This is a collection of writings for the Neoromance project. See the relevant page for more information. These are not meant to be objective views on the universe and histories, but rather subjective, dogmatic, even outright weighted garbage. Some of them are really silly, some utterly boring, but I had a lot of fun writing them. Today, I guess I would have done many things differently, but here are the writings as they were.



A general study, by Nagus Er’Ul, assistant cissomatic theorist

INNER SHELL or ”Deo”: the verse of reality and time, composed of mellow ether, the air, the fire, the void and the animate soil that comprises all else, including the rootlife and the elusive source of intelligent animation. Illumination and warmth for Deo radiates our distant solar furnace, given the name of Myahud by the Second Men of Deo, also known as the first Dynasty, and it is an enormous burning globe of fire in constant revolutive motion around the ball of matter that is all. It is opposed by a globe of void, the Mirkhud, which during mirk chills the opposing side of Deo with equalizing measure, with both of them attached to the firmament of the celestial empyrea; and through divine will, the farthest stratum of existence keeps spinning in constant motion.

According to archaic Octedact myth, nothing exists beyond the celestial body but Falsea, or Outer Shell: the horrible realm of the Mya, the supposed omnipotent prime beings, who are in essence god-spirits of Deo and all verses. The cosmic birth an eternity of lapses ago of the trinity of god-siblings from the Prime Seed is marked as the beginning of time and matter as we perceive it, though, during this time the verse was a cold and empty place, without Deo, Men or even rootlife. Mya Golos, Lord of Void, is often thought of as the elder brother, though he is far from virtuous, having little more than contempt and indifference toward the fate of Men; Mya Magh, the Hand of Entropy, is the middle sibling and recognized as the arch-adversial defier, who challenges the mortal spirit in the constant struggle for survival; and the lastborn god-sibling, Mya Nubilca, is titled as having created Men in the primordial times, and is associated with fickle innocence, curiosity and the will to live. She is presumed to be long dead, slain by her antagonistic brother Mya Magh ”when Deo was in it’s infancy”. Sensing her imminent death, she encased Deo inside an impenetrable mantle firmament {the celestial empyrea}, onto which Myahud and Mirkhud, the twin stars were mounted to feed the newly-created rootlife. Some herald her as the divine mother and savior for this action of mercy and for the existence of life in general. During the current, 720th lapse, the presence, even the very existence of Mya is contested by some, and a belief has surfaced which hints that a more encompassing explanation for the verse, both inner {Deo} and outer shell {what is outside}. For more knowledge on the Mya myth, the Omnia Octedact may be consulted.

What eventually plunged Men from the Mirk-age of quasi-religious, speculative view of the verses into the path of the Cissomatic Gnosis, or rational inquiry, were nothing more than casual delvings at first into the metaphysical essence of rootlife on a miniscule magnitudal level. These intricate studies yielded troubling inconsistencies in those dictated by Omnia Octedact, the often quoted written history and former spiritual tenet of Men: those mainly concerning the lability of the corpuscle, which is the smallest known mote of substance discovered as of the writing of this study. Rootlife is the term used for the dirt of Deo and all life that is gives, including each of us. We are all of rootlife, which was long thought {and as explained in the Omnia Octedact volume two} to be the lifegift given to us by Mya Nubilca, starting all life from one single corpuscle, then gradually over countless lapses evolving into what we are now.

Corpuscles of rootlife have the tendency to avoid detection, and even when observed appear to interconnect in a way that makes them almost indistiguishable from each other. Closer observation of the patterns of the corpuscles seem to hint that they are all part of some greater whole that cannot be fathomed in such miniscule scale of observation. The popular theory, supported by a number of highly-esteemed scholars is that the all corpuscles form a fabric of space and time, and in essence, we are all united by the very fragments that compose us. The most curious observation was that each corpuscle has a primal intelligence following a decree of laws and rules beforehand dictated, built into their base composition, which in itself is bent on individual survival, and that such mote cannot in actuality ”die”, but only stops working until it is reformed again in a living body of corpuscles and thus reinitiated in motion. This newly found disparity of myth and reality is a mind-puzzling for many an alchemist of the 7th hundredcircuit. Now, several of the claims previously taken as irrefutable facts the Omnia Octedact makes have troubling inconsitencies in verse realismic studies. Take the claim for divine difference for example: that all matter was created separately in the Prime Seed Event, and that gods are not of matter at all. Inside an ossuary husk that the Octedact cult possesses are implied to be the sacred mortal remains of Mya Nubilca. When her mortified flesh was inspected to the corpuscle, it was found to be almost identical in primordial composition to that of an average dweller of Deo, with the only exception being the exceedingly high amount of mellow ether, an anomalous substance present in tiny quanitites in all corpuscles and even in void chambers. For some, this discovery only reinforced the myth of a god’s will made manifest to flesh; to others, less so.

