The Smoky God


The Smoky God
Willis George Emerson

THE SMOKY GOD

OR

A Voyage to the Inner World



Dedicated
TO
MY CHUM AND COMPANION
BONNIE EMERSON
MY WIFE


    "He is the God who sits in the center, on
  the navel of the earth, and he is the interpre-
  ter of religion to all mankind." -- PLATO.

PART ONE. AUTHOR'S FOREWORD
I FEAR the seemingly incredible story which I am about to relate will be 
regarded as the result of a distorted intellect superinduced, possibly, by the 
glamour of unveiling a marvelous mystery, rather than a truthful record of the 
unparalleled experiences related by one Olaf Jansen, whose eloquent madness so 
appealed to my imagination that all thought of an analytical criticism has been 
effectually dispelled. 
Marco Polo will doubtless shift uneasily in his grave at the strange story I am 
called upon to chronicle; a story as strange as a Munchausen tale. It is also 
incongruous that I, a disbeliever, should be the one to edit the story of Olaf 
Jansen, whose name is now for the first time given to the world, yet who must 
hereafter rank as one of the notables of earth. 
I freely confess his statements admit of no rational analysis, but have to do 
with the profound mystery concerning the frozen North that for centuries has 
claimed the attention of scientists and laymen alike. 
However much they are at variance with the cosmographical manuscripts of the 
past, these plain statements may be relied upon as a record of the things Olaf 
Jansen claims to have seen with his own eyes. 
A hundred times I have asked myself whether it is possible that the world's 
geography is incomplete, and that the startling narrative of Olaf Jansen is 
predicated upon demonstrable facts. The reader may be able to answer these 
queries to his own satisfaction, however far the chronicler of this narrative 
may be from having reached a conviction. Yet sometimes even I am at a loss to 
know whether I have been led away from an abstract truth by the ignes fatui of a 
clever superstition, or whether heretofore accepted facts are, after all, 
founded upon falsity. 
It may be that the true home of Apollo was not at Delphi, but in that older 
earth-center of which Plato speaks, where he says: "Apollo's real home is among 
the Hyperboreans, in a land of perpetual life, where mythology tells us two 
doves flying from the two opposite ends of the world met in this fair region, 
the home of Apollo. Indeed, according to Hecataeus, Leto, the mother of Apollo, 
was born on an island in the Arctic Ocean far beyond the North Wind." 
It is not my intention to attempt a discussion of the theogony of the deities 
nor the cosmogony of the world. My simple duty is to enlighten the world 
concerning a heretofore unknown portion of the universe, as it was seen and 
described by the old Norseman, Olaf Jansen. 
Interest in northern research is international. Eleven nations are engaged in, 
or have contributed to, the perilous work of trying to solve Earth's one 
remaining cosmological mystery. 
There is a saying, ancient as the hills, that "truth is stranger than fiction," 
and in a most startling manner has this axiom been brought home to me within the 
last fortnight. 
It was just two o'clock in the morning when I was aroused from a restful sleep 
by the vigorous ringing of my door-bell. The untimely disturber proved to be a 
messenger bearing a note, scrawled almost to the point of illegibility, from an 
old Norseman by the name of Olaf Jansen. After much deciphering, I made out the 
writing, which simply said: "Am ill unto death. Come." The call was imperative, 
and I lost no time in making ready to comply. 
Perhaps I may as well explain here that Olaf Jansen, a man who quite recently 
celebrated his ninety-fifth birthday, has for the last half-dozen years been 
living alone in an unpretentious bungalow out Glendale way, a short distance 
from the business district of Los Angeles, California. 
It was less than two years ago, while out walking one afternoon that I was 
attracted by Olaf Jansen's house and its homelike surroundings, toward its owner 
and occupant, whom I afterward came to know as a believer in the ancient worship 
of Odin and Thor. 
There was a gentleness in his face, and a kindly expression in the keenly alert 
gray eyes of this man who had lived more than four-score years and ten; and, 
withal, a sense of loneliness that appealed to my sympathy. Slightly stooped, 
and with his hands clasped behind him, he walked back and forth with slow and 
measured tread, that day when first we met. I can hardly say what particular 
motive impelled me to pause in my walk and engage him in conversation. He seemed 
pleased when I complimented him on the attractiveness of his bungalow, and on 
the well-tended vines and flowers clustering in profusion over its windows, roof 
and wide piazza. 
I soon discovered that my new acquaintance was no ordinary person, but one 
profound and learned to a remarkable degree; a man who, in the later years of 
his long life, had dug deeply into books and become strong in the power of 
meditative silence. 
I encouraged him to talk, and soon gathered that he had resided only six or 
seven years in Southern California, but had passed the dozen years prior in one 
of the middle Eastern states. Before that he had been a fisherman off the coast 
of Norway, in the region of the Lofoden Islands, from whence he had made trips 
still farther north to Spitzbergen and even to Franz Josef Land. 
When I started to take my leave, he seemed reluctant to have me go, and asked me 
to come again. Although at the time I thought nothing of it, I remember now that 
he made a peculiar remark as I extended my hand in leave-taking. "You will come 
again?" he asked. "Yes, you will come again some day. I am sure you will; and I 
shall show you my library and tell you many things of which you have never 
dreamed, things so wonderful that it may be you will not believe me." 
I laughingly assured him that I would not only come again, but would be ready to 
believe whatever he might choose to tell me of his travels and adventures. 
In the days that followed I became well acquainted with Olaf Jansen, and, little 
by little, he told me his story, so marvelous, that its very daring challenges 
reason and belief. The old Norseman always expressed himself with so much 
earnestness and sincerity that I became enthralled by his strange narrations. 
Then came the messenger's call that night, and within the hour I was at Olaf 
Jansen's bungalow. 
He was very impatient at the long wait, although after being summoned I had come 
immediately to his bedside. 
"I must hasten," he exclaimed, while yet he held my hand in greeting. "I have 
much to tell you that you know not, and I will trust no one but you. I fully 
realize," he went on hurriedly, "that I shall not survive the night. The time 
has come to join my fathers in the great sleep." 
I adjusted the pillows to make him more comfortable, and assured him I was glad 
to be able to serve him in any way possible, for I was beginning to realize the 
seriousness of his condition. 
The lateness of the hour, the stillness of the surroundings, the uncanny feeling 
of being alone with the dying man, together with his weird story, all combined 
to make my heart beat fast and loud with a feeling for which I have no name. 
Indeed, there were many times that night by the old Norseman's couch, and there 
have been many times since, when a sensation rather than a conviction took 
possession of my very soul, and I seemed not only to believe in, but actually 
see, the strange lands, the strange people and the strange world of which he 
told, and to hear the mighty orchestral chorus of a thousand lusty voices. 
For over two hours he seemed endowed with almost superhuman strength, talking 
rapidly, and to all appearances, rationally. Finally he gave into my hands 
certain data, drawings and crude maps. "These," said he in conclusion, "I leave 
in your hands. If I can have your promise to give them to the world, I shall die 
happy, because I desire that people may know the truth, for then all mystery 
concerning the frozen Northland will be explained. There is no chance of your 
suffering the fate I suffered. They will not put you in irons, nor confine you 
in a mad-house, because you are not telling your own story, but mine, and I, 
thanks to the gods, Odin and Thor, will be in my grave, and so beyond the reach 
of disbelievers who would persecute." 
Without a thought of the farreaching results the promise entailed, or foreseeing 
the many sleepless nights which the obligation has since brought me, I gave my 
hand and with it a pledge to discharge faithfully his dying wish. 
As the sun rose over the peaks of the San Jacinto, far to the eastward, the 
spirit of Olaf Jansen, the navigator, the explorer and worshiper of Odin and 
Thor, the man whose experiences and travels, as related, are without a parallel 
in all the world's history, passed away, and I was left alone with the dead. 
And now, after having paid the last sad rites to this strange man from the 
Lofoden Islands, and the still farther "Northward Ho!", the courageous explorer 
of frozen regions, who in his declining years (after he had passed the 
four-score mark) had sought an asylum of restful peace in sun-favored 
California, I will undertake to make public his story. 
But, first of all, let me indulge in one or two reflections: 
Generation follows generation, and the traditions from the misty past are handed 
down from sire to son, but for some strange reason interest in the ice-locked 
unknown does not abate with the receding years, either in the minds of the 
ignorant or the tutored. 
With each new generation a restless impulse stirs the hearts of men to capture 
the veiled citadel of the Arctic, the circle of silence, the land of glaciers, 
cold wastes of waters and winds that are strangely warm. Increasing interest is 
manifested in the mountainous icebergs, and marvelous speculations are indulged 
in concerning the earth's center of gravity, the cradle of the tides, where the 
whales have their nurseries, where the magnetic needle goes mad, where the 
Aurora Borealis illumines the night, and where brave and courageous spirits of 
every generation dare to venture and explore, defying the dangers of the 
"Farthest North." 
One of the ablest works of recent years is "Paradise Found, or the Cradle of The 
Human Race at the North Pole," by William F. Warren. In his carefully prepared 
volume, Mr. Warren almost stubbed his toe against the real truth, but missed it 
seemingly by only a hair's breadth, if the old Norseman's revelation be true. 
Dr. Orville Livingston Leech, scientist, in a recent article, says: 
"The possibilities of a land inside the earth were first brought to my attention 
when I picked up a geode on the shores of the Great Lakes. The geode is a 
spherical and apparently solid stone, but when broken is found to be hollow and 
coated with crystals. The earth is only a larger form of a geode, and the law 
that created the geode in its hollow form undoubtedly fashioned the earth in the 
same way." 
In presenting the theme of this almost incredible story, as told by Olaf Jansen, 
and supplemented by manuscript, maps and crude drawings entrusted to me, a 
fitting introduction is found in the following quotation: 
"In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth, and the earth was 
without form and void." And also, "God created man in his own image." Therefore, 
even in things material, man must be God-like, because he is created in the 
likeness of the Father. 
A man builds a house for himself and family. The porches or verandas are all 
without, and are secondary. The building is really constructed for the 
conveniences within. 
Olaf Jansen makes the startling announcement through me, an humble instrument, 
that in like manner, God created the earth for the "within" -- that is to say, 
for its lands, seas, rivers, mountains, forests and valleys, and for its other 
internal conveniences, while the outside surface of the earth is merely the 
veranda, the porch, where things grow by comparison but sparsely, like the 
lichen on the mountain side, clinging determinedly for bare existence. 
Take an egg-shell, and from each end break out a piece as large as the end of 
this pencil. Extract its contents, and then you will have a perfect 
representation of Olaf Jansen's earth. The distance from the inside surface to 
the outside surface, according to him, is about three hundred miles. The center 
of gravity is not in the center of the earth, but in the center of the shell or 
crust; therefore, if the thickness of the earth's crust or shell is three 
hundred miles, the center of gravity is one hundred and fifty miles below the 
surface. 
In their log-books Arctic explorers tell us of the dipping of the needle as the 
vessel sails in regions of the farthest north known. In reality, they are at the 
curve; on the edge of the shell, where gravity is geometrically increased, and 
while the electric current seemingly dashes off into space toward the phantom 
idea of the North Pole, yet this same electric current drops again and continues 
its course southward along the inside surface of the earth's crust. 
