suddenly the
knowledge of a life already spent in that strange land, and
deeper within me the misty knowings of this our
present Age, and, maybe, also of some others.
To the North-West I looked through the queer spy-glass, and saw
a landscape that I had looked upon and pored upon through all the
years of that life, so that I knew how to name this thing and
that thing, and give the very distances of each and every one
from the "Centre-Point" of the Pyramid, which was that which had
neither length nor breadth, and was made of
polished metal in the Room of Mathematics, where I went daily to
my studies.
To the North-West I looked, and in the wide field of my glass,
saw plain the bright glare of the fire from the Red Pit, shine
upwards against the underside of the vast chin of the North-West
Watcher--The Watching Thing of the North-West. . . . "That which
hath
Watched from the Beginning, and until the opening of the Gateway
of Eternity" came into my thoughts,
as I looked through the glass . . . the words of Æsworpth, the
Ancient Poet (though incredibly future to this our time). And
suddenly they seemed at fault; for I looked deep down into my
being, and saw, as dreams are seen,
the sunlight and splendour of this our Present Age. And I was
amazed.
And here I must make it clear to all that, even as I waked from
this Age, suddenly into that life, so must I--that youth there
in the embrasure--have awakened then to the knowledge of this
far-back life of ours--seeming to him a
vision of the very beginnings of eternity, in the dawn of the
world. Oh! I do but dread I make it not sufficient clear that
I and he
were both I--the same soul. He of that far date seeing vaguely
the life that was (that I do now live in this present Age);
and I of this time beholding the life that I yet shall live.
How utterly strange!
And yet, I do not know that I speak holy truth to say that I,
in that future time, had no knowledge of this life and Age,
before that awakening; for I woke to find that I was one who
stood apart from the other youths, in that I had a dim
knowledge--visionary,
as it were, of the past, which confounded,
whilst yet it angered, those who were the men of learning of that
age; though of this matter, more anon. But this I do know,
that from that time, onwards, my knowledge and assuredness
of the Past was tenfold; for this my memory of that life told me.
And so to further my telling. Yet before I pass onwards,
one other thing is there of which I shall speak--In the
moment in which I waked out of that youthfulness, into the
assured awaredness of this our Age, in that moment the
hunger of this my love flew to me
across the ages; so that what had been but a memory-dream,
grew to the pain of Reality, and I knew suddenly
that I lacked; and from that time onwards, I went, listening,
as even now my life is spent.
And so it was that I (fresh-born in that future time) hungered
strangely for My Beautiful One with all the strength of that
new life, knowing that she had been mine, and might live again,
even as I. And so, as I have said, I hungered, and found that I
listened.
And now, to go back from my digression, it was, as I have said,
I had amazement at perceiving, in memory, the unknowable sunshine
and splendour of this age breaking so clear through my hitherto
most vague and hazy visions; so that the ignorance of Æsworpth was
shouted to me by the things which now I knew.
And from that time, onward, for a little space, I was stunned with
all that I knew and guessed and felt; and all of a long while the
hunger grew for that one I had lost in the early days--she who had
sung to me in those faery days of light, that had been in
verity. And the especial thoughts of that age looked back with a
keen, regretful wonder into the gulf of forgetfulness.
But, presently, I turned from the haze and pain of my
dream-memories, once more to the inconceivable mystery
of the Night Land, which I viewed through the great embrasure.
For on none did it ever come with weariness to look out upon
all the hideous mysteries;
so that old and young watched, from early years to death, the
black monstrosity of the Night Land, which this our
last refuge of humanity held at bay.
To the right of the Red Pit there lay a long, sinuous glare,
which I knew as the Vale of Red Fire, and beyond that for many
dreary miles the blackness of the Night Land; across which came
the coldness of the light from the Plain of Blue Fire.
And then, on the very borders of the Unknown Lands, there lay a
range of low volcanoes, which lit up, far away in the outer
darkness, the Black Hills, where shone the Seven Lights,
which neither twinkled nor moved nor faltered through
Eternity; and of which even
the great spy-glass could make no understanding; nor had
any adventurer from the Pyramid ever come back to tell
us aught of them. And here let me say, that down in the
Great Library of the Redoubt, were the histories of all
those, with their discoveries,
who had ventured out into the monstrousness of the Night Land,
risking not the life only, but the spirit of life.
And surely it is all so strange and wonderful to set out,
that I could almost despair with the contemplation of that
which I must achieve; for there is so much to tell, and so
few words given to man by which he may make clear that which
lies beyond the sight
and the present and general knowings of Peoples.
