308 



THE IRRIGATION AGE. 



on my weary soul like the sweetest 

 dewdrops on the parched soil," re- 

 plied the culprit, "but though the 

 tale be somewhat long, yet my 

 wondrous story will well entertain 

 you, have you but patience to hear 

 your unworthy servant to the end. 

 Know, then, that our courage 

 availed but little against their cun- 

 ning, and Siva must have been on 

 their side. We were soon conquered 

 and our land laid waste. I, O, hon- 

 ored Judge, was among those con- 

 demned to be shot from the yawn- 

 ing mouth of the cannon. Then, 

 before the hated lines of the ruffian 

 red-coats I was jammed into the 

 immense gun, and the fuse was ig- 

 nited. 1 passed through an age of 

 apprehension and suspense, then 

 followed a terrific detonation. 

 There was a glare as fiery red as 

 the burning waters in the bowels of 

 the mountain crater. The immense 

 gun hunched on its haunches like 

 the elephant on the long pull. I 

 seemed to be burned and torn, and 

 then I shot upward through space 

 and consciousness was lost. 



"How long I was bereft of sense 

 is past my ken, but it must have 

 been for hours, for when I gained 

 sensibility I was floating through 

 the realms of space. The cool, re- 

 freshing breeze of heaven was fan- 

 ning my fevered brow. Where am 

 I? Where am I going? These ques- 

 tions rushed through my mind, but 

 were unanswered. I was moving. 

 It seemed to me my progress was 

 upward. My motion was a gentle, 

 undulating one, as of a person float- 

 ing upon the gentle billows of a 

 friendly sea. I felt as light and 



airy as the leaf, dried by the hot 

 caress of the sun and separated 

 from the parent stem, tossed by the 

 zephers of autumn. On, on, on, I 

 traveled, and the thought fastened 

 itself in my mind that I was the 

 soul of my former self moving 

 through the refreshing interspace 

 to meet another earthly shell and 

 take up ray abode in a new tene- 

 ment. The down that is wafted 

 from the thistle could float no more 

 lightly than I. and lulled by the 

 cadences of space I fell asleep, but 

 to awake again and feel the same 

 sweet abandon. I cared not for 

 food or drink. The freedom and 

 ease of the bird, the eagle that 

 soared above the rocky crags and 

 rose and fell on the ripple of the 

 breeze, was mine. Elysium was 

 mine it seemed, and could I float 

 for everlasting ages in this same 

 sweet way no greater bliss could I 

 ask. 



"At last I fell into the softest, 

 most gentle slumber. My rest and 

 dreams were like those of the babe 

 that sways in the grass hammock, 

 soothed by the croon of the happy 

 mother, when the torrid air pene- 

 trates even the tangled meshes of 

 the banyan, but is cooled by the 

 moistened curtain of the bungalow. 



"From this sweet slumber I 

 awoke at last to the music of lutes 

 more charming far, it seemed to 

 me, than those I had imagined are 

 heard in paradise. Gently repos- 

 ing on a soft sward I opened my 

 eyes in wonder, expecting to find 

 that I was but the victim of a happy 

 dream. But I found myself the 

 cynosure of a swarm .of people. 