In the appendix to his work, Captain Sabine gives an account of experiments to 
determine the acceleration of the pendulum in different latitudes. This appears 
to have resulted from the joint labor of Peary and Sabine. He says: "The 
accidental discovery that a pendulum on being removed from Paris to the 
neighborhood of the equator increased its time of vibration, gave the first step 
to our present knowledge that the polar axis of the globe is less than the 
equatorial; that the force of gravity at the surface of the earth increases 
progressively from the equator toward the poles." 
According to Olaf Jansen, in the beginning this old world of ours was created 
solely for the "within" world, where are located the four great rivers -- the 
Euphrates, the Pison, the Gihon and the Hiddekel. These same names of rivers, 
when applied to streams on the "outside" surface of the earth, are purely 
traditional from an antiquity beyond the memory of man. 
On the top of a high mountain, near the fountain-head of these four rivers, Olaf 
Jansen, the Norseman, claims to have discovered the long-lost "Garden of Eden," 
the veritable navel of the earth, and to have spent over two years studying and 
reconnoitering in this marvelous "within" land, exuberant with stupendous plant 
life and abounding in giant animals; a land where the people live to be 
centuries old, after the order of Methuselah and other Biblical characters; a 
region where one-quarter of the "inner" surface is water and three-quarters 
land; where there are large oceans and many rivers and lakes; where the cities 
are superlative in construction and magnificence; where modes of transportation 
are as far in advance of ours as we with our boasted achievements are in advance 
of the inhabitants of "darkest Africa." 
The distance directly across the space from inner surface to inner surface is 
about six hundred miles less than the recognized diameter of the earth. In the 
identical center of this vast vacuum is the seat of electricity -- a mammoth 
ball of dull red fire -- not startlingly brilliant, but surrounded by a white, 
mild, luminous cloud, giving out uniform warmth, and held in its place in the 
center of this internal space by the immutable law of gravitation. This 
electrical cloud is known to the people "within" as the abode of "The Smoky 
God." They believe it to be the throne of "The Most High." 
Olaf Jansen reminded me of how, in the old college days, we were all familiar 
with the laboratory demonstrations of centrifugal motion, which clearly proved 
that, if the earth were a solid, the rapidity of its revolution upon its axis 
would tear it into a thousand fragments. 
The old Norseman also maintained that from the farthest points of land on the 
islands of Spitzbergen and Franz Josef Land, flocks of geese may be seen 
annually flying still farther northward, just as the sailors and explorers 
record in their log-books. No scientist has yet been audacious enough to attempt 
to explain, even to his own satisfaction, toward what lands these winged fowls 
are guided by their subtle instinct. However, Olaf Jansen has given us a most 
reasonable explanation. 
The presence of the open sea in the Northland is also explained. Olaf Jansen 
claims that the northern aperture, intake or hole, so to speak, is about 
fourteen hundred miles across. In connection with this, let us read what 
Explorer Nansen writes, on page 288 of his book: "I have never had such a 
splendid sail. On to the north, steadily north, with a good wind, as fast as 
steam and sail can take us, an open sea mile after mile, watch after watch, 
through these unknown regions, always clearer and clearer of ice, one might 
almost say: 'How long will it last?' The eye always turns to the northward as 
one paces the bridge. It is gazing into the future. But there is always the same 
dark sky ahead which means open sea." Again, the Norwood Review of England, in 
its issue of May 10, 1884, says: "We do not admit that there is ice up to the 
Pole -- once inside the great ice barrier, a new world breaks upon the explorer, 
the climate is mild like that of England, and, afterward, balmy as the Greek 
Isles." 
Some of the rivers "within," Olaf Jansen claims, are larger than our Mississippi 
and Amazon rivers combined, in point of volume of water carried; indeed their 
greatness is occasioned by their width and depth rather than their length, and 
it is at the mouths of these mighty rivers, as they flow northward and southward 
along the inside surface of the earth, that mammoth icebergs are found, some of 
them fifteen and twenty miles wide and from forty to one hundred miles in 
length. 
Is it not strange that there has never been an iceberg encountered either in the 
Arctic or Antarctic Ocean that is not composed of fresh water? Modern scientists 
claim that freezing eliminates the salt, but Olaf Jansen claims differently. 
Ancient Hindoo, Japanese and Chinese writings, as well as the hieroglyphics of 
the extinct races of the North American continent, all speak of the custom of 
sun-worshiping, and it is possible, in the startling light of Olaf Jansen's 
revelations, that the people of the inner world, lured away by glimpses of the 
sun as it shone upon the inner surface of the earth, either from the northern or 
the southern opening, became dissatisfied with "The Smoky God," the great pillar 
or mother cloud of electricity, and, weary of their continuously mild and 
pleasant atmosphere, followed the brighter light, and were finally led beyond 
the ice belt and scattered over the "outer" surface of the earth, through Asia, 
Europe, North America and, later, Africa, Australia and South America. [1] 
[1 The following quotation is significant; "It follows that man issuing from a 
mother-region still undetermined but which a number of considerations indicate 
to have been in the North, has radiated in several directions; that his 
migrations have been constantly from North to South." -- M. le Marquis G. de 
Saporta, in Popular Science Monthly, October, 1883, page 753.] 
It is a notable fact that, as we approach the Equator, the stature of the human 
race grows less. But the Patagonians of South America are probably the only 
aborigines from the center of the earth who came out through the aperture 
usually designated as the South Pole, and they are called the giant race. 
Olaf Jansen avers that, in the beginning, the world was created by the Great 
Architect of the Universe, so that man might dwell upon its "inside" surface, 
which has ever since been the habitation of the "chosen." 
They who were driven out of the "Garden of Eden" brought their traditional 
history with them. 
The history of the people living "within" contains a narrative suggesting the 
story of Noah and the ark with which we are familiar. He sailed away, as did 
Columbus, from a certain port, to a strange land he had heard of far to the 
northward, carrying with him all manner of beasts of the fields and fowls of the 
air, but was never heard of afterward. 
On the northern boundaries of Alaska, and still more frequently on the Siberian 
coast, are found boneyards containing tusks of ivory in quantities so great as 
to suggest the burying-places of antiquity. From Olaf Jansen's account, they 
have come from the great prolific animal life that abounds in the fields and 
forests and on the banks of numerous rivers of the Inner World. The materials 
were caught in the ocean currents, or were carried on ice-floes, and have 
accumulated like driftwood on the Siberian coast. This has been going on for 
ages, and hence these mysterious bone-yards. 
On this subject William F. Warren, in his book already cited, pages 297 and 298, 
says: "The Arctic rocks tell of a lost Atlantis more wonderful than Plato's. The 
fossil ivory beds of Siberia excel everything of the kind in the world. From the 
days of Pliny, at least, they have constantly been undergoing exploitation, and 
still they are the chief headquarters of supply. The remains of mammoths are so 
abundant that, as Gratacap says, 'the northern islands of Siberia seem built up 
of crowded bones.' Another scientific writer, speaking of the islands of New 
Siberia, northward of the mouth of the River Lena, uses this language: 'Large 
quantities of ivory are dug out of the ground every year. Indeed, some of the 
islands are believed to be nothing but an accumulation of drift-timber and the 
bodies of mammoths and other antediluvian animals frozen together.' From this we 
may infer that, during the years that have elapsed since the Russian conquest of 
Siberia, useful tusks from more than twenty thousand mammoths have been 
collected." 
But now for the story of Olaf Jansen. I give it in detail, as set down by 
himself in manuscript, and woven into the tale, just as he placed them, are 
certain quotations from recent works on Arctic exploration, showing how 
carefully the old Norseman compared with his own experiences those of other 
voyagers to the frozen North. Thus wrote the disciple of Odin and Thor: 
PART TWO. OLAF JANSEN'S STORY
MY name is Olaf Jansen. I am a Norwegian, although I was born in the little 
seafaring Russian town of Uleaborg, on the eastern coast of the Gulf of Bothnia, 
the northern arm of the Baltic Sea. 
My parents were on a fishing cruise in the Gulf of Bothnia, and put into this 
Russian town of Uleaborg at the time of my birth, being the twenty-seventh day 
of October, 1811. 
My father, Jens Jansen, was born at Rodwig on the Scandinavian coast, near the 
Lofoden Islands, but after marrying made his home at Stockholm, because my 
mother's people resided in that city. When seven years old, I began going with 
my father on his fishing trips along the Scandinavian coast. 
Early in life I displayed an aptitude for books, and at the age of nine years 
was placed in a private school in Stockholm, remaining there until I was 
fourteen. After this I made regular trips with my father on all his fishing 
voyages. 
My father was a man fully six feet three in height, and weighed over fifteen 
stone, a typical Norseman of the most rugged sort, and capable of more endurance 
than any other man I have ever known. He possessed the gentleness of a woman in 
tender little ways, yet his determination and will-power were beyond 
description. His will admitted of no defeat. 
I was in my nineteenth year when we started on what proved to be our last trip 
as fishermen, and which resulted in the strange story that shall be given to the 
world,-- but not until I have finished my earthly pilgrimage. 
I dare not allow the facts as I know them to be published while I am living, for 
fear of further humiliation, confinement and suffering. First of all, I was put 
in irons by the captain of the whaling vessel that rescued me, for no other 
reason than that I told the truth about the marvelous discoveries made by my 
father and myself. But this was far from being the end of my tortures. 
After four years and eight months' absence I reached Stockholm, only to find my 
mother had died the previous year, and the property left by my parents in the 
possession of my mother's people, but it was at once made over to me. 
All might have been well, had I erased from my memory the story of our adventure 
and of my father's terrible death. 
Finally, one day I told the story in detail to my uncle, Gustaf Osterlind, a man 
of considerable property, and urged him to fit out an expedition for me to make 
another voyage to the strange land. 
At first I thought he favored my project. He seemed interested, and invited me 
to go before certain officials and explain to them, as I had to him, the story 
of our travels and discoveries. Imagine my disappointment and horror when, upon 
the conclusion of my narrative, certain papers were signed by my uncle, and, 
without warning, I found myself arrested and hurried away to dismal and fearful 
confinement in a madhouse, where I remained for twenty-eight years -- long, 
tedious, frightful years of suffering! 
I never ceased to assert my sanity, and to protest against the injustice of my 
confinement. Finally, on the seventeenth of October, 1862, I was released. My 
uncle was dead, and the friends of my youth were now strangers. Indeed, a man 
over fifty years old, whose only known record is that of a madman, has no 
friends. 
I was at a loss to know what to do for a living, but instinctively turned toward 
the harbor where fishing boats in great numbers were anchored, and within a week 
I had shipped with a fisherman by the name of Yan Hansen, who was starting on a 
long fishing cruise to the Lofoden Islands. 
Here my earlier years of training proved of the very greatest advantage, 
especially in enabling me to make myself useful. This was but the beginning of 
other trips, and by frugal economy I was, in a few years, able to own a 
fishing-brig of my own. For twenty-seven years thereafter I followed the sea as 
a fisherman, five years working for others, and the last twenty-two for myself. 