How shall you ever know, as I know in verity, of the greatness
and reality and terror of the thing that I would tell plain to
all; for we, with our puny span of recorded life must have great
histories to tell, but the few bare details we know concerning
years that are but a few thousands in all; and I must
set out to you in the short pages of this my life there, a
sufficiency
of the life that had been, and the life that was, both within
and without that mighty Pyramid,
to make clear to those who may read, the truth of that which I
would tell;
and the histories of that great Redoubt dealt not with odd
thousands of years; but with very millions;
aye, away back into what they of that Age conceived to be
the early days of the earth, when the sun, maybe, still
gloomed dully in the night sky of the world. But of all
that went before, nothing, save as myths, and matters to
be taken most cautiously, and believed not by men of sanity
and proved wisdom.
And I, . . . how shall I make all this clear to you who may
read? The thing cannot be; and yet I must tell my history;
for to be silent before so much wonder would be to suffer
of too full a heart; and I must even ease my spirit by this
my struggle to tell to all how it was with me, and how it
will be. Aye,
even to the memories which were the possession of that far future
youth,
who was indeed I, of his childhood's days, when his nurse of that
Age swung him, and crooned impossible lullabies of this mythical
sun which,
according to those future fairy-tales, had once passed across the
blackness that now lay above the Pyramid.
Such is the monstrous futureness of this which I have seen
through the body of that far-off youth.
And so back to my telling. To my right, which was to the North,
there stood, very far away, the House of Silence, upon a low
hill. And in that House were many lights, and no sound. And
so had it been through an uncountable Eternity of Years. Always
those steady lights, and no whisper of
sound--not even such as our distance-microphones could have
discovered. And the danger
of this House was accounted the greatest danger of all those
Lands.
And round by the House of Silence, wound the Road Where
The Silent Ones Walk. And concerning this Road, which
passed out of the Unknown Lands, nigh by the Place of
the Ab-humans, where was always the green, luminous mist,
nothing was known; save that it was held that, of all the
works about the Mighty
Pyramid, it was, alone, the one that was bred, long ages past,
of healthy human
toil and labour. And on this point alone, had a thousand books,
and more, been writ; and all contrary, and so to no end, as is
ever the way in such matters.
And as it was with the Road Where The Silent Ones Walk, so it
was with all those other monstrous things . . . whole libraries
had there been made upon this and upon that; and many a thousand
million mouldered into the forgotten dust of the earlier world.
I mind me now that presently I stepped upon the central
travelling-roadway which spanned the one thousandth plateau
of the Great Redoubt. And this lay six miles and thirty fathoms
above the Plain of the Night Land, and was somewhat of a
great mile or more across. And so, in a few minutes,
I was at the
South-Eastern wall, and looking out through The Great
Embrasure towards the
Three Silver-fire Holes, that shone before the Thing That
Nods, away down, far in the South-East. Southward of this,
but nearer, there rose the vast bulk of the South-East
Watcher--The
Watching Thing of the South-East. And to the right and to
the left of the squat monster burned the Torches; maybe
half-a-mile upon each side; yet sufficient light they
threw to show the lumbered-forward head of the
never-sleeping Brute.
To the East, as I stood there in the quietness of the
Sleeping-Time on the One Thousandth Plateau, I heard a far,
dreadful sound, down in the lightless East; and, presently,
again--a strange, dreadful laughter, deep as a low thunder
among the mountains. And because this sound came odd
whiles from the Unknown Lands beyond the Valley of The Hounds,
we had named that far and
never-seen Place "The Country Whence Comes The Great Laughter."
And though I had heard the sound, many and oft a time, yet did
I never hear it without a most strange thrilling of my heart,
and a sense of my littleness,
and of the utter terror which had beset the last millions of the
world.
Yet, because I had heard the Laughter oft, I paid not over-long
attention to my thoughts upon it; and when, in a little it
died away into that Eastern Darkness, I turned my spy-glass
upon the Giants' Pit, which lay to the South of the Giants'
Kilns. And these same Kilns were tended by the giants, and the
light of the Kilns was red and fitful, and threw wavering
shadows and
lights across
the mouth of the pit; so that I saw giants crawling up out of
the pit; but not properly seen, by reason of the dance of the
shadows. And so, because ever there was so much to behold,
I looked away, presently, to that which was plainer to be examined.
