46 



THE MUSEUM. 



gold. Now our dreams were to come 

 true and we were indeed to tread that 

 fairy-land. We might not have the 

 luck of the mariner in the song who 



"Fell overboard in a gale. 



And found down below where the seaweeds 



grow, 

 Such a lovel} maid with a tail," 



but we should certainly pluck strange 

 growths at the bottom of the sea as 

 one might pick flowers in a meadow. 



A trim launch sped with us from 

 Circular Quay down the famous Syd- 

 ney Harbor, past bay after bay, some 

 lined with wharves and shipping and 

 some with trees growing to the water's 

 edge, by rocks and white sandy 

 beaches, past point and headland gay 

 with villas and gardens, or sombre 

 with eucalypt forest. So familiar was 

 the scene to us, that we smoked and 

 chatted, unmindful of its beauties, till 

 we reached a flotilla of punts and 

 barges moored near the Heads. 



After a cup of tea with the overseer, 

 we prepared for our descent by divest- 

 ing ourselves of boots, coat, vest and 

 collar. A couple of laborers officiated 

 as my valets dc cliambrc, wrapping 

 me first in thick flannel socks, trousers 

 and jacket, and then in a canvas over- 

 all garment which left only the head 

 and hands uncovered. The hands be- 

 ing left bare, the sleeves were secured 

 at the wrists by rubber cuffe and brace- 

 lets. My feet were thrust into a pair 

 of enormous boots, each sole of which 

 was weighted with 25 pounds of lead. 

 Bending my head, two men placed 

 over it a huge diver's helmet and 

 screwed it into a brass collar of the 

 canvas dress. My costume completed 

 by slinging on chest and back two large 

 metal weights, I was told to rise. 

 Thus encumbered, it was no slight ex- 



ertion to get up, take three steps to the- 

 ladder, and descend into the water 

 knee deep. There I halted while my 

 signal cord was belted round my waist; 

 my air-tube, which reminds me of a 

 garden hose, was screwed to my hel- 

 met and the pump commenced to force 

 air through it. Einally an attendant 

 screwed a plate-glass front, the size of 

 of a saucer, into my helmet; from the 

 inside, this last operation resembled 

 the closing of a coffin-lid. Some one 

 tapped my helmet twice, the submar- 

 ine single for "all's well," and I 

 started. 



Stepping off the bottom round of the 

 short ladder, down I went, till the keel 

 of the barge loomed up, rose and pass- 

 ed me — down, down into the green 

 sea W9.ter, watching the silvery bubbles 

 stream upward — down, down, down, 

 as the water darkened. That sensa- 

 tion of gliding down into an emerald 

 abyss, was the weirdest, dreamiest 

 thing I ever felt. Then so gently did 

 I alight, that I merely noticed that I 

 had ceased to fall. At my feet I saw 

 rock and sand and seaweed; looking up 

 I saw a monster in a helmet with two 

 ropes leading away upto where the 

 sky ought to be. The monster's face 

 showed through the little window as a 

 big fair mustache and a pair of kindly 

 blue eyes. Fetching out of a capa- 

 cious trouscr pocket a small school 

 slate he wrote, "How do you feel.^ 

 Shall we go on.'" and held it up. Tak- 

 ing his slate, I wrote, "First rate; go 

 on." He read the message, gravely 

 rubbed the slate clean with his finger, 

 pocketed it, and held out his hand. I 

 grasped it and wc started for a walk at 

 the bottom of the sea. 



Then I noticed a pain in my ears; 

 the compressed air was hurting me.. 