Mellow ether is a whole different chapter of oddness. Precious little has been unraveled of it’s secrets, as it’s composition seems to be dependent on the amount of conciousness stimulated by corpuscles in close proximity to mellow ether waves. The discovery of residual mellow ether in the alleged remains of Mya Nubilca had conservative Octedact cultists proclaim it as the ”godmind wave” {once again striking a painful point in the presumption for the average cultist’s desire to be a pawn of something larger} and in time this created a base of hierarchy dependent on the amount of mellow ether activity within one’s body. Some went even as far as measuring mellow ether from inanimate objects and ground rootlife formations, which were then commenced to be revered. Nevertheless, the gnosist consensus is that further study is required to understand this mellow ether fluid we all swim about in.

Whatever the case, it is beginning to become clear that our verse is not a result of mere caprice of invisible sky-gods of terror and awe, but rather the result of some ancient cosmic cataclysm. What lies beyond the celestial body that encompasses Deo remains to be seen, as one day Men of this Verse shall yet traverse those heights and penetrate that mysterious body to enter a verse of infinite possibilities.

Chronogeology: Rootlife

for educative purposes by the esteemed Catz Seeker Society

By public admission, the primordial times are often considered a lapse of chaos, uncertainty and of constant strife. For most parts, these beliefs ring true, yet such conjectures go wrong in assuming the lapse was of pain, suffering and a neverending torment of survival. Sure, these things did exist from the very moment the first rootlife corpuscle plopped into existence from nothing, as Deo was back then what one would call a ’hostile environment’, and nutrients were scarce, but for a time there was an era of surprising serenity. Predatory rootlife competetion came only many, many lapses since. After lapses of replicating, the first rootlife found it had filled Deo with clones of itself, all devouring what they could from the dead husk-matter that was present in such primordial age. It found nutrients harder and harder to find every cycle, and wherever it went, always there were clones of itself already there, consuming the precious nutrients it sought to prolong it’s existence. A thought occurred to it’s rudimentary mind {perhaps the very first concious choice to be realized} that since it’s brothers and sisters had ingested nutrients, consuming them would yield a condensed amount of digestibles. This event marks the beginning of the spark of adversity, and the natural process of mind over matter, cunning over the savage.

For countless lapses, Deo was a wrangling cage for the most fierce and most intelligent of active rootlife. In this era, the vegetatious rootlife was also born from primordial corpuscles that subconsciously refused to trade their tranquil harvesting of nutrients for viciously assaulting older and lesser rootlife, but instead growing actual roots, planting themselves into the soil and allowing themselves to be consumed partially, and digesting the parts of others in turn unusable by active rootlife which was left in their vicinity. Some chose instead of becoming vegetatious and simultaneously forgetting their long-cultivated intelligence to sacrifice survivability for high propagative rate. Many diverse prime genus of rootlife was birthed during this era, all contending to survive the wiles of others, but only several remain to this day: why? Excluding those few prime genuses that were lucky enough to find a secluded place in the open soil or oceans of Deo, the majority either disappeared in totality or were weeded out so only the most fit would survive the ruthless competition of life. To see the survival of their offspring, these beings had to evolve past the point of their adversaries, who in turn had to evolve, and so on. Each generation, cunning intellect was amplified and what were almost automaton-like corpuscles had become in the turning of lapses species of such crafty wickedness. These higher genuses, the Golosroc, which are often thought of as the most developed forms of rootlife ever to exist, deemed that for their superior state, only the flesh of active predatory rootlife would satisfy their growing bodies’ and minds’ needs.

In what is seen as good fortune, these little-known higher forms of rootlife genus disappeared from Deo in the beginning of the lushian lapse. Perhaps the climate gradually became too heavy, or their newlyfound diet was so constricted that they simply weren’t able to sustain themselves. Whatever the case, it seems that the First Men came into existence from those species that chose propagation over predatory insincts and selfish prolongation of an individual life. As much as SOME contemporary ”seekers” would like to believe that Men are the superior, most developed species ever to walk the surface of Deo, this theory reeks of self-conceit. In some ways, yes, our corpuscles outlived those of the Golosroc, in their relatively similar form, but that may as well be a fluke of luck and good circumstances in the proto-lushian lapses. There absolutely exists NO empyrean proof of our ”victory” over them, other than our continued existence, which in itself proves nothing. After all, one would not make the claim that vegetatious rootlife was in any way superior in complexity to the Golosroc, yet they may outlast even us.