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To the back of the Giants' Pit was a great, black Headland,
that stood vast, between the Valley of The Hounds (where
lived the monstrous Night Hounds) and the Giants. And the
light of the Kilns struck the brow of this black Headland;
so that, constantly, I saw things peer over the edge,
coming forward a little into the light of the Kilns, and
drawing back swiftly into the shadows.
And thus it had been ever, through the uncounted ages; so
that the Headland was known as The Headland From Which
Strange Things Peer; and thus was it marked in our maps
and charts of that grim world.
And so I could go on ever; but that I fear to weary; and
yet, whether I do weary, or not, I must tell of this country
that I see, even now as I set my thoughts down, so plainly
that my memory wanders in a hushed and secret fashion along
its starkness, and amid its strange and dread habitants, so
that it is but by an effort I realise me that my body is not
there in this very moment
that I write. And so to further tellings:
Before me ran the Road Where The Silent Ones Walk; and I
searched it, as many a time in my earlier youth had I, with
the spy-glass; for my heart was always stirred mightily by
the sight of those Silent Ones.
And, presently, alone in all the miles of that night-grey road,
I saw one in the field of my glass--a quiet, cloaked figure,
moving along, shrouded, and looking neither to right nor left.
And thus was it with these beings ever. It was told about in the
Redoubt that they would harm no human, if but the human did keep
a fair distance from them; but that it were wise never to come
close upon one.
And this I can well believe.
And so, searching the road with my gaze, I passed beyond this
Silent One, and past the place where the road, sweeping vastly
to the South-East, was lit a space, strangely, by the light from
the Silver-fire Holes. And thus at last to where it swayed
to the South of the Dark Palace,
and thence Southward still, until it passed round to the
Westward, beyond the mountain bulk of the Watching Thing
in the South--the hugest monster in all the visible
Night Lands. My spy-glass showed it to me with clearness--a
living hill of watchfulness, known to us as The Watcher Of The
South. It brooded there,
squat and tremendous, hunched over the pale radiance of the
Glowing Dome.
Much, I know, had been writ concerning this Odd, Vast Watcher;
for it had grown out of the blackness of the South Unknown Lands
a million years gone; and the steady growing nearness of it had
been noted and set out at length by the men they called
Monstruwacans; so that it was possible to search in our
libraries, and learn of the very coming of this Beast in
the olden-time.
And, while I mind me, there were even then, and always,
men named Monstruwacans, whose duty it was to take heed
of the great Forces, and to watch the Monsters and the
Beasts that beset the great Pyramid, and measure and record,
and have so full a knowledge of these same that,
did one but sway an head in the darkness, the same matter
was set down with particularness in the Records.
And, so to tell more about the South Watcher. A million
years gone, as I have told, came it out from the blackness
of the South, and grew steadily nearer through twenty
thousand years; but so slow that in no one year could a man
perceive that it had moved.
Yet it had movement, and had come thus far upon its road
to the Redoubt, when the Glowing Dome rose out of the
ground before it--growing slowly. And this had stayed
the way of the Monster; so that through an eternity it
had looked towards the Pyramid across the
pale glare of the Dome, and seeming to have no power
to advance nearer.
And because of this, much had been writ to prove that
there were other forces than evil at work in the
Night Lands, about the Last Redoubt. And this I have
always thought to be wisely said; and, indeed, there
to be no doubt to the matter, for there were many
things in the time of which
I have knowledge, which seemed to make clear that, even
as the Forces of Darkness were loose
upon the End of Man; so were there other Forces out to
do battle with the Terror; though in ways most strange
and unthought of by the human mind. And of this I shall
have more to tell anon.
And here, before I go further with my telling, let me set
out some of that knowledge which yet remains so clear
within my mind and heart. Of the coming of these
monstrosities and evil Forces, no man could say much
with verity; for the evil of it began before the
Histories of the Great Redoubt were shaped;
aye, even before the sun had lost all power to light;
though, it must not be a
thing of certainty, that even at this far time the
invisible, black heavens held no warmth for this world;
but of this I have no room to tell; and must pass on to
that of which I have a more certain knowledge.
The evil must surely have begun in the Days of the
Darkening (which I might liken to a story which was
believed doubtfully, much as we of this day believe
the story of the Creation). A dim record there was of
olden sciences (that are yet far off in
our future) which, disturbing the unmeasurable
Outward Powers, had allowed to pass the Barrier
of Life some of those Monsters and Ab-human creatures,
which are so wondrously cushioned from us at this normal
present. And thus there had materialized, and in other
cases developed, grotesque and horrible Creatures, which
now beset
the humans of this world. And where there was no power to
take on material form, there had been allowed to certain
dreadful Forces to have power to affect the life of the
human spirit. And this growing very dreadful,
and the world full of
lawlessness and degeneracy, there had banded together the
sound millions, and built the Last Redoubt; there in the
twilight of the world--so it seems to us, and
yet to them (bred at last to the peace of usage) as it were
the Beginning; and this I can make no clearer; and none hath
right to expect it; for my task is very great, and beyond the
power of human skill.
And when the humans had built the great Pyramid, it had one
thousand three hundred and twenty floors; and the thickness
of each floor was according to the strength of its need.
And the whole height of this pyramid exceeded seven miles,
by near a mile, and above it was a tower from which the
Watchmen looked
(these being called the Monstruwacans). But where the Redoubt was
built, I know not; save that
I believe in a mighty valley, of which I may tell more in due time.
And when the Pyramid was built, the last millions, who were the
Builders thereof, went within, and made themselves a great house
and city of this Last Redoubt. And thus began the Second History
of this world. And how shall I set it all down in these little
pages!
For my task, even as I see it, is too great for the power of
a single life and a single pen. Yet, to it!
And, later, through hundreds and thousands of years, there
grew up in the Outer Lands, beyond those which lay under
the guard of the Redoubt, mighty and lost races of
terrible creatures, half men and half beast, and evil
and dreadful; and these
made war upon the Redoubt; but were beaten off from that grim,
metal mountain, with a vast slaughter. Yet, must there have been
many such attacks, until the
electric circle was put about the Pyramid, and lit from the
Earth-Current. And the lowest half-mile of the Pyramid was sealed;
and so at last there was a peace, and the beginnings of that
Eternity of quiet watching for the day
when the Earth-Current shall become exhausted.
And, at whiles, through the forgotten centuries, had the
Creatures been glutted time and again upon such odd bands
of daring ones as had adventured forth to explore through the
mystery of the Night Lands; for of those who went, scarce any
did ever return;
for there were eyes in all that dark; and Powers and Forces
abroad which had all knowledge; or so we must fain believe.
And then, so it would seem, as that Eternal Night lengthened
itself upon the world, the power of terror grew and strengthened.
And fresh and greater monsters developed and bred out of
all space and Outward Dimensions, attracted, even as it
might be Infernal sharks, by that lonely
and mighty hill of humanity, facing its end--so near to the
Eternal, and yet so far deferred in the minds and to the
senses of those humans. And thus hath it been ever.
And all this but by the way, and vague and ill told, and set
out in despair to make a little clear the beginnings of that
State which is so strange to our conceptions, and yet which
had become a Condition of Naturalness to Humanity in that
stupendous future.
Thus had the giants come, fathered of bestial humans and
mothered of monsters. And many and diverse were the
creatures which had some human semblance; and intelligence,
mechanical and cunning; so that certain of these lesser
Brutes had machinery and underground ways,
having need to secure to themselves warmth and air, even
as healthy humans; only that they were incredibly inured
to hardship,
as they might be wolves set in
comparison with tender children. And surely, do I make this
thing clear?
And now to continue my telling concerning the Night Land.
The Watcher of the South was, as I have set to make known,
a monster differing from those other Watching Things, of
which I have spoken, and of which there were in all four.
One to the North-West, and one to the South-East, and of
these I have told;
nd the other twain lay brooding, one to the South-West,
and the other to the North-East;
and thus the four watchers kept ward through the
darkness, upon the Pyramid, and moved not, neither
gave they out any sound. Yet did we know them to be
mountains of living watchfulness and hideous and
steadfast intelligence.
And so, in a while, having listened to the sorrowful
sound which came ever to us over the Grey Dunes, from
the Country of Wailing, which lay to the South,
midway between the Redoubt and the Watcher of the South,
I passed upon one of the moving roadways over to the
South-Western side of the Pyramid, and looked from a
narrow embrasure thence far down into the Deep Valley,
which was four miles deep, and in
which was the Pit of the Red Smoke.
And the mouth of this Pit was one full mile across,
and the smoke of the Pit filled the Valley at times,
so that it seemed but as a glowing red circle amid dull
thunderous clouds of
redness. Yet the red smoke rose never much above the
Valley; so that there was clear sight across to the
country beyond. And there, along the further edge of
that great depth, were the Towers, each, maybe, a mile
high, grey and
quiet; but with a shimmer upon them.
Beyond these, South and West of them, was the enormous bulk
of the South-West Watcher, and from the ground rose what we
named the Eye Beam--a single ray of grey light, which came up
out of the ground,
and lit the right eye of the monster. And because of this
light, that eye had been mightily examined through unknown
thousands of years; and some held that the eye looked through
the light steadfastly at
the Pyramid; but others set out that the
light blinded it, and was the work of those Other Powers which
were abroad to do combat with the Evil Forces. But however this
may be, as I stood there in the embrasure, and looked at the
thing through the spy-glass, it seemed to my soul that the
Brute looked straightly at me, unwinking and steadfast, and fully
of a knowledge that I spied upon it. And this is how I felt.
To the North of this, in the direction of the West, I saw The Place
Where The Silent Ones Kill; and this was so named, because there,
maybe ten thousand years gone, certain humans adventuring
from the Pyramid,
came off the Road Where The Silent Ones Walk, and into that
place, and were immediately destroyed. And this was told by
one who escaped; though he died also very quickly; for his
heart was frozen.
And this I cannot explain; but so it was set out in the Records.
Far away beyond The Place Where The Silent Ones Kill, in the
very mouth of the Western Night was the Place of the Ab-humans,
where was lost the Road Where The Silent Ones Walk, in a dull
green, luminous mist. And of this place
nothing was known; though much it held the thoughts
and attentions of our thinkers and imaginers; for some
said that there was a Place Of Safety, differing from the
Redoubt (as we
of this day suppose Heaven to differ from the Earth),
and that the
Road led thence; but was barred by the Ab-humans.
And this I can only set down here; but with no thought
to justify or uphold it.
Later, I travelled over to the North-Eastern wall of the
Redoubt, and looked thence with my spy-glass at the Watcher
of the North-East--the Crowned Watcher it was called, in that
within the air above its vast head there hung always a
blue, luminous ring, which shed a strange light downwards
over the monster--showing a vast,
wrinkled brow (upon which an whole library had been writ);
but putting to the shadow all the lower face; all save the
ear, which came out from the
back of the head, and belled towards the Redoubt, and had
been said by some observers in the past to have been seen
to quiver; but how that might be,
I knew not; for no man of our days had seen such a thing.
And beyond the Watching Thing was The Place Where The Silent
Ones Are Never, close by the great road; which was bounded
upon the far side by The Giant's Sea; and upon the far side
of that, was a Road which was always named The Road By The
Quiet City; for it passed along that place where
burned forever the constant and never-moving lights of a
strange city; but no glass had ever shown life there; neither
had any light ever ceased to burn.
And beyond that again was the Black Mist. And here, let me say,
that the Valley of The Hounds ended towards the Lights of the
Quiet City.
And so have I set out something of that land, and of those
creatures and circumstances which beset us about, waiting
until the Day of Doom, when our Earth-Current should cease,
and leave us helpless to the Watchers and the Abundant Terror.
And there I stood, and looked forth composedly, as may one
who has been born to know of such matters, and reared in the
knowledge of them. And, anon, I would look upward, and see the
grey, metalled mountain going up measureless into the gloom
of the everlasting night; and from my feet the sheer downward
sweep of the grim, metal walls, six full miles, and more,
to the plain below.
And one thing (aye! and I fear me, many) have I missed to
set out with particularness:
There was, as you do know, all around the base of the
Pyramid, which
was five and one-quarter miles every way, a great circle of
light, which was set up by the Earth-Current, and burned
within a transparent tube; or had that appearance. And it
bounded the Pyramid for a clear mile upon every side,
and burned for ever; and none of the monsters had power ever to pass
across, because of what we did call The Air Clog that it did make,
as an invisible Wall of Safety.
And it did give out also a more subtile vibration, that did affect
the weak Brain-Elements of the monsters
and the Lower Men-Brutes. And some did hold that there went from it
a further vibration of a greater subtileness that gave a
protecting against the Evil Forces. And some quality it had truly
thiswise; for the Evil Powers had no ability to cause harm to any
within. Yet were there some dangers against which it might not
avail; but these
had no cunning to bring harm to any within the Great Redoubt who
had wisdom to meddle with no dreadfulness. And so were those last
millions guarded until the Earth-Current should be used to its
end.
And this circle is that which I have called the Electric Circle;
though with failure to explain. But there it was called only,
The Circle.
And thus have I, with great effort, made a little clear that
grim land of night, where, presently, my listening heard one
calling across the dark. And how that this grew upon me, I
will set out forthwith.
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