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- 8097
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:18.539Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
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- 8030
- text
- Advancing Deeper Into The Vale, They Encounter Donjalolo
From the mouth of the cavern, a broad shaded way over-arched by
fraternal trees embracing in mid-air, conducted us to a cross-path, on
either hand leading to the opposite cliffs, shading the twin villages
before mentioned.
Level as a meadow, was the bosom of the glen. Here, nodding with green
orchards of the Bread-fruit and the Palm; there, flashing with golden
plantations of the Banana. Emerging from these, we came out upon a
grassy mead, skirting a projection of the mountain. And soon we crossed
a bridge of boughs, spanning a trench, thickly planted with roots of
the Tara, like alligators, or Hollanders, reveling in the soft
alluvial. Strolling on, the wild beauty of the mountains excited our
attention. The topmost crags poured over with vines; which, undulating
in the air, seemed leafy cascades; their sources the upland groves.
Midway up the precipice, along a shelf of rock, sprouted the
multitudinous roots of an apparently trunkless tree. Shooting from
under the shallow soil, they spread all over the rocks below, covering
them with an intricate net-work. While far aloft, great boughs—each a
copse—clambered to the very summit of the mountain; then bending over,
struck anew into the soil; forming along the verge an interminable
colonnade; all manner of antic architecture standing against the sky.
According to Mohi, this tree was truly wonderful; its seed having been
dropped from the moon; where were plenty more similar forests, causing
the dark spots on its surface.
Here and there, the cool fluid in the veins of the mountains gushed
forth in living springs; their waters received in green mossy tanks,
half buried in grasses.
In one place, a considerable stream, bounding far out from a wooded
height, ere reaching the ground was dispersed in a wide misty shower,
falling so far from the base of the cliff; that walking close
underneath, you felt little moisture. Passing this fall of vapors, we
spied many Islanders taking a bath.
But what is yonder swaying of the foliage? And what now issues forth,
like a habitation astir? Donjalolo drawing nigh to his guests.
He came in a fair sedan; a bower, resting upon three long, parallel
poles, borne by thirty men, gayly attired; five at each pole-end.
Decked with dyed tappas, and looped with garlands of newly-plucked
flowers, from which, at every step, the fragrant petals were blown;
with a sumptuous, elastic motion the gay sedan came on; leaving behind
it a long, rosy wake of fluttering leaves and odors.
Drawing near, it revealed a slender, enervate youth, of pallid beauty,
reclining upon a crimson mat, near the festooned arch of the bower. His
anointed head was resting against the bosom of a girl; another stirred
the air, with a fan of Pintado plumes. The pupils of his eyes were as
floating isles in the sea. In a soft low tone he murmured “Media!”
The bearers paused; and Media advancing; the Island Kings bowed their
foreheads together.
Through tubes ignited at the end, Donjaloln’s reclining attendants now
blew an aromatic incense around him. These were composed of the
stimulating leaves of the “Aina,” mixed with the long yellow blades of
a sweet-scented upland grass; forming a hollow stem. In general, the
agreeable fumes of the “Aina” were created by one’s own inhalations;
but Donjalolo deeming the solace too dearly purchased by any exertion
of the royal lungs, regaled himself through those of his attendants,
whose lips were as moss-rose buds after a shower.
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