flood the room with a light rivalling that of day, or produce total darkness.
"This hammock," said Utis, after he had explained the use of the different knobs, "is suspended, as you see, in the line of the magnetic meridian. This is for physiological reasons that I will explain some other time. Let us take another look into your trunk," he added, leading the way to the other room. "It seems to me that I noticed something resembling a diary among your other effects."
By this time he had approached the one trunk that had been opened. At his suggestion I raised the lid; and there, sure enough, lay a large morocco-covered volume, with heavy clasp and lock.
"You may find much to interest you in that volume," said Utis. "But do not sit up too late. I will call you early."
Having thus said, he wished me pleasant slumbers, and left me to my meditations. Fatigued as I was with the crowd of novel ideas that had thronged upon me in such rapid succession, I could not refrain from a cursory examination of the diary of Ismar Thiusen, as was signified on the cover. Surely I had before seen a volume not unlike this. The contents, too, had a vaguely familiar air, like that of the long-forgotten story read again for the first time since childhood. Interspersed with numerous notes on favorite archeological subjects were observations suggested by visits to the great cities of the island-continent now known as Australia. My travels, or, rather, Ismar's, had apparently not extended beyond that archipelago. But these regions were vast enough