During all these years I was a most diligent student of books, as well as a hard 
worker at my business, but I took great care not to mention to anyone the story 
concerning the discoveries made by my father and myself. Even at this late day I 
would be fearful of having any one see or know the things I am writing, and the 
records and maps I have in my keeping. When my days on earth are finished, I 
shall leave maps and records that will enlighten and, I hope, benefit mankind. 
The memory of my long confinement with maniacs, and all the horrible anguish and 
sufferings are too vivid to warrant my taking further chances. 
In 1889 I sold out my fishing boats, and found I had accumulated a fortune quite 
sufficient to keep me the remainder of my life. I then came to America. 
For a dozen years my home was in Illinois, near Batavia, where I gathered most 
of the books in my present library, though I brought many choice volumes from 
Stockholm. Later, I came to Los Angeles, arriving here March 4, 1901. The date I 
well remember, as it was President McKinley's second inauguration day. I bought 
this humble home and determined, here in the privacy of my own abode, sheltered 
by my own vine and fig-tree, and with my books about me, to make maps and 
drawings of the new lands we had discovered, and also to write the story in 
detail from the time my father and I left Stockholm until the tragic event that 
parted us in the Antarctic Ocean. 
I well remember that we left Stockholm in our fishing-sloop on the third day of 
April, 1829, and sailed to the southward, leaving Gothland Island to the left 
and Oeland Island to the right. A few days later we succeeded in doubling 
Sandhommar Point, and made our way through the sound which separates Denmark 
from the Scandinavian coast. In due time we put in at the town of Christiansand, 
where we rested two days, and then started around the Scandinavian coast to the 
westward, bound for the Lofoden Islands. 
My father was in high spirit, because of the excellent and gratifying returns he 
had received from our last catch by marketing at Stockholm, instead of selling 
at one of the seafaring towns along the Scandinavian coast. He was especially 
pleased with the sale of some ivory tusks that he had found on the west coast of 
Franz Joseph Land during one of his northern cruises the previous year, and he 
expressed the hope that this time we might again be fortunate enough to load our 
little fishing-sloop with ivory, instead of cod, herring, mackerel and salmon. 
We put in at Hammerfest, latitude seventy-one degrees and forty minutes, for a 
few days' rest. Here we remained one week, laying in an extra supply of 
provisions and several casks of drinking-water, and then sailed toward 
Spitzbergen. 
For the first few days we had an open sea and a favoring wind, and then we 
encountered much ice and many icebergs. A vessel larger than our little 
fishing-sloop could not possibly have threaded its way among the labyrinth of 
icebergs or squeezed through the barely open channels. These monster bergs 
presented an endless succession of crystal palaces, of massive cathedrals and 
fantastic mountain ranges, grim and sentinel-like, immovable as some towering 
cliff of solid rock, standing; silent as a sphinx, resisting the restless waves 
of a fretful sea. 
After many narrow escapes, we arrived at Spitzbergen on the 23d of June, and 
anchored at Wijade Bay for a short time, where we were quite successful in our 
catches. We then lifted anchor and sailed through the Hinlopen Strait, and 
coasted along the North-East-Land.[2] 
[2 It will be remembered that Andree started on his fatal balloon voyage from 
the northwest coast of Spitzbergen.] 
A strong wind came up from the southwest, and my father said that we had better 
take advantage of it and try to reach Franz Josef Land, where, the year before 
he had, by accident, found the ivory tusks that had brought him such a good 
price at Stockholm. 
Never, before or since, have I seen so many sea-fowl; they were so numerous that 
they hid the rocks on the coast line and darkened the sky. 
For several days we sailed along the rocky coast of Franz Josef Land. Finally, a 
favoring wind came up that enabled us to make the West Coast, and, after sailing 
twenty-four hours, we came to a beautiful inlet. 
One could hardly believe it was the far Northland. The place was green with 
growing vegetation, and while the area did not comprise more than one or two 
acres, yet the air was warm and tranquil. It seemed to be at that point where 
the Gulf Stream's influence is most keenly felt.[3] 
[3 Sir John Barrow, Bart., F.R.S., in his work entitled "Voyages of Discovery 
and Research Within the Arctic Regions," says on page 57: "Mr. Beechey refers to 
what has frequently been found and noticed -- the mildness of the temperature on 
the western coast of Spitzbergen, there being little or no sensation of cold, 
though the thermometer might be only a few degrees above the freezing-point. The 
brilliant and lively effect of a clear day, when the sun shines forth with a 
pure sky, whose azure hue is so intense as to find no parallel even in the 
boasted Italian sky."] 
On the east coast there were numerous icebergs, yet here we were in open water. 
Far to the west of us, however, were icepacks, and still farther to the westward 
the ice appeared like ranges of low hills. In front of us, and directly to the 
north, lay an open sea.[4] 
[4 Captain Kane, on page 299, quoting from Morton's Journal on Monday, the 26th 
of December, says: "As far as I could see, the open passages were fifteen miles 
or more wide, with sometimes mashed ice separating them. But it is all small 
ice, and I think it either drives out to the open space to the north or rots and 
sinks, as I could see none ahead to the north."] 
My father was an ardent believer in Odin and Thor, and had frequently told me 
they were gods who came from far beyond the "North Wind." 
There was a tradition, my father explained, that still farther northward was a 
land more beautiful than any that mortal man had ever known, and that it was 
inhabited by the "Chosen."[5] 
[5 We find the following in "Deutsche Mythologie," page 778, from the pen of 
Jakob Grimm; "Then,the sons of Bor built in the middle of the universe the city 
called Asgard, where dwell the gods and their kindred, and from that abode work 
out so many wondrous things both on the earth and in the heavens above it. There 
is in that city a place called Illidskjalf, and when Odin is seated there upon 
his lofty throne he sees over the whole world and discerns all the actions of 
men."] 
My youthful imagination was fired by the ardor, zeal and religious fervor of my 
good father, and I exclaimed: "Why not sail to this goodly land? The sky is 
fair, the wind favorable and the sea open." 
Even now I can see the expression of pleasurable surprise on his countenance as 
he turned toward me and asked: "My son, are you willing to go with me and 
explore -- to go far beyond where man has ever ventured?" I answered 
affirmatively. "Very well," he replied. "May the god Odin protect us!" and, 
quickly adjusting the sails, he glanced at our compass, turned the prow in due 
northerly direction through an open channel, and our voyage had begun.[6] 
[6 Hall writes, on page 288: "On the 23rd of January the two Esquimaux, 
accompanied by two of the seamen, went to Cape Lupton. They reported a sea of 
open water extending as far as the eye could reach."] 
The sun was low in the horizon, as it was still the early summer. Indeed, we had 
almost four months of day ahead of us before the frozen night could come on 
again. 
Our little fishing-sloop sprang forward as if eager as ourselves for adventure. 
Within thirty-six hours we were out of sight of the highest point on the coast 
line of Franz Josef Land. "We seemed to be in a strong current running north by 
northeast. Far to the right and to the left of us were icebergs, but our little 
sloop bore down on the narrows and passed through channels and out into open 
seas -- channels so narrow in places that, had our craft been other than small, 
we never could have gotten through. 
On the third day we came to an island. Its shores were washed by an open sea. My 
father determined to land and explore for a day. This new land was destitute of 
timber, but we found a large accumulation of drift-wood on the northern shore. 
Some of the trunks of the trees were forty feet long and two feet in 
diameter.[7] 
[7 Greely tells us in vol. 1, page 100, that: "Privates Connell and Frederick 
found a large coniferous tree on the beach, just above the extreme high-water 
mark. It was nearly thirty inches in circumference, some thirty feet long, and 
had apparently been carried to that point by a current within a couple of years. 
A portion of it was cut up for fire-wood, and for the first time in that valley, 
a bright, cheery camp-fire gave comfort to man."] 
After one day's exploration of the coast line of this island, we lifted anchor 
and turned our prow to the north in an open sea.[8] 
[8 Dr. Kane says, on page 379 of his works: "I cannot imagine what becomes of 
the ice. A strong current sets in constantly to the north; but, from altitudes 
of more than five hundred feet, I saw only narrow strips of ice, with great 
spaces of open water, from ten to fifteen miles in breadth, between them. It 
must, therefore, either go to an open space in the north, or dissolve."] 
I remember that neither my father nor myself had tasted food for almost thirty 
hours. Perhaps this was because of the tension of excitement about our strange 
voyage in waters farther north, my father said, than anyone had ever before 
been. Active mentality had dulled the demands of the physical needs. 
Instead of the cold being intense as we had anticipated, it was really warmer 
and more pleasant than it had been while in Hammerfest on the north coast of 
Norway, some six weeks before.[9] 
[9 Captain Peary's second voyage relates another circumstance which may serve to 
confirm a conjecture which has long been maintained by some, that an open sea, 
free of ice, exists at or near the Pole. "On the second of November," says 
Peary, "the wind freshened up to a gale from north by west, lowered the 
thermometer before midnight to 5 degrees, whereas, a rise of wind at Melville 
Island was generally accompanied by a simultaneous rise in the thermometer at 
low temperatures. May not this," he asks, "be occasioned by the wind blowing 
over an open sea in the quarter from which the wind blows? And tend to confirm 
the opinion that at or near the Pole an open sea exists?"] 
We both frankly admitted that we were very hungry, and forthwith I prepared a 
substantial meal from our well-stored larder. When we had partaken heartily of 
the repast, I told my father I believed I would sleep, as I was beginning to 
feel quite drowsy. "Very well," he replied, "I will keep the watch." 
I have no way to determine how long I slept; I only know that I was rudely 
awakened by a terrible commotion of the sloop. To my surprise, I found my father 
sleeping soundly. I cried out lustily to him, and starting up, he sprang quickly 
to his feet. Indeed, had he not instantly clutched the rail, he would certainly 
have been thrown into the seething waves. 
A fierce snow-storm was raging. The wind was directly astern, driving our sloop 
at a terrific speed, and was threatening every moment to capsize us. There was 
no time to lose, the sails had to be lowered immediately. Our boat was writhing 
in convulsions. A few icebergs we knew were on either side of us, but 
fortunately the channel was open directly to the north. But would it remain so? 
In front of us, girding the horizon from left to right, was a vaporish fog or 
mist, black as Egyptian night at the water's edge, and white like a steam-cloud 
toward the top, which was finally lost to view as it blended with the great 
white flakes of falling snow. Whether it covered a treacherous iceberg, or some 
other hidden obstacle against which our little sloop would dash and send us to a 
watery grave, or was merely the phenomenon of an Arctic fog, there was no way to 
determine.[10] 
[10 On page 284 of his works, Hall writes: "From the top of Providence Berg, a 
dark fog was seen to the north, indicating water. At 10 a. m. three of the men 
(Kruger, Nindemann and Hobby) went to Cape Lupton to ascertain if possible the 
extent of the open water. On their return they reported several open spaces and 
much young ice -- not more than a day old, so thin that it was easily broken by 
throwing pieces of ice upon it."] 