Chronogeology: First Men

for educative purposes by the esteemed Catz Seeker Society

Civilization as we aknowledge it arose in what is known today as the region of Lereina in the eastern province. How or why sentience was achieved is unknown, but what is known, is that the First Men descended from a species of plain-dwellers who moved in sparse packs and suckled the acrid saps of lushian clamlike rootlife with their nimble hands from pockets of soil. They discovered the gas taps, and were able to produce fire for warmth to survive the mirk. In ways, heightened intelligence is attributed not to our making, but of the clamlike critters of that lapse, used for sustenance, which happened to be highly concentrated with favourable corpuscle combinations and nutrients. For their misfortune, the delicious clam was hunted to extinction, but not before their flesh had given us the gift of sentience and a constant hunger for the condensed nutrient.

The First Men lived in huts made of stool, captured the clam with terkhite tethers and defended their packs with primitive marrow edges. A few reliquary toolworks and attempts at religious art of the time have been discovered, which have hinted that the First Men resorted to cannibalism at times. It is likely that once the concept of territorial possession came into being, the Men began to form distinct ”tribes” and feed on their rivals when possible. This contesting further advanced the development of intelligence and lead Man slowly from the age of tribal existence into a complex civilization with trade between tribes that later became citystates. This process is estimated to have taken from fifteen to twenty thousand lapses, until the beginning of recorded history and of the Dynasties.

Second Men are often atitled to being the the first true Dynasty. Spoken language had taken it’s modern form by then, and workings to create a unified written glyph-based system was commenced by the nomadic priests of the religion that is nowdays known as Octedactism. As before the Dynasty, recording of history was done with crude drawings or by the language of song {a procedure which made history highly mutable and vulnerable to constant debate, as we have seen}. It should be noted that the Dynasty’s people were allegedly moderated by nine heroic figures of myth, and that the mytho-poetic stories they appeared in were revered. The largest citystates of that time: Rasheri, Octiantia and Annul, all located on the isle Acnahav, where the city of Catz now presides, were waging constant war between eachother, until Octus I, the ruler of Octiantia Empire, managed to unify the citystates under one banner. From henceforth, for more than four hundred lapses, the rule of law was at the hands his descendants, and this is known as the time of Dynasties. During this prolonged period of time, several conquests to neighboring continents were made. The Ninth Dynasty eventually collapsed on itself due to revolting and public unrest of it’s citizens, crumbling down the Octiantia empire and bloodline, built literally on the corpses of hundreds of thousands of slaves and opposers of the Dynasty. Some monuments of this time still remain built into terkhite, the most famous of them being the Catz Royal Palace and the Colossus of Provinces, which have somehow survived through the lapses unharmed; standing as the silent reminders of the advanced civilization and the eventual ruin of the Second Men of Deo.

Chronogeology: Gnosis

for educative purposes by the esteemed Catz Seeker Society

For many lapses after the fall of the Ninth Dynasty in the 445th lapse, The old infrastructure gone, former Men of the Empire were disarranged and wandered without purpose or guidance, riddled by pestilences, famines and squalor. This age is known as the Dreug, or the Mirk-age; it took Men more than two hundred lapses to create a unified deoist authority again. Feodalistic states and various forces arose and fell during the Dreug, but none withstood the test of time save one: the Octedact Cult had persevered the Fall of the Ninth Dynasty, and preached their understanding of the verses, gaining favor and followers by tens of thousands. In the 662th lapse, the Dreug ends. The promised city of the Octedact Cult, Catz, is besieged and occupied by the self-proclaimed warrior king Rodoril of Chuun and his invincible armies. Rodoril converts to Octedactism, and assumes his divine name of Octus XXII, and attempts to found the Dynasty he so admires anew. His plans are buried along with him, after an assassination by the Orohara, an enigmatic sect of former soldiers of fortune, and while his meekly heir, Octus XXIII attempts to keep the recently re-assembled Octedactia Empire in control, he fast falls under the sway of the Polyarchy, a gathering of powerful mystics and alchemists, and is silently dethroned soon after.

