writing, words first, and then sentences, were inscribed. Under each
word and each sentence strange characters in another hand. Rallying my
senses, I comprehended that thus a rude dictionary had been effected.
Had it been done while I was dreaming? "That is enough now," said Zee,
in a tone of command. "Repose and take food."



Chapter VII.


A room to myself was assigned to me in this vast edifice. It was
prettily and fantastically arranged, but without any of the splendour
of metal-work or gems which was displayed in the more public apartments.
The walls were hung with a variegated matting made from the stalks and
fibers of plants, and the floor carpeted with the same.

The bed was without curtains, its supports of iron resting on balls of
crystal; the coverings, of a thin white substance resembling cotton.
There were sundry shelves containing books. A curtained recess
communicated with an aviary filled with singing--birds, of which I
did not recognise one resembling those I have seen on earth, except a
beautiful species of dove, though this was distinguished from our doves
by a tall crest of bluish plumes. All these birds had been trained
to sing in artful tunes, and greatly exceeded the skill of our piping
bullfinches, which can rarely achieve more than two tunes, and cannot, I
believe, sing those in concert. One might have supposed one's self at
an opera in listening to the voices in my aviary. There were duets
and trios, and quartetts and choruses, all arranged as in one piece of
music. Did I want silence from the birds? I had but to draw a curtain