By what miracle we escaped being dashed to utter destruction, I do not know. I 
remember our little craft creaked and groaned, as if its joints were breaking. 
It rocked and staggered to and fro as if clutched by some fierce undertow of 
whirlpool or maelstrom. 
Fortunately our compass had been fastened with long screws to a crossbeam. Most 
of our provisions, however, were tumbled out and swept away from the deck of the 
cuddy, and had we not taken the precaution at the very beginning to tie 
ourselves firmly to the masts of the sloop, we should have been swept into the 
lashing sea. 
Above the deafening tumult of the raging waves, I heard my father's voice. "Be 
courageous, my son," he shouted, "Odin is the god of the waters, the companion 
of the brave, and he is with us. Fear not." 
To me it seemed there was no possibility of our escaping a horrible death. The 
little sloop was shipping water, the snow was falling so fast as to be blinding, 
and the waves were tumbling over our counters in reckless white-sprayed fury. 
There was no telling what instant we should be dashed against some drifting 
ice-pack. The tremendous swells would heave us up to the very peaks of 
mountainous waves, then plunge us down into the depths of the sea's trough as if 
our fishing-sloop were a fragile shell. Gigantic white-capped waves, like 
veritable walls, fenced us in, fore and aft. 
This terrible nerve-racking ordeal, with its nameless horrors of suspense and 
agony of fear indescribable, continued for more than three hours, and all the 
time we were being driven forward at fierce speed. Then suddenly, as if growing 
weary of its frantic exertions, the wind began to lessen its fury and by degrees 
to die down. 
At last we were in a perfect calm. The fog mist had also disappeared, and before 
us lay an iceless channel perhaps ten or fifteen miles wide, with a few icebergs 
far away to our right, and an intermittent archipelago of smaller ones to the 
left. 
I watched my father closely, determined to remain silent until he spoke. 
Presently he untied the rope from his waist and, without saying a word, began 
working the pumps, which fortunately were not damaged, relieving the sloop of 
the water it had shipped in the madness of the storm. 
He put up the sloop's sails as calmly as if casting a fishing-net, and then 
remarked that we were ready for a favoring wind when it came. His courage and 
persistence were truly remarkable. 
On investigation we found less than one-third of our provisions remaining, while 
to our utter dismay, we discovered that our water-casks had been swept overboard 
during the violent plungings of our boat. 
Two of our water-casks were in the main hold, but both were empty. We had a fair 
supply of food, but no fresh water. I realized at once the awfulness of our 
position. Presently I was seized with a consuming thirst. "It is indeed bad," 
remarked my father. "However, let us dry our bedraggled clothing, for we are 
soaked to the skin. Trust to the god Odin, my son. Do not give up hope." 
The sun was beating down slantingly, as if we were in a southern latitude, 
instead of in the far Northland. It was swinging around, its orbit ever visible 
and rising higher and higher each day, frequently mist-covered, yet always 
peering through the lacework of clouds like some fretful eye of fate, guarding 
the mysterious Northland and jealously watching the pranks of man. Far to our 
right the rays decking the prisms of icebergs were gorgeous. Their reflections 
emitted flashes of garnet, of diamond, of sapphire. A pyrotechnic panorama of 
countless colors and shapes, while below could be seen the green-tinted sea, and 
above, the purple sky. 
PART THREE. BEYOND THE NORTH WIND
I TRIED to forget my thirst by busying myself with bringing up some food and an 
empty vessel from the hold. Reaching over the side-rail, I filled the vessel 
with water for the purpose of laving my hands and face. To my astonishment, when 
the water came in contact with my lips, I could taste no salt. I was startled by 
the discovery. "Father!" I fairly gasped, "the water, the water; it is fresh!" 
"What, Olaf?" exclaimed my father, glancing hastily around. "Surely you are 
mistaken. There is no land. You are going mad." "But taste it!" I cried. 
And thus we made the discovery that the water was indeed fresh, absolutely so, 
without the least briny taste or even the suspicion of a salty flavor. 
We forthwith filled our two remaining water-casks, and my father declared it was 
a heavenly dispensation of mercy from the gods Odin and Thor. 
We were almost beside ourselves with joy, but hunger bade us end our enforced 
fast. Now that we had found fresh water in the open sea, what might we not 
expect in this strange latitude where ship had never before sailed and the 
splash of an oar had never been heard? [11] 
[11 In vol. I, page 196, Nansen writes: "It is a peculiar phenomenon,-- this 
dead water. We had at present a better opportunity of studying it than we 
desired. It occurs where a surface layer of fresh water rests upon the salt 
water of the sea, and this fresh water is carried along with the ship gliding on 
the heavier sea beneath it as if on a fixed foundation. The difference between 
the two strata was in this case so great that while we had drinking water on the 
surface, the water we got from the bottom cock of the engine-room was far too 
salt to be used for the boiler."] 
We had scarcely appeased our hunger when a breeze began filling the idle sails, 
and, glancing at the compass, we found the northern point pressing hard against 
the glass. 
In response to my surprise, my father said, "I have heard of this before; it is 
what they call the dipping of the needle." 
We loosened the compass and turned it at right angles with the surface of the 
sea before its point would free itself from the glass and point according to 
unmolested attraction. It shifted uneasily, and seemed as unsteady as a drunken 
man, but finally pointed a course. 
Before this we thought the wind was carrying us north by northwest, but, with 
the needle free, we discovered, if it could be relied upon, that we were sailing 
slightly north by northeast. Our course, however, was ever tending 
northward.[12] 
[12 In volume II, pages 18 and 19, Nansen writes about the inclination of the 
needle. Speaking of Johnson, his aide: "One day -- it was November 24 -- he came 
in to supper a little after six o'clock, quite alarmed, and said: 'There has 
just been a singular inclination of the needle in twenty-four degrees. And 
remarkably enough, its northern extremity pointed to the east.'" 
We again find in Peary's first voyage -- page 67,-- the following: "It had been 
observed that from the moment they had entered Lancaster Sound, the motion of 
the compass needle was very sluggish, and both this and its deviation increased 
as they progressed to the westward, and continued to do so in descending this 
inlet. Having reached latitude 73 degrees, they witnessed for the first time the 
curious phenomenon of the directive power of the needle becoming so weak as to 
be completely overcome by the attraction of the ship, so that the needle might 
now be said to point to the north pole of the ship."] 
The sea was serenely smooth, with hardly a choppy wave, and the wind brisk and 
exhilarating. The sun's rays, while striking us aslant, furnished tranquil 
warmth. And thus time wore on day after day, and we found from the record in our 
logbook, we had been sailing eleven days since the storm in the open sea. 
By strictest economy, our food was holding out fairly well, but beginning to run 
low. In the meantime, one of our casks of water had been exhausted, and my 
father said: "We will fill it again." But, to our dismay, we found the water was 
now as salt as in the region of the Lofoden Islands off the coast of Norway. 
This necessitated our being extremely careful of the remaining cask. 
I found myself wanting to sleep much of the time; whether it was the effect of 
the exciting experience of sailing in unknown waters, or the relaxation from the 
awful excitement incident to our adventure in a storm at sea, or due to want of 
food, I could not say. 
I frequently lay down on the bunker of our little sloop, and looked far up into 
the blue dome of the sky; and, notwithstanding the sun was shining far away in 
the east, I always saw a single star overhead. For several days, when I looked 
for this star, it was always there directly above us. 
It was now, according to our reckoning, about the first of August. The sun was 
high in the heavens, and was so bright that I could no longer see the one lone 
star that attracted my attention a few days earlier. 
One day about this time, my father startled me by calling my attention to a 
novel sight far in front of us, almost at the horizon. "It is a mock sun," 
exclaimed my father. "I have read of them; it is called a reflection or mirage. 
It will soon pass away." 
But this dull-red, false sun, as we supposed it to be, did not pass away for 
several hours; and while we were unconscious of its emitting any rays of light, 
still there was no time thereafter when we could not sweep the horizon in front 
and locate the illumination of the so-called false sun, during a period of at 
least twelve hours out of every twenty-four. 
Clouds and mists would at times almost, but never entirely, hide its location. 
Gradually it seemed to climb higher in the horizon of the uncertain purply sky 
as we advanced. 
It could hardly be said to resemble the sun, except in its circular shape, and 
when not obscured by clouds or the ocean mists, it had a hazy-red, bronzed 
appearance, which would change to a white light like a luminous cloud, as if 
reflecting some greater light beyond. 
"We finally agreed in our discussion of this smoky furnace-colored sun, that, 
whatever the cause of the phenomenon, it was not a reflection of our sun, but a 
planet of some sort -- a reality.[13] 
[13 Nansen, on page 394, says: "To-day another noteworthy thing happened, which 
was that about mid-day we saw the sun, or to be more correct, an image of the 
sun, for it was only a mirage. A peculiar impression was produced by the sight 
of that glowing fire lit just above the outermost edge of the ice. According to 
the enthusiastic descriptions given by many Arctic travelers of the first 
appearance of this god of life after the long winter night, the impression ought 
to be one of jubilant excitement; but it was not so in my case. We had not 
expected to see it for some days yet, so that my feeling was rather one of pain, 
of disappointment that we must have drifted farther south than we thought. So it 
was with pleasure I soon discovered that it could not be the sun itself. The 
mirage was at first a flattened-out, glowing red, streak of fire on the horizon; 
later there were two streaks, the one above the other, with a dark space 
between; and from the maintop I could see four, or even five, such horizontal 
lines directly over one another, all of equal length, as if one could only 
imagine a square, dull-red sun, with horizontal dark streaks across it."] 
One day soon after this, I felt exceedingly drowsy, and fell into a sound sleep. 
But it seemed that I was almost immediately aroused by my father's vigorous 
shaking of me by the shoulder and saying: "Olaf, awaken; there is land in 
sight!" 
I sprang to my feet, and oh! joy unspeakable! There, far in the distance, yet 
directly in our path, were lands jutting boldly into the sea. The shore-line 
stretched far away to the right of us, as far as the eye could see, and all 
along the sandy beach were waves breaking into choppy foam, receding, then going 
forward again, ever chanting in monotonous thunder tones the song of the deep. 
The banks were covered with trees and vegetation. 
I cannot express my feeling of exultation at this discovery. My father stood 
motionless, with his hand on the tiller, looking straight ahead, pouring out his 
heart in thankful prayer and thanksgiving to the gods Odin and Thor. 
In the meantime, a net which we found in the stowage had been cast, and we 
caught a few fish that materially added to our dwindling stock of provisions. 
The compass, which we had fastened back in its place, in fear of another storm, 
was still pointing due north, and moving on its pivot, just as it had at 
Stockholm. The dipping of the needle had ceased. What could this mean? Then, 
too, our many days of sailing had certainly carried us far past the North Pole. 