The Polyarchy, comprising of eight individuals of immense power, institute a contentious power equilibrium-system based on the possession of Ibin baubles, artefacts of immeasurable value, and rule the ever-expanding city of Catz from that day hence. They establish a caste system for nobility, workers and slaves; all the Men of Catz, and a method of investigation never before utilized in the verses called Cissomatic Gnosis, the rational inquiry. In fifty lapses, Catz, hastened with the rivalry of the belligerent alchemists makes considerable advances in gnosist disciplines, discovers mellow ether and unravels the essence of rootlife and it’s building blocks, the corpuscles. The alchemists devise that through cumulative growing of lateral protrusions, prefatory corpuscles can be birthed from the hereditary tissue of a recently deceaced carrion, then weaved into whatever motes are required. This discovery leads to a high knowledge of abitofugal alchemy {the tampering of the corpuscules of living tissue}, the sub-cellular manipulation of rootlife. The face of Deo is forever altered, as rootlife can now be created upon whim to suit whatever needs the industry has. In the coming years, the architecture and economic system of Catz and it’s native isle of Acnahav is proliferated, its many citizens lifted from their toil instead focus on mental matters like theory, mathematics, rootweaving, concoctions, mercantile, sports and arts of various kind.

In the 702th lapse, the invasive cultures of the sub-men of Chuun and Old Sumat grow to envy the riches and wonders of Catz, and ally to pillage the grand city. Softened by their easy life, the Catzians turn to their sovereign rulers for aid when the largest armies ever assembled sail to bring about war to their isle of Acnahav. The Polyarchy, in their corpuscle vats, brews a mighty weapon of colossal consequences, and sinks the whole fleet of Chuun, and forces Old Sumat Empire to flee to their native southern deserts, an event known as the ”Overturn”. The Polyarchy thus realized they cannot merely sit idle in thought throughout history, Deo revolves constantly around Catz, and time will leave one behind if it’s ordeal by fire cannot be met. In the 705th lapse, the Doctrine of Dominance is put into effect, and the Conciliator-caste trained: a special division of agents capable of diffusing any politically flammable situation and uphold the interests of Catz in foreign lands. Numerous such agents are sent in each of Chuun, Old Sumat, Lereina, Odessa and Rurkh, and some left to safeguard Catz against further alien incursions. It would seem that the Conciliators have succeeded in their challenging task, for there has been no further aggressions in fifteen consequent lapses since, and although the threat of war looms constantly over us, we may always turn on our polyarchic masters to save us.


Know Your Rulers

An encodium; by Ronic, Grand Steward of the Royal Dynastic Palace

To avoid awkward situations and to promote common knowledge, this advisory is prepared for those of the nobility new or oblivious to social situations of this scope, or not wholly familiar with the intricate ethics and code of conduct expected in the presence of our praised polyarchic lords and masters. One should take great care when occupying the concecrated house of our just administration. Whatever your disposition, please peruse this pamphlet with diligent acuity.

The most exalted D’Myad, our sovereign demigod ruler, patron saint to the nobility caste, staunch scion of the Carnality ideal, the endower of eternal life and speaker to the polyarchy for eight consequtive lapses is housed with his followers at the ventricles of the divine triangle, and the adjacent chambers. Master D’Myad has in His wisdom informed us that only reserved guests should attend Him during this stay. For compliments and relevant annotations, please see to his chief of public matters, Ser Lozlock, who can be located in the entry hall for the ventricles.

Master Fundame, Seeker extraordinaire, lately known for His astonishing feats on the field of abitofugal alchemy, will reside in the eastern wing of the palace during His stay, and will bring with Him His fledgling ward, the lovely heiress to godhood, maiden Nubilca, for whom we all have high hopes for. Ser Fundame has likewise announced that under no circumstances should His privacy be invaded during this lapse’s assembly, and wishes that all praisal and input be directed to His aide, Ser Erebar, who you will most likely chance at the evening ball.

The third of his royal line, arch-sage Tezsir of Lokebund deserves no less acclaim for His vast sagacity than His peers. As the founder and father of the sub-pressure -method, the author of the unified particla schema and esteemed dean of the Seeker Society of Catz, His accomplisments are numerous. Master Tezsir, in His graciousness welcomes all royal guests of honor and good disposition to inspect the latest creation of his genius, the reservoir-acceleration apparatus, which will be at display in His quarters of Clear Vision, in the southeastern sanctