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The Lost Continent by Charles John Cutcliffe Wright Hyne
page 57 of 343 (16%)
We came in sight of the peak of the sacred mountain, with its
glare of eternal fires which stand behind the city, one morning
with the day's break, and the whips of the boatswains cracked more
vehemently, so that those offensive slaves should give the galley
a final spurt. The wind was adverse, and no sail could be spread,
but under oars alone we made a pretty pace, and the sides of the
sacred mountain grew longer, and presently the peaks of the
pyramids in the city, the towers of the higher buildings, began to
show themselves as though they floated upon the gleaming water. It
was twenty years since I had seen Atlantis last, and my heart
glowed with the thought of treading again upon her paving-stones.

The splendid city grew out of the sea as we approached, and to
every throb of the oars, the shores leaped nearer. I saw the
temple where I had been admitted first to manhood; I saw the
pyramid in whose heart I had been initiated to the small mysteries;
and then (as the lesser objects became discernible) I made out the
house where a father and a mother had reared me, and my eyes became
dim as the memories rose.

We drew up outside the white walls of the harbour, as the law
was, and the slaves panted and sobbed in quietude over the
oar-looms. For vessels thus stationed there is, generally, a
sufficiency of waiting, for a port-captain is apt to be so
uncertain of his own dignity, that he must e'en keep folks waiting
to prove it to them. But here for us it might have been that the
port-captain's boat was waiting. The signal was sounded from the
two castles at the harbour's entrance, the chain which hung between
them was dropped, and a ten-oared boat shot out from behind the
walls as fast as oars could drive her. She raced up alongside and
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