And yet the needle continued to point north. We were sorely perplexed, for 
surely our direction was now south.[14] 
[14 Peary's first voyage, pages 69 and 70, says: "On reaching Sir Byam Martin's 
Island, the nearest to Melville Island, the latitude of the place of observation 
was 75 degrees - 09' - 23", and the longitude 103 degrees - 44' - 37"; the dip 
of the magnetic needle 88 degrees - 25' - 56" west in the longitude of 91 
degrees - 48', where the last observations on the shore had been made, to 165 
degrees - 50' - 09", east, at their present station, so thatwe had," says Peary, 
"in sailing over the space included between these two meridians, crossed 
immediately northward of the magnetic pole, and had undoubtedly passed over one 
of those spots upon the globe where the needle would have been found to vary 180 
degrees, or in other words, where the North Pole would have pointed to the 
south."] 
We sailed for three days along the shoreline, then came to the mouth of a fjord 
or river of immense size. It seemed more like a great bay, and into this we 
turned our fishing-craft, the direction being slightly northeast of south. By 
the assistance of a fretful wind that came to our aid about twelve hours out of 
every twenty-four, we continued to make our way inland, into what afterward 
proved to be a mighty river, and which we learned was called by the inhabitants 
Hiddekel. 
We continued our journey for ten days thereafter, and found we had fortunately 
attained a distance inland where ocean tides no longer affected the water, which 
had become fresh. 
The discovery came none too soon, for our remaining cask of water was well-nigh 
exhausted. We lost no time in replenishing our casks, and continued to sail 
farther up the river when the wind was favorable. 
Along the banks great forests miles in extent could be seen stretching away on 
the shore-line. The trees were of enormous size. We landed after anchoring near 
a sandy beach, and waded ashore, and were rewarded by finding a quantity of nuts 
that were very palatable and satisfying to hunger, and a welcome change from the 
monotony of our stock of provisions. 
It was about the first of September, over five months, we calculated, since our 
leave-taking from Stockholm. Suddenly we were frightened almost out of our wits 
by hearing in the far distance the singing of people. Very soon thereafter we 
discovered a huge ship gliding down the river directly toward us. Those aboard 
were singing in one mighty chorus that, echoing from bank to bank, sounded like 
a thousand voices, filling the whole universe with quivering melody. The 
accompaniment was played on stringed instruments not unlike our harps. 
It was a larger ship than any we had ever seen, and was differently 
constructed.[15] 
[15 Asiatic Mythology,-- page 240, "Paradise found" -- from translation by 
Sayce, in a book called "Records of the Past," we were told of a "dwelling" 
which "the gods created for" the first human beings,-- a dwelling in which they 
"became great" and "increased in numbers," and the location of which is 
described in words exactly corresponding to those of Iranian, Indian, Chinese, 
Eddaic and Aztecan literature; namely, "in the center of the earth." -- Warren.] 

At this particular time our sloop was becalmed, and not far from the shore. The 
bank of the river, covered with mammoth trees, rose up several hundred feet in 
beautiful fashion. We seemed to be on the edge of some primeval forest that 
doubtless stretched far inland. 
The immense craft paused, and almost immediately a boat was lowered and six men 
of gigantic stature rowed to our little fishing-sloop. They spoke to us in a 
strange language. We knew from their manner, however, that they were not 
unfriendly. They talked a great deal among themselves, and one of them laughed 
immoderately, as though in finding us a queer discovery had been made. One of 
them spied our compass, and it seemed to interest them more than any other part 
of our sloop. 
Finally, the leader motioned as if to ask whether we were willing to leave our 
craft to go on board their ship. "What say you, my son?" asked my father. "They 
cannot do any more than kill us." 
"They seem to be kindly disposed," I replied, "although what terrible giants! 
They must be the select six of the kingdom's crack regiment. Just look at their 
great size." 
"We may as well go willingly as be taken by force," said my father, smiling, 
"for they are certainly able to capture us." Thereupon he made known, by signs, 
that we were ready to accompany them. 
Within a few minutes we were on board the ship, and half an hour later our 
little fishing-craft had been lifted bodily out of the water by a strange sort 
of hook and tackle, and set on board as a curiosity. 
There were several hundred people on board this, to us, mammoth ship, which we 
discovered was called "The Naz," meaning, as we afterward learned, "Pleasure," 
or to give a more proper interpretation, "Pleasure Excursion" ship. 
If my father and I were curiously observed by the ship's occupants, this strange 
race of giants offered us an equal amount of wonderment. 
There was not a single man aboard who would not have measured fully twelve feet 
in height. They all wore full beards, not particularly long, but seemingly 
short-cropped. They had mild and beautiful faces, exceedingly fair, with ruddy 
complexions. The hair and beard of some were black, others sandy, and still 
others yellow. The captain, as we designated the dignitary in command of the 
great vessel, was fully a head taller than any of his companions. The women 
averaged from ten to eleven feet in height. Their features were especially 
regular and refined, while their complexion was of a most delicate tint 
heightened by a healthful glow.[16] 
[16 "According to all procurable data, that spot at the era of man's appearance 
upon the stage was in the now lost 'Miocene continent,' which then surrounded 
the Arctic Pole. That in that true, original Eden some of the early generations 
of men attained to a stature and longevity unequaled in any countries known to 
postdiluvian history is by no means scientifically incredible." -- Wm. F. 
Warren, "Paradise Found," p. 284.] 
Both men and women seemed to possess that particular ease of manner which we 
deem a sign of good breeding, and, notwithstanding their huge statures, there 
was nothing about them suggesting awkwardness. As I was a lad in only my 
nineteenth year, I was doubtless looked upon as a true Tom Thumb. My father's 
six feet three did not lift the top of his head above the waist line of these 
people. 
Each one seemed to vie with the others in extending courtesies and showing 
kindness to us, but all laughed heartily, I remember, when they had to improvise 
chairs for my father and myself to sit at table. They were richly attired in a 
costume peculiar to themselves, and very attractive. The men were clothed in 
handsomely embroidered tunics of silk and satin and belted at the waist. They 
wore knee-breeches and stockings of a fine texture, while their feet were 
encased in sandals adorned with gold buckles. We early discovered that gold was 
one of the most common metals known, and that it was used extensively in 
decoration. 
Strange as it may seem, neither my father nor myself felt the least bit of 
solicitude for our safety. "We have come into our own," my father said to me. 
"This is the fulfillment of the tradition told me by my father and my father's 
father, and still back for many generations of our race. This is, assuredly, the 
land beyond the North Wind." 
We seemed to make such an impression on the party that we were given specially 
into the charge of one of the men, Jules Galdea, and his wife, for the purpose 
of being educated in their language; and we, on our part, were just as eager to 
learn as they were to instruct. 
At the captain's command, the vessel was swung cleverly about, and began 
retracing its course up the river. The machinery, while noiseless, was very 
powerful. 
The banks and trees on either side seemed to rush by. The ship's speed, at 
times, surpassed that of any railroad train on which I have ever ridden, even 
here in America. It was wonderful. 
In the meantime we had lost sight of the sun's rays, but we found a radiance 
"within" emanating from the dull-red sun which had already attracted our 
attention, now giving out a white light seemingly from a cloud-bank far away in 
front of us. It dispensed a greater light, I should say, than two full moons on 
the clearest night. 
In twelve hours this cloud of whiteness would pass out of sight as if eclipsed, 
and the twelve hours following corresponded with our night. We early learned 
that these strange people were worshipers of this great cloud of night. It was 
"The Smoky God" of the "Inner World." 
The ship was equipped with a mode of illumination which I now presume was 
electricity, but neither my father nor myself were sufficiently skilled in 
mechanics to understand whence came the power to operate the ship, or to 
maintain the soft beautiful lights that answered the same purpose of our present 
methods of lighting the streets of our cities, our houses and places of 
business. 
It must be remembered, the time of which I write was the autumn of 1829, and we 
of the "outside" surface of the earth knew nothing then, so to speak, of 
electricity. 
The electrically surcharged condition of the air was a constant vitalizer. I 
never felt better in my life than during the two years my father and I sojourned 
on the inside of the earth. 
To resume my narrative of events; The ship on which we were sailing came to a 
stop two days after we had been taken on board. My father said as nearly as he 
could judge, we were directly under Stockholm or London. The city we had reached 
was called "Jehu," signifying a seaport town. The houses were large and 
beautifully constructed, and quite uniform in appearance, yet without sameness. 
The principal occupation of the people appeared to be agriculture; the hillsides 
were covered with vineyards, while the valleys were devoted to the growing of 
grain. 
I never saw such a display of gold. It was everywhere. The door-casings were 
inlaid and the tables were veneered with sheetings of gold. Domes of the public 
buildings were of gold. It was used most generously in the finishings of the 
great temples of music. 
Vegetation grew in lavish exuberance, and fruit of all kinds possessed the most 
delicate flavor. Clusters of grapes four and five feet in length, each grape as 
large as an orange, and apples larger than a man's head typified the wonderful 
growth of all things on the "inside" of the earth. 
The great redwood trees of California would be considered mere underbrush 
compared with the giant forest trees extending for miles and miles in all 
directions. In many directions along the foothills of the mountains vast herds 
of cattle were seen during the last day of our travel on the river. 
"We heard much of a city called "Eden," but were kept at "Jehu" for an entire 
year. By the end of that time we had learned to speak fairly well the language 
of this strange race of people. Our instructors, Jules Galdea and his wife, 
exhibited a patience that was truly commendable. 
One day an envoy from the Ruler at "Eden" came to see us, and for two whole days 
my father and myself were put through a series of surprising questions. They 
wished to know from whence we came, what sort of people dwelt "without," what 
God we worshiped, our religious beliefs, the mode of living in our strange land, 
and a thousand other things. 
The compass which we had brought with us attracted especial attention. My father 
and I commented between ourselves on the fact that the compass still pointed 
north, although we now knew that we had sailed over the curve or edge of the 
earth's aperture, and were far along southward on the "inside" surface of the 
earth's crust, which, according to my father's estimate and my own, is about 
three hundred miles in thickness from the "inside" to the "outside" surface. 
Relatively speaking, it is no thicker than an egg-shell, so that there is almost 
as much surface on the "inside" as on the "outside" of the earth. 
The great luminous cloud or ball of dull-red fire -- fiery-red in the mornings 
and evenings, and during the day giving off a beautiful white light, "The Smoky 
God," -- is seemingly suspended in the center of the great vacuum "within" the 
earth, and held to its place by the immutable law of gravitation, or a repellant 
atmospheric force, as the case may be. I refer to the known power that draws or 
repels with equal force in all directions. 
The base of this electrical cloud or central luminary, the seat of the gods, is 
dark and non-transparent, save for innumerable small openings, seemingly in the 
bottom of the great support or altar of the Deity, upon which "The Smoky God" 
rests; and, the lights shining through these many openings twinkle at night in 
all their splendor, and seem to be stars, as natural as the stars we saw shining 
when in our home at Stockholm, excepting that they appear larger. "The Smoky 
God," therefore, with each daily revolution of the earth, appears to come up in 
the east and go down in the west, the same as does our sun on the external 
surface. In reality, the people "within" believe that "The Smoky God" is the 
throne of their Jehovah, and is stationary. The effect of night and day is, 
therefore, produced by the earth's daily rotation. 
I have since discovered that the language of the people of the Inner World is 
much like the Sanskrit. 
