Rensselaer Republican, Volume 19, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 May 1887 — THE JOURNEY OF A SOUL. [ARTICLE]

THE JOURNEY OF A SOUL.

BY TOM P. MORGAN.

Harry Valjenn and Major Dartmore sat opposite each other in the latter's cheerful den, smoking and talking, its they wntehed the blue clouds roll upward and float, an azure stratum, above their head*. Jhe Major, though still firm in step and upright in carriage and with dark hair yet untouched with silver, had had a world of experience, and had traveled, rumor said, wherever the foot of man had'trod. The decorations of the den were of the trophies gathered by him in every clime, and an interesting collection they were to Harry Vaiiean's eyes. Now, as they talked, the Major sat with a scarlet Algerian fez on liis h«-nd and the stem of a hideous Tutkish pipe between his bearded'lips, and' Valjenn thought he had never met a more companionable man. They were famous friend-, those two. and I question which enjoyed the friendship of the other the belter, the Major, with bis genial, matter-of-fact ways and marvelous and ever-entertaining narratives, or Harry Valjenn, the struggling author and dreamer, with his tender, romantic fancies and visionary outbursts. The Major had been telling a weird, wild tale of adventures in Hindartan, and. Harty bad listened with that rapt, dreamy intensity peculiar to him. Then, as the narra.ive was finished and he half reclined in the comfortable divan watching the blue smoke roll lazily upward, his eyes slowly roved, as if drawn by some unseen attraction, to the pager-weight on the little table that stood beneath the collection Of barbaric and Oriental swords. It could hardly have been called an ornament, so hideously uncouth Was it. Its form was that of a misshapened and repulsive dragon of copper on a base ot the” same metal, curiously inlaid with gold, in an odd variety of patterns. The entire affair was about five inches in height and about the same in width nt The base. The head, which was singularly hideous, had eyes of fire opals that gleamed balefully with almost living glances. The mouth, turned upward and distended in a cavernous yawn, was set with teeth, evidently from some reptile monstrosity, and set rated and hooked backward in anything but an inviting way. The tongue was of gold, set at the point with a single, gleaming bloodred stone. The feet were tipped with unsheathed claws that once were the weapons of some small, savage cat-like beast. “Of all odd, ugly ornaments,” said Harry Valjean,slowly, “that paper-weight is c«r-„ tainly the most superlatively hideous it was ever my lot to see.” “So, you do not admire it, Hany boy,” returned the older man, blowing an azure cloud from,the uncouth pipe. “No, I decidedly do not admire it, Major, but, some how, whenever I turn my eyes away from it, the hideous thing draws my gaze back, almost unconsciously, with a weird fascination I cannot account for.” “Pshaw: you are getting more imaginative than ever, Harry. I fail to see anything about the ugly object to attract any one. except, perhaps, its extreme uncouthness.”

“Neither do I,” answered Harry Vai jean. “But, nevertheless, the fact still remains that that idol, or what ever you are pleased to call it, has, since I first set eyes upon it, drawn my attention more powerfully than I would have believed any inanimate night- j mare of ugliness could have done. By the ■way , J do not remember having seen it till a few minutes ago. Where have you been hiding its regal loveliness, and where did you first obtain it?” “There are several odd things connected with that hideous object,” answered Major Dartmore. “The tale is rather a. long one; however, it may serve to amuse you a trifle. The reasonyOu have not seen it before is the very prosaic one that it has been lying, unseen and uncared for, in the bottom of ! one of my numerous cases of curiosities, j Yesterday morning I exhumed it, and, membering the legend attached to it, I brought his ugliness to the lights and ( shadows of my den.” ! “The legend.' Tell me”' said Harry Vai- j jean, eagerly., . ’ j “In the first place, my manner of'coming in possession of it~was a trifle singular,” began the Major., settling himself more comfortably in an indolent attitude. “some seven or eight years ago, when, as perhaps you are aware, I was somewhat younger than I am at present, I was in company wi:fi several friends, hunting in • ' that- vast and little - known regi on, in Arkansas and the Indian Territory, com- ; monly called the Sunk Lands. This is ! a 9 explored tract of almost: impenetrable"swamps and quagmire, where the foot of man bad rarely trodden. The hunting, where the land is above water, is such as to make it a Nimrod’s paradise. A very indefinite —tradition had some trifling credence among the Indians, that somewhere in the midst of that wilderness of swamps and quagmires, with all their terrors of miasmas and reptiles, once lay an elevated tract of land, of some few acres in extent, clothed in a wealth of semitropical verdure. A mountain of some altitude, tradition said, rose from this delightful little island, and was rich iu inexhaustible stores of precious metals and copper., .’■ ■ _ ____ Here dwelt the little rfimnant of a race, the Aztecs, perhaps, who had been hemmed in, closer and closer, by the sav.iee red men, in the days before the steps of Che intruding white men defiled the huntinggrounds, and all but those who had taken refuge on the swamp island were exterminated.” “By Jove! Major”broke in Hnny Valjean, “you are getting really quite romantic amThaveexcitedriny curiosity.”’' “Thanks, Harry boy," answered the Other- “I feared you would find the tale dull and uninteresting. Well, to resume: This little band, tradition had it, had remained on the swamp island, hemmed Tn

by their savage persecutors, but manfully keeping the latter at bay. Disease Nand death crept into the ranks of both parties, and at last the red men became discouraged at the unsuccessful siege and gave if np. They went away and left the persecuted ones in peace, and at last their location and almost their very existence were forgotten, except for the tradition which was almost wholly looked upon a fable, even by those who related it. ~~ “Although we put but little faith in the legend, we resolved to make a search foi| the mysterious swamp island, not expectins' to’ discover it, but thinking we might stumble onto new and untried huntingplaces. Weeks we Were buried in the

swamps, lost to the world, and almost savages Ourselves, but always having glorious sport. One foggy, dismal day, when I hnd l»een separated from my companions for hours, J suddenly discovered, to my consternation, that I whs lost. To be lost, in thedismnl quagmires of the Sunk Lan Is is no joke, and I at once set about discovering and taking my camp-ward way. Idr hours I climbed, tramped, and waded,, only to find too late that I was at least not going in the direction of camp. Night tame on, and I sought a little > elevation and built a fire, by the side of which I essayed to make myself comfortable. The effort was unsflWiißsful. My head began to throb, as iff intent upon bursting, and my blood rusheld through my veins like a flood of flamt*, 1 and my whole person seemed afire with fever. My sight seemed to half fail me, and presently I sank to the ground unconscious. Presently m'y senses . ) nrtially returned, and I rose to my feet i mid started in a wild career through the ! tangled vines, oft-times sinking to pa y I waist in the treacherous ooze, but always! plunging onward. At last I readied the! edge of a dryer tract of ground, and al- i though my sight was a good deal like the I dim vis on of a drunken man, I saw that it was of considerable extent and believed, in my half-insane, unreasoning way, that ! had reached the island told of by the legend.

"The details are very dim to my mind, and I only remember that, in my dazed ! condition, J wandered among ruins, great and small, wi bout giving them a second" thought. Their forms I did not note, and ! only remember that all objects were strange I nnd weird to me. Finally, when 1 had wandered aimlessly for some time, I sank down exhausted, my head roaring and booming with fever till it shut out all external sound*. Reclining seemed to reI rive my lever-stricken senses somewhat land quiet my throbbing head, for pres- , ently I was enabled to take note of m v suri loinidings a trifle. As I lay I saw before ! mo the ruin of what might once have I een | a temple. Part of a wall and three Muted ■ columns were stid standing. I wondered dimly at them and then closed my eyes in sleep. , , . “I awoke with a start, and was conscious of a sound of feeble groaning behind me. Turning, I beheld a litile hut built against a half-destroyed stone wall. Staggering to the hut, I entered and beheld an emaciated figure of a man stretched on a couch of skins. His wrinkled face, as dark us that of an Indian, was like the face of a white man in features, and was creased and seamed with age to a surprising degree, Feebly he addressed me in an unknown language, and w hen I shook inv bead, he. spoke slowly in a sad mixture of English and Cherokee dialect with which 1 was familiar. He was the last of his race and dying, he said, and, in my muddled condition, I asked no questions, but attended to liis few wants as best I could. How long I was there, an inmate of the hut, I cannot tell, but I remained till the old man died. He feebly called me to his side, and drew from beneath the skimpillow of his couch the hideous object I now use as a paper-weight. It was aM he hnd to give me, he said, in his broken dialect. 'There was gold in the mountain, but that was of little value compared with this gift.' It had n strange power and had been regarded by its possessors as priceless, and now as he, the last of his race, was dying, he gave it to me. “I but dimly comprehended him, but held the hideous thing in my hand as he talked. If it only contained the power the old man so earnestly gave it credit for possessing it would be indeed priceless.” “And, what was that wonderful power?" asked Harry Valjean, with a quick breath of interest. “As near as I could gather from his utterances, in the head of the dragon lies concealed a powder’ from which, when exposed to the air, arises an almost heavenly perfume. Inhaling it produces a sort of coma. It is then, according to his theory, the dream-soul lives.”

“I do not understand,” said Valjean. “Well, as near as l ean explain what I do not understand myself,” said Major Dartmore, “it is the soul that leaves the body in dreams; while in ordinary sleep there is a consciousness, a directing force, a will, that holds the dream-soul in check, but, once under the influence of the subtle odor from the dragon’s head, that will becomes as naught. The dream-soul then annihilates space and goes whither it will, and, in this case, he assured me, it had the pqwer of returning through time and,space to the island in the swamp, and the time when the little swamp kingdom was in the height of its prosperity. Bolts nor bars had no ' effect upon it, be said. More he told me, but that is the Substance of it, and then he died, almost without a struggle. “AVhat I did, I donotknow. My com- ' rades found me nearly a week after I had i left camp, wandering daft and raging ' with swamp fever, but with the copper dracon still clutched in my hand. I “To their eager questionings I answered I with the story I have told you, and they i laughed me to scorn. It was all a hallucij nation of the fever, they said, and, but for ' the little dragon, I would have believed them.”

“What did they say about the dragon?” asked Valjean. “That was a subject upon which they all disagreed. One advances tbif theory, .and the other that, but none believed my story.. I had been insane With fever-,-they said, and had lit’le or no knowledge of where I had been or what I had done, and they were about right. But still the dragon existed and would not be done. ..away with by theories.” . “And have you never ; tried the wonderful power of the magic powder contained in the dragon’s head 0 ” questioned Harry Valjean, eagerly. • ' “No, for the very good reason that there is no powder, magic or otherwise, in the hideous object’s head 1 ; I have examined it closely, m my; a time, end have failed to discover th® slightest trace of' a davily which equid contain the wonder. Look at it yourself. The magic powder probably existed only in my wild, feverish fancy.” " Valjean examined it critically, and with hands that trembled slightly with eager ' curiosity. There was certainly no indication of any receptacle which might contain tlie odorous powder that could eau<e the 1 dream-soul to vacate the body. Valjean ' returned the ugly little idol to the table with a sigh. He would have so loved to have tested the unnatural powers of the wonderful dust. A timid-knock-was heard -at the door. “Come!” cried the Major. clearly. A bey of bashful motions and washedout appearance entered, clutching in a sunburned paw .a note. This he delivered very timidly,to Major Dartmore. .“By Ge<>ree!” crie<l the Major,as he -pe» rused the contents of the missive. “This is unfortunate as it breaks up our chat, for a time at least. Gates wants to see me on an important matter, and ! must go at once, j However, that does not prevent your amusing yourself as best yon can till I return. I shall not be absent long! Make yourself at home, Harry boy-; ta, ta!” and the genial Major was off. ... Harry Valjean gazed dreamily at the odd little dragon for some time, wondering what stories it could relate were it i endowed with life and speech. Through ' the cloud of smoke the opal eyes of the ’ idol seemed to gleam balefully, and Harry Valjean felt half fascinated by their glitter. J He lifted it again from the table, and as he i did so it slipped from his half reluctant I grasp and fell to the floor. Upon spring-

ing to recover it, he was astonished tq nqje that thq golden tongue had been dislodged from the hideously gaping mouth, revealing a little cavity beneath its former lodgment place. From the powder. now half caked into a lump, with which the indenta- , tion was filled, arose a pungent, sweetly sickening or or that was inexpressibly pleasant to Harry Valjean’s nostrils. He sank back in bis chair with a sigh of infinite -ati-factioii. 0 “It is like the nectar of the gods!” he I cried in ecstatic delight, He forgot the overturned dragon, everything, m the bliss of the glorious inhtdai tion. His suiroundings, the room and its I contents, faded from his eyes, and his sight , only beheld the dragon. It righted jitself, : and, surrounded bytan encircling mist of j the smoky vapor that poured from its ( gaping mouth, grew in size, increased, i broadened, heigthened, widened, and Harry | Valjean.was vastly overtopped by it nnd its fellows, that now stood in two symmetrical ! rows. A new Inngunge sprang to Valjenn’s I lips, and even his thoughts were couched !in the strange tongue. The idol no longer I appeared dull and lifeless, bnt seemed to I breathe forth the vapor that was so enjoyable to Harry Valjean’s nostrils. This dragon ho called in his thoughts the •dragon, for it was the only one that seemed endowed with life. All the rest sat solemn in their graven gravity and hideousness. I'], the dragon-guarded avenue, shaded by bending bougho of strange trees, aud kicking aside the rare, unnatural foliage of unearthly flowers, Valjean strode, attracted by the sound of weird music, uncanny in its glorious sweetness. At each side of the avenue, back of the dragon idol, were structures of rare architectural beauty,.but strange forms. Among and about them, human beings were moving. 1 ' They had the features of Europeans, but were of a dark, rich complexion. The beautiful, unearthly music grew louder and more entrancing, hnd Valjenn suddenly came to a temple-like building that, before, had seemed to be hidden by the dimness of a great distance, but now was just before him. Great fluted columns and pillars of some rare, unknown stone upheld the ponderous, over-hanging roof. Adi were adorned with carvings, lin'd evefy part of the great building seemed to be inlaid with precioustatones, ivory, and rare woods, ip barbaric splendor. The vast structure seeitaed to stretch away and be lost in the dim distance. Valjean took little notice of time or space, but continued to advance over the marble aud ebony floor of the stately edifice toward the-weird, sweet music, that grew louder and more entrancing as he neared its source.

He turned aside; drawn by the magic strains, and found himself in a room of almost inconceivable sjilendor. But Valjean saw it nofc. His eyes were riveted in a souEenslaved look on the perfect being who produced, from a strangely-fashioned guitar, the melodies that had so entranced him. The odor of paradise filled the room and intoxicated Valjean with a flood of delight. The beauteous being laid aside the instrument, and, with a glad, welcoming cry, sprang from the rich divan, half throne, half couch, and advanced to Valjean’s side. With sweet words of welcome she led . him to the divan and seated herself beside him. Her robe of rare fabrics adorned with gems and precious metal, draped enchantingly, half repealing, half concealing, a form perfect in its voluptuous beauty. Her face was that of a vision of loveliness. When, with her soft, rounded arms about his neck, drawing his resistless head against her swelling bosom and her bewitching face close to his, she chided him for being so tardy in coming "at her bidding,'Valjean wondered dimly why he had neglected this beauteous being so long, when he seemed to have a consciousness that he had but left her for a season when he went to earth.

It seemed days and weeks to Valjean that he lingered at her side, a willing captive. They were all in all to each other, and knew no past, no future, and lived only for the present. Each anticipated the wish of the other, and it wr.s fulfilled almost before it was formed. And Valjean was happy, more happy than mortals are, as he lingered in her enchanting presence, and lived a hundred lives of ecstasy and pleasure. They were constantly together, and wandered through the beauteous bowers of strange plant growths, renewing the vows they had made before Valjean went to earth. One day the elements seemed angry with the little kingdom of enchantment. The sunlight was blotted almost into oblivion at a breath. Great clouds of inky blackness overspread , the sky and seemed to shed a rain of blood. The inhabitants of rhe kingdom gathered frantically around the smoking idol, which now occupied the center of the beautiful room in which Valjean first met his perfect love. She, the prie-tess to the great idol, placed heavenly incense on the sacred fire, and cried aloud the prayers of her people. The vengeful clouds gathered thicker and .faster, and the -thunder boomed and crashed like a thousand parks of artillery. The, great building shook and trembled in the tempest that raged without. The hideous face of the idol Wore a terrifying frown, and the baleful eyes emitted sparks of fire. The roar of the tempest was almost deafening, but above it rose sweet and silvery the voice of the beautiful priestess as she chanted the supplications other people. ;

Suddenly they raised their bowed heads and glared at Valjean. “It is the work of the intruder!” thev cried. "The gods are angry at his presence, and only his blood will appease them!” Their words rose almost to a roar of maledictions. The great idol seemed to smile. With their dark faces aflame with passion they- sprang toward Valjean, their hands grasping gleaming weapons. In spite of his mad struggles, they held him fast, and one, a giant, raised a glittering sacritical sword,-snatched from an altar, arid, in another moment, would have cleft his skull in twain. The beautiful priestess sprang forward, her jeweled robe flowing away from the snowy loveliness of her>heaving bosom, and shrieked, in a voice that rose above the roar of the “tempest, a warning couched in scathing ’terms, threatening the instant vengeance of the gods if they dared to harm a hair of Valjean’s head. She drew him to her side before the idol, and, with her clinging arms around him, warned them not to advance a step. The tempest increased in’ power and fury and the great building rocked like a house of clouds. A moment the band of insurgents hesitate!, and then with wild cries sprang forward. She drew a jeweled dagger from her girdle, and whispered close to his ear: "We will die together!” Astrong languor seemed to hold Valjean in charns, and he cared not if he perished, merely feeling as a passive spec - tutor. And there, beneath the frown of the idol. the priestess stood at bay, with an arm about Valjean’s neck, and the dagger gleaming defiance. Then, as the insurgents were about td spring upon them, the tempest rent the great building in twain, and it came crashing down upon them with a shock that seemed to blot out every atom of life into the darkness of death. Valjean strove, newly awakened by the first sound of ruin, to save the beautiful being, he knew not how, but the tempest snatched her from him and sped away into the outer darkness. Her last shriek rang in his ears: “We shall meet on earth!” she cried, and the darkness enshrouded her lovely face, 3he idol seemed io shrink within itself from very fear,

! and then, the great structure fell on Valjean’s bared head, nnd he fell, unconscious, dead to pain, everything. Strong hands lifted him up, and Major Dartmore called, excitedly: “Valjean, what in Heaven’s name is the matter?” Valjenn opened bis eyes slowly. “Am I dead '” h>* asked, dully. “She promised to meet me.” . > ‘ • “Well, upon myv soulLHaj-yy boy,” said the Major; “you have had a bad attack tP be sure.’ So she promised to meet you, eh?” “Yes," said Valjean, slowly, looking with an almost vacant stare at. Major Dartmore. "Who are you?” he queried. “Well, by George! that’s a good pne,” roared the Major. “Here, I come home after an hour’s absence, and find you wallowing around the floor, and then you have the colossal gall to ask me a question of that kind. Well. I’ll be hanged!” Valjean slowly regained his scattered senses. He picked up the overturned paper-weight. "Sea?" he said. “Yes, I see.” answered the other, “that you have broken the tongue out of my dragon. How came you down on the floor there, anyhow?” e . Valjean showed him the cavity that the displacement of the tongue revealed. “Uy George!” was the Major’s only comment.

The cavity contained only a dry, odorless cake, the volatile t erfnme having totally 1 disappeared. Then Valjean, with many gestures of nervous excitement, told the tale of his-vision, and he and the Major puzzled their brains greatly over it. “She promised to meet me on earth,” said Valjean, earnestly. “Andl’ll find her if it takes a life time.” Both he and Major Dartmore are on the qiti rive for the beautiful priestess of Valjean’s vision, who never fulfills her promise.