After we had given an account of ourselves to the emissaries from the central 
seat of government of the inner continent, and my father had, in his crude way, 
drawn maps, at their request, of the "outside" surface of the earth, showing the 
divisions of land and water, and giving the name of each of the continents, 
large islands and the oceans, we were taken overland to the city of "Eden," in a 
conveyance different from anything we have in Europe or America. This vehicle 
was doubtless some electrical contrivance. It was noiseless, and ran on a single 
iron rail in perfect balance. The trip was made at a very high rate of speed. We 
were carried up hills and down dales, across valleys and again along the sides 
of steep mountains, without any apparent attempt having been made to level the 
earth as we do for railroad tracks. The car seats were huge yet comfortable 
affairs, and very high above the floor of the car. On the top of each car were 
high geared fly wheels lying on their sides, which were so automatically 
adjusted that, as the speed of the car increased, the high speed of these fly 
wheels geometrically increased. Jules Galdea explained to us that these 
revolving fan-like wheels on top of the cars destroyed atmospheric pressure, or 
what is generally understood by the term gravitation, and with this force thus 
destroyed or rendered nugatory the car is as safe from falling to one side or 
the other from the single rail track as if it were in a vacuum; the fly wheels 
in their rapid revolutions destroying effectually the so-called power of 
gravitation, or the force of atmospheric pressure or whatever potent influence 
it may be that causes all unsupported things to fall downward to the earth's 
surface or to the nearest point of resistance. 
The surprise of my father and myself was indescribable when, amid the regal 
magnificence of a spacious hall, we were finally brought before the Great High 
Priest, ruler over all the land. He was richly robed, and much taller than those 
about him, and could not have been less than fourteen or fifteen feet in height. 
The immense room in which we were received seemed finished in solid slabs of 
gold thickly studded with jewels, of amazing brilliancy. 
The city of "Eden" is located in what seems to be a beautiful valley, yet, in 
fact, it is on the loftiest mountain plateau of the Inner Continent, several 
thousand feet higher than any portion of the surrounding country. It is the most 
beautiful place I have ever beheld in all my travels. In this elevated garden 
all manner of fruits, vines, shrubs, trees, and flowers grow in riotous 
profusion. 
In this garden four rivers have their source in a mighty artesian fountain. They 
divide and flow in four directions. This place is called by the inhabitants the 
"navel of the earth," or the beginning, "the cradle of the human race." The 
names of the rivers are the Euphrates, the Pison, the Gihon, and the 
Hiddekel.[17] 
[17 "And the Lord God planted a garden, and out of the ground made the Lord God 
to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food." -- The Book 
of Genesis.] 
The unexpected awaited us in this palace of beauty, in the finding of our little 
fishing-craft. It had been brought before the High Priest in perfect shape, just 
as it had been taken from the waters that day when it was loaded on board the 
ship by the people who discovered us on the river more than a year before. 
"We were given an audience of over two hours with this great dignitary, who 
seemed kindly disposed and considerate. He showed himself eagerly interested, 
asking us numerous questions, and invariably regarding things about which his 
emissaries had failed to inquire. 
At the conclusion of the interview he inquired our pleasure, asking us whether 
we wished to remain in his country or if we preferred to return to the "outer" 
world, providing it were possible to make a successful return trip, across the 
frozen belt barriers that encircle both the northern and southern openings of 
the earth. 
My father replied: "It would please me and my son to visit your country and see 
your people, your colleges and palaces of music and art, your great fields, your 
wonderful forests of timber; and after we have had this pleasurable privilege, 
we should like to try to return to our home on the 'outside' surface of the 
earth. This son is my only child, and my good wife will be weary awaiting our 
return." 
"I fear you can never return," replied the Chief High Priest, "because the way 
is a most hazardous one. However, you shall visit the different countries with 
Jules Galdea as your escort, and be accorded every courtesy and kindness. 
Whenever you are ready to attempt a return voyage, I assure you that your boat 
which is here on exhibition shall be put in the waters of the river Hiddekel at 
its mouth, and we will bid you Jehovah-speed." 
Thus terminated our only interview with the High Priest or Ruler of the 
continent. 
PART FOUR. IN THE UNDER WORLD
WE learned that the males do not marry before they are from seventy-five to one 
hundred years old, and that the age at which women enter wedlock is only a 
little less, and that both men and women frequently live to be from six to eight 
hundred years old, and in some instances much older.[18] 
[18 Josephus says: "God prolonged the life of the patriarchs that preceded the 
deluge, both on account of their virtues and to give them the opportunity of 
perfecting the sciences of geometry and astronomy, which they had discovered; 
which they could not have done if they had not lived 600 years, because it is 
only after the lapse of 600 years that the great year is accomplished." -- 
Flammarion, Astronomical Myths, Paris p. 26.] 
During the following year we visited many villages and towns, prominent among 
them being the cities of Nigi, Delfi, Hectea, and my father was called upon no 
less than a half-dozen times to go over the maps which had been made from the 
rough sketches he had originally given of the divisions of land and water on the 
"outside" surface of the earth. 
I remember hearing my father remark that the giant race of people in the land of 
"The Smoky God" had almost as accurate an idea of the geography of the "outside" 
surface of the earth as had the average college professor in Stockholm. 
In our travels we came to a forest of gigantic trees, near the city of Delfi. 
Had the Bible said there were trees towering over three hundred feet in height, 
and more than thirty feet in diameter, growing in the Garden of Eden, the 
Ingersolls, the Tom Paines and Voltaires would doubtless have pronounced the 
statement a myth. Yet this is the description of the California sequoia 
gigantea; but these California giants pale into insignificance when compared 
with the forest Goliaths found in the "within" continent, where abound mighty 
trees from eight hundred to one thousand feet in height, and from one hundred to 
one hundred and twenty feet in diameter; countless in numbers and forming 
forests extending hundreds of miles back from the sea. 
The people are exceedingly musical, and learned to a remarkable degree in their 
arts and sciences, especially geometry and astronomy. Their cities are equipped 
with vast palaces of music, where not infrequently as many as twenty-five 
thousand lusty voices of this giant race swell forth in mighty choruses of the 
most sublime symphonies. 
The children are not supposed to attend institutions of learning before they are 
twenty years old. Then their school life begins and continues for thirty years, 
ten of which are uniformly devoted by both sexes to the study of music. 
Their principal vocations are architecture, agriculture, horticulture, the 
raising of vast herds of cattle, and the building of conveyances peculiar to 
that country, for travel on land and water. By some device which I cannot 
explain, they hold communion with one another between the most distant parts of 
their country, on air currents. 
All buildings are erected with special regard to strength, durability, beauty 
and symmetry, and with a style of architecture vastly more attractive to the eye 
than any I have ever observed elsewhere. 
About three-fourths of the "inner" surface of the earth is land and about 
one-fourth water. There are numerous rivers of tremendous size, some flowing in 
a northerly direction and others southerly. Some of these rivers are thirty 
miles in width, and it is out of these vast waterways, at the extreme northern 
and southern parts of the "inside" surface of the earth, in regions where low 
temperatures are experienced, that fresh-water icebergs are formed. They are 
then pushed out to sea like huge tongues of ice, by the abnormal freshets of 
turbulent waters that, twice every year, sweep everything before them. 
We saw innumerable specimens of bird-life no larger than those encountered in 
the forests of Europe or America. It is well known that during the last few 
years whole species of birds have quit the earth. A writer in a recent article 
on this subject says:[19] 
[19 "Almost every year sees the final extinction of one or more bird species. 
Out of fourteen varieties of birds found a century since on a single island -- 
the West Indian island of St. Thomas -- eight have now to be numbered among the 
missing."] 
Is it not possible that these disappearing bird species quit their habitation 
without, and find an asylum in the "within world"? 
Whether inland among the mountains, or along the seashore, we found bird life 
prolific. When they spread their great wings some of the birds appeared to 
measure thirty feet from tip to tip. They are of great variety and many colors. 
We were permitted to climb up on the edge of a rock and examine a nest of eggs. 
There were five in the nest, each of which was at least two feet in length and 
fifteen inches in diameter. 
After we had been in the city of Hectea about a week, Professor Galdea took us 
to an inlet, where we saw thousands of tortoises along the sandy shore. I 
hesitate to state the size of these great creatures. They were from twenty-five 
to thirty feet in length, from fifteen to twenty feet in width and fully seven 
feet in height. When one of them projected its head it had the appearance of 
some hideous sea monster. 
The strange conditions "within" are favorable not only for vast meadows of 
luxuriant grasses, forests of giant trees, and all manner of vegetable life, but 
wonderful animal life as well. 
One day we saw a great herd of elephants. There must have been five hundred of 
these thunder-throated monsters, with their restlessly waving trunks. They were 
tearing huge boughs from the trees and trampling smaller growth into dust like 
so much hazel-brush. They would average over 100 feet in length and from 75 to 
85 in height. 
It seemed, as I gazed upon this wonderful herd of giant elephants, that I was 
again living in the public library at Stockholm, where I had spent much time 
studying the wonders of the Miocene age. I was filled with mute astonishment, 
and my father was speechless with awe. He held my arm with a protecting grip, as 
if fearful harm would overtake us. We were two atoms in this great forest, and, 
fortunately, unobserved by this vast herd of elephants as they drifted on and 
away, following a leader as does a herd of sheep. They browsed from growing 
herbage which they encountered as they traveled, and now and again shook the 
firmament with their deep bellowing.[20] 
[20 "Moreover, there were a great number of elephants in the island: and there 
was provision for animals of every kind. Also whatever fragrant things there are 
in the earth, whether roots or herbage, or woods, or distilling drops of flowers 
or fruits, grew and thrived in that land." -- The Cratylus of Plato.] 
There is a hazy mist that goes up from the land each evening, and it invariably 
rains once every twenty-four hours. This great moisture and the invigorating 
electrical light and warmth account perhaps for the luxuriant vegetation, while 
the highly charged electrical air and the evenness of climatic conditions may 
have much to do with the giant growth and longevity of all animal life. 
In places the level valleys stretched away for many miles in every direction. 
"The Smoky God," in its clear white light, looked calmly down. There was an 
intoxication in the electrically surcharged air that fanned the cheek as softly 
as a vanishing whisper. Nature chanted a lullaby in the faint murmur of winds 
whose breath was sweet with the fragrance of bud and blossom. 
After having spent considerably more than a year in visiting several of the many 
cities of the "within" world and a great deal of intervening country, and more 
than two years had passed from the time we had been picked up by the great 
excursion ship on the river, we decided to cast our fortunes once more upon the 
sea, and endeavor to regain the "outside" surface of the earth. 
We made known our wishes, and they were reluctantly but promptly followed. Our 
hosts gave my father, at his request, various maps showing the entire "inside" 
surface of the earth, its cities, oceans, seas, rivers, gulfs and bays. They 
also generously offered to give us all the bags of gold nuggets -- some of them 
as large as a goose's egg -- that we were willing to attempt to take with us in 
our little fishing-boat. 
In due time we returned to Jehu, at which place we spent one month in fixing up 
and overhauling our little fishing sloop. After all was in readiness, the same 
ship "Naz" that originally discovered us, took us on board and sailed to the 
mouth of the river Hiddekel. 
After our giant brothers had launched our little craft for us, they were most 
cordially regretful at parting, and evinced much solicitude for our safety. My 
father swore by the Gods Odin and Thor that he would surely return again within 
a year or two and pay them another visit. And thus we bade them adieu. We made 
ready and hoisted our sail, but there was little breeze. We were becalmed within 
an hour after our giant friends had left us and started on their return trip. 
The winds were constantly blowing south, that is, they were blowing from the 
northern opening of the earth toward that which we knew to be south, but which, 
according to our compass's pointing finger, was directly north. 
For three days we tried to sail, and to beat against the wind, but to no avail. 
Whereupon my father said: "My son, to return by the same route as we came in is 
impossible at this time of year. I wonder why we did not think of this before. 
We have been here almost two and a half years; therefore, this is the season 
when the sun is beginning to shine in at the southern opening of the earth. The 
long cold night is on in the Spitzbergen country." 
"What shall we do?" I inquired. 
"There is only one thing we can do," my father replied, "and that is to go 
south." Accordingly, he turned the craft about, gave it full reef, and started 
by the compass north but, in fact, directly south. The wind was strong, and we 
seemed to have struck a current that was running with remarkable swiftness in 
the same direction. 
In just forty days we arrived at Delfi, a city we had visited in company with 
our guides Jules Galdea and his wife, near the mouth of the Gihon river. Here we 
stopped for two days, and were most hospitably entertained by the same people 
who had welcomed us on our former visit. We laid in some additional provisions 
and again set sail, following the needle due north. 
On our outward trip we came through a narrow channel which appeared to be a 
separating body of water between two considerable bodies of land. There was a 
beautiful beach to our right, and we decided to reconnoiter. Casting anchor, we 
waded ashore to rest up for a day before continuing the outward hazardous 
undertaking. We built a fire and threw on some sticks of dry driftwood. While my 
father was walking along the shore, I prepared a tempting repast from supplies 
we had provided. 
There was a mild, luminous light which my father said resulted from the sun 
shining in from the south aperture of the earth. That night we slept soundly, 
and awakened the next morning as refreshed as if we had been in our own beds at 
Stockholm. 
After breakfast we started out on an inland tour of discovery, but had not gone 
far when we sighted some birds which we recognized at once as belonging to the 
penguin family. 
They are flightless birds, but excellent swimmers and tremendous in size, with 
white breast, short wings, black head, and long peaked bills. They stand fully 
nine feet high. They looked at us with little surprise, and presently waddled, 
rather than walked, toward the water, and swam away in a northerly 
direction.[21] 
[21 "The nights are never so dark at the Poles as in other regions, for the moon 
and stars seem to possess twice as much light and effulgence. In addition, there 
is a continuous light, the varied shades and play of which are amongst the 
strangest phenomena of nature." -- Rambrosson's Astronomy.] 
The events that occurred during the following hundred or more days beggar 
description. We were on an open and iceless sea. The month we reckoned to be 
November or December, and we knew the so-called South Pole was turned toward the 
sun. Therefore, when passing out and away from the internal electrical light of 
"The Smoky God" and its genial warmth, we would be met by the light and warmth 
of the sun, shining in through the south opening of the earth. We were not 
mistaken.[22] 
[22 "The fact that gives the phenomenon of the polar aurora its greatest 
importance is that the earth becomes self-luminous; that, besides the light 
which as a planet is received from the central body, it shows a capability of 
sustaining a luminous process proper to itself." -- Humboldt.] 
There were times when our little craft, driven by wind that was continuous and 
persistent, shot through the waters like an arrow. Indeed, had we encountered a 
hidden rock or obstacle, our little vessel would have been crushed into 
kindling-wood. 
At last we were conscious that the atmosphere was growing decidedly colder, and, 
a few days later, icebergs were sighted far to the left. My father argued, and 
correctly, that the winds which filled our sails came from the warm climate 
"within." The time of the year was certainly most auspicious for us to make our 
dash for the "outside" world and attempt to scud our fishing sloop through open 
channels of the frozen zone which surrounds the polar regions. 
We were soon amid the ice-packs, and how our little craft got through. the 
narrow channels and escaped being crushed I know not. The compass behaved in the 
same drunken and unreliable fashion in passing over the southern curve or edge 
of the earth's shell as it had done on our inbound trip at the northern 
entrance. It gyrated, dipped and seemed like a thing possessed.[23] 
[23 Captain Sabine, on page 105 in "Voyages in the Arctic Regions," says: "The 
geographical determination of the direction and intensity of the magnetic forces 
at different points of the earth's surface has been regarded as an object worthy 
of especial research. To examine in different parts of the globe, the 
declination, inclination and intensity of the magnetic force, and their 
periodical and secular variations, and mutual relations and dependencies could 
be duly investigated only in fixed magnetical observatories."] 
One day as I was lazily looking over the sloop's side into the clear waters, my 
father shouted: "Breakers ahead!" Looking up, I saw through a lifting mist a 
white object that towered several hundred feet high, completely shutting off our 
advance. We lowered sail immediately, and none too soon. In a moment we found 
ourselves wedged between two monstrous icebergs. Each was crowding and grinding 
against its fellow mountain of ice. They were like two gods of war contending 
for supremacy. We were greatly alarmed. Indeed, we were between the lines of a 
battle royal; the sonorous thunder of the grinding ice was like the continued 
volleys of artillery. Blocks of ice larger than a house were frequently lifted 
up a hundred feet by the mighty force of lateral pressure; they would shudder 
and rock to and fro for a few seconds, then come crashing down with a deafening 
roar, and disappear in the foaming waters. Thus, for more than two hours, the 
contest of the icy giants continued. 
It seemed as if the end had come. The ice pressure was terrific, and while we 
were not caught in the dangerous part of the jam, and were safe for the time 
being, yet the heaving and rending of tons of ice as it fell splashing here and 
there into the watery depths filled us with shaking fear. 
Finally, to our great joy, the grinding of the ice ceased, and within a few 
hours the great mass slowly divided, and, as if an act of Providence had been 
performed, right before us lay an open channel. Should we venture with our 
little craft into this opening? If the pressure came on again, our little sloop 
as well as ourselves would be crushed into nothingness. We decided to take the 
chance, and, accordingly, hoisted our sail to a favoring breeze, and soon 
started out like a race-horse, running the gauntlet of this unknown narrow 
channel of open water. 
PART FIVE. AMONG THE ICE PACKS
FOR the next forty-five days our time was employed in dodging icebergs and 
hunting channels; indeed, had we not been favored with a strong south wind and a 
small boat, I doubt if this story could have ever been given to the world. 
At last, there came a morning when my father said: "My son, I think we are to 
see home. We are almost through the ice. See! the open water lies before us." 
However, there were a few icebergs that had floated far northward into the open 
water still ahead of us on either side, stretching away for many miles. Directly 
in front of us, and by the compass, which had now righted itself, due north, 
there was an open sea. 
"What a wonderful story we have to tell to the people of Stockholm," continued 
my father, while a look of pardonable elation lighted up his honest face. "And 
think of the gold nuggets stowed away in the hold!" 
I spoke kind words of praise to my father, not alone for his fortitude and 
endurance, but also for his courageous daring as a discoverer, and for having 
made the voyage that now promised a successful end. I was grateful, too, that he 
had gathered the wealth of gold we were carrying home. 
While congratulating ourselves on the goodly supply of provisions and water we 
still had on hand, and on the dangers we had escaped, we were startled by 
hearing a most terrific explosion, caused by the tearing apart of a huge 
mountain of ice. It was a deafening roar like the firing of a thousand cannon. 
We were sailing at the time with great speed, and happened to be near a 
monstrous iceberg which to all appearances was as immovable as a rockbound 
island. It seemed, however, that the iceberg had split and was breaking apart, 
whereupon the balance of the monster along which we were sailing was destroyed, 
and it began dipping from us. My father quickly anticipated the danger before I 
realized its awful possibilities. The iceberg extended down into the water many 
hundreds of feet, and, as it tipped over, the portion coming up out of the water 
caught our fishing-craft like a lever on a fulcrum, and threw it into the air as 
if it had been a foot-ball. 
Our boat fell back on the iceberg, that by this time had changed the side next 
to us for the top. My father was still in the boat, having become entangled in 
the rigging, while I was thrown some twenty feet away. 
I quickly scrambled to my feet and shouted to my father, who answered: "All is 
well." Just then a realization dawned upon me. Horror upon horror! The blood 
froze in my veins. The iceberg was still in motion, and its great weight and 
force in toppling over would cause it to submerge temporarily. I fully realized 
what a sucking maelstrom it would produce amid the worlds of water on every 
side. They would rush into the depression in all their fury, like white-fanged 
wolves eager for human prey. 
In this supreme moment of mental anguish, I remember glancing at our boat, which 
was lying on its side, and wondering if it could possibly right itself, and if 
my father could escape. Was this the end of our struggles and adventures? Was 
this death? All these questions flashed through my mind in the fraction of a 
second, and a moment later I was engaged in a life and death struggle. The 
ponderous monolith of ice sank below the surface, and the frigid waters gurgled 
around me in frenzied anger. I was in a saucer, with the waters pouring in on 
every side. A moment more and I lost consciousness. 
When I partially recovered my senses, and roused from the swoon of a 
half-drowned man, I found myself wet, stiff, and almost frozen, lying on the 
iceberg. But there was no sign of my father or of our little fishing sloop. The 
monster berg had recovered itself, and, with its new balance, lifted its head 
perhaps fifty feet above the waves. The top of this island of ice was a plateau 
perhaps half an acre in extent. 
I loved my father well, and was grief-stricken at the awfulness of his death. I 
railed at fate, that I, too, had not been permitted to sleep with him in the 
depths of the ocean. Finally, I climbed to my feet and looked about me. The 
purple-domed sky above, the shoreless green ocean beneath, and only an 
occasional iceberg discernible! My heart sank in hopeless despair. I cautiously 
picked my way across the berg toward the other side, hoping that our fishing 
craft had righted itself. 
Dared I think it possible that my father still lived? It was but a ray of hope 
that flamed up in my heart. But the anticipation warmed my blood in my veins and 
started it rushing like some rare stimulant through every fiber of my body. 
I crept close to the precipitous side of the iceberg, and peered far down, 
hoping, still hoping. Then I made a circle of the berg, scanning every foot of 
the way, and thus I kept going around and around. One part of my brain was 
certainly becoming maniacal, while the other part, I believe, and do to this 
day, was perfectly rational. 
I was conscious of having made the circuit a dozen times, and while one part of 
my intelligence knew, in all reason, there was not a vestige of hope, yet some 
strange fascinating aberration bewitched and compelled me still to beguile 
myself with expectation. The other part of my brain seemed to tell me that while 
there was no possibility of my father being alive, yet, if I quit making the 
circuitous pilgrimage, if I paused for a single moment, it would be 
acknowledgment of defeat, and, should I do this, I felt that I should go mad. 
Thus, hour after hour I walked around and around, afraid to stop and rest, yet 
physically powerless to continue much longer. Oh! horror of horrors! to be cast 
away in this wide expanse of waters without food or drink, and only a 
treacherous iceberg for an abiding place. My heart sank within me, and all 
semblance of hope was fading into black despair. 
Then the hand of the Deliverer was extended, and the death-like stillness of a 
solitude rapidly becoming unbearable was suddenly broken by the firing of a 
signal-gun. I looked up in startled amazement, when, I saw, less than a 
half-mile away, a whaling-vessel bearing down toward me with her sail full set. 
Evidently my continued activity on the iceberg had attracted their attention. On 
drawing near, they put out a boat, and, descending cautiously to the water's 
edge, I was rescued, and a little later lifted on board the whaling-ship. 
I found it was a Scotch whaler, "The Arlington." She had cleared from Dundee in 
September, and started immediately for the Antarctic, in search of whales. The 
captain, Angus MacPherson, seemed kindly disposed, but in matters of discipline, 
as I soon learned, possessed of an iron will. When I attempted to tell him that 
I had come from the "inside" of the earth, the captain and mate looked at each 
other, shook their heads, and insisted on my being put in a bunk under strict 
surveillance of the ship's physician. 
I was very weak for want of food, and had not slept for many hours. However, 
after a few days' rest, I got up one morning and dressed myself without asking 
permission of the physician or anyone else, and told them that I was as sane as 
anyone. 
The captain sent for me and again questioned me concerning where I had come 
from, and how I came to be alone on an iceberg in the far off Antarctic Ocean. I 
replied that I had just come from the "inside" of the earth, and proceeded to 
tell him how my father and myself had gone in by way of Spitzbergen, and come 
out by way of the South Pole country, whereupon I was put in irons. I afterward 
heard the captain tell the mate that I was as crazy as a March hare, and that I 
must remain in confinement until I was rational enough to give a truthful 
account of myself. 
Finally, after much pleading and many promises, I was released from irons. I 
then and there decided to invent some story that would satisfy the captain, and 
never again refer to my trip to the land of "The Smoky God," at least until I 
was safe among friends. 
Within a fortnight I was permitted to go about and take my place as one of the 
seamen. A little later the captain asked me for an explanation. I told him that 
my experience had been so horrible that I was fearful of my memory, and begged 
him to permit me to leave the question unanswered until some time in the future. 
"I think you are recovering considerably," he said, "but you are not sane yet by 
a good deal." "Permit me to do such work as you may assign," I replied, "and if 
it does not compensate you sufficiently, I will pay you immediately after I 
reach Stockholm -- to the last penny." Thus the matter rested. 
On finally reaching Stockholm, as I have already related, I found that my good 
mother had gone to her reward more than a year before. I have also told how, 
later, the treachery of a relative landed me in a madhouse, where I remained for 
twenty-eight years -- seemingly unending years -- and, still later, after my 
release, how I returned to the life of a fisherman, following it sedulously for 
twenty-seven years, then how I came to America, and finally to Los Angeles, 
California. But all this can be of little interest to the reader. Indeed, it 
seems to me the climax of my wonderful travels and strange adventures was 
reached when the Scotch sailing-vessel took me from an iceberg on the Antarctic 
Ocean. 
PART SIX. CONCLUSION
IN concluding this history of my adventures, I wish to state that I firmly 
believe science is yet in its infancy concerning the cosmology of the earth. 
There is so much that is unaccounted for by the world's accepted knowledge of 
to-day, and will ever remain so until the land of "The Smoky God" is known and 
recognized by our geographers. 
It is the land from whence came the great logs of cedar that have been found by 
explorers in open waters far over the northern edge of the earth's crust, and 
also the bodies of mammoths whose bones are found in vast beds on the Siberian 
coast. 
Northern explorers have done much. Sir John Franklin, De Haven Grinnell, Sir 
John Murray, Kane, Melville, Hall, Nansen, Schwatka, Greely, Peary, Ross, 
Gerlache, Bernacchi, Andree, Amsden, Amundson and others have all been striving 
to storm the frozen citadel of mystery. 
I firmly believe that Andree and his two brave companions, Strindberg and 
Fraenckell, who sailed away in the balloon "Oreon" from the northwest coast of 
Spitzbergen on that Sunday afternoon of July 11, 1897, are now in the "within" 
world, and doubtless are being entertained, as my father and myself were 
entertained by the kind-hearted giant race inhabiting the inner Atlantic 
Continent. 
Having, in my humble way, devoted years to these problems, I am well acquainted 
with the accepted definitions of gravity, as well as the cause of the magnetic 
needle's attraction, and I am prepared to say that it is my firm belief that the 
magnetic needle is influenced solely by electric currents which completely 
envelop the earth like a garment, and that these electric currents in an endless 
circuit pass out of the southern end of the earth's cylindrical opening, 
diffusing and spreading themselves over all the "outside" surface, and rushing 
madly on in their course toward the North Pole. And while these currents 
seemingly dash off into space at the earth's curve or edge, yet they drop again 
to the "inside" surface and continue their way southward along the inside of the 
earth's crust, toward the opening of the so-called South Pole.[24] 
[24 "Mr. Lemstrom concluded that an electric discharge which could only be seen 
by means of the spectroscope was taking place on the surface of the ground all 
around him, and that from a distance it would appear as a faint display of 
Aurora, the phenomena of pale and flaming light which is some times seen on the 
top of the Spitzbergen Mountains." -- The Arctic Manual, page 739.] 
As to gravity, no one knows what it is, because it has not been determined 
whether it is atmospheric pressure that causes the apple to fall, or whether, 
150 miles below the surface of the earth, supposedly one-half way through the 
earth's crust, there exists some powerful loadstone attraction that draws it. 
Therefore, whether the apple, when it leaves the limb of the tree, is drawn or 
impelled downward to the nearest point of resistance, is unknown to the students 
of physics. 
Sir James Ross claimed to have discovered the magnetic pole at about 
seventy-four degrees latitude. This is wrong -- the magnetic pole is exactly 
one-half the distance through the earth's crust. Thus, if the earth's crust is 
three hundred miles in thickness, which is the distance I estimate it to be, 
then the magnetic pole is undoubtedly one hundred and fifty miles below the 
surface of the earth, it matters not where the test is made. And at this 
particular point one hundred and fifty miles below the surface, gravity ceases, 
becomes neutralized; and when we pass beyond that point on toward the "inside" 
surface of the earth, a reverse attraction geometrically increases in power, 
until the other one hundred and fifty miles of distance is traversed, which 
would bring us out on the "inside" of the earth. 
Thus, if a hole were bored down through the earth's crust at London, Paris, New 
York, Chicago, or Los Angeles, a distance of three hundred miles, it would 
connect the two surfaces. While the inertia and momentum of a weight dropped in 
from the "outside" surface would carry it far past the magnetic center, yet, 
before reaching the "inside" surface of the earth it would gradually diminish in 
speed, after passing the halfway point, finally pause and immediately fall back 
toward the "outside" surface, and continue thus to oscillate, like the swinging 
of a pendulum with the power removed, until it would finally rest at the 
magnetic center, or at that particular point exactly one-half the distance 
between the "outside" surface and the "inside" surface of the earth. 
The gyration of the earth in its daily act of whirling around in its spiral 
rotation -- at a rate greater than one thousand miles every hour, or about 
seventeen miles per second -- makes of it a vast electro-generating body, a huge 
machine, a mighty prototype of the puny-man-made dynamo, which, at best, is but 
a feeble imitation of nature's original, 
The valleys of this inner Atlantis Continent, bordering the upper waters of the 
farthest north are in season covered with the most magnificent and luxuriant 
flowers. Not hundreds and thousands, but millions, of acres, from which the 
pollen or blossoms are carried far away in almost every direction by the earth's 
spiral gyrations and the agitation of the wind resulting therefrom, and it is 
these blossoms or pollen from the vast floral meadows "within" that produce the 
colored snows of the Arctic regions that have so mystified the northern 
explorers.[25] 
[25 Kane, vol. I, page 44, says: "We passed the 'crimson cliffs' of Sir John 
Ross in the forenoon of August 5th. The patches of red snow from which they 
derive their name could be seen clearly at the distance of ten miles from the 
coast." 
La Chambre, in an account of Andree's balloon expedition, on page 144, says: "On 
the isle of Amsterdam the snow is tinted with red for a considerable distance, 
and the savants are collecting it to examine it microscopically. It presents, in 
fact, certain peculiarities; it is thought that it contains very small plants. 
Scoresby, the famous whaler, had already remarked this."] 
Beyond question, this new land "within" is the home, the cradle, of the human 
race, and viewed from the standpoint of the discoveries made by us, must of 
necessity have a most important bearing on all physical, paleontological, 
archaeological, philological and mythological theories of antiquity. 
The same idea of going back to the land of mystery -- to the very beginning -- 
to the origin of man -- is found in Egyptian traditions of the earlier 
terrestrial regions of the gods, heroes and men, from the historical fragments 
of Manetho, fully verified by the historical records taken from the more recent 
excavations of Pompeii as well as the traditions of the North American Indians. 
It is now one hour past midnight -- the new year of 1908 is here, and this is 
the third day thereof, and having at last finished the record of my strange 
travels and adventures I wish given to the world, I am ready, and even longing, 
for the peaceful rest which I am sure will follow life's trials and 
vicissitudes. I am old in years, and ripe both with adventures and sorrows, yet 
rich with the few friends I have cemented to me in my struggles to lead a just 
and upright life. Like a story that is well-nigh told, my life is ebbing away. 
The presentiment is strong within me that I shall not live to see the rising of 
another sun. Thus do I conclude my message.
OLAF JANSEN. 
PART SEVEN. AUTHOR'S AFTERWORD
I FOUND much difficulty in deciphering and editing the manuscripts of Olaf 
Jansen. However, I have taken the liberty of reconstructing only a very few 
expressions, and in doing this have in no way changed the spirit or meaning. 
Otherwise, the original text has neither been added to nor taken from. 
It is impossible for me to express my opinion as to the value or reliability of 
the wonderful statements made by Olaf Jansen. The description here given of the 
strange lands and people visited by him, location of cities, the names and 
directions of rivers, and other information herein combined, conform in every 
way to the rough drawings given into my custody by this ancient Norseman, which 
drawings together with the manuscript it is my intention at some later date to 
give to the Smithsonian Institution, to preserve for the benefit of those 
interested in the mysteries of the "Farthest North" -- the frozen circle of 
silence. It is certain there are many things in Vedic literature, in "Josephus," 
the "Odyssey," the "Iliad," Terrien de Lacouperie's "Early History of Chinese 
Civilization," Flammarion's "Astronomical Myths," Lenormant's "Beginnings of 
History," Hesiod's "Theogony," Sir John de Maundeville's writings, and Sayce's 
"Records of the Past," that, to say the least, are strangely in harmony with the 
seemingly incredible text found in the yellow manuscript of the old Norseman, 
Olaf Jansen, and now for the first time given to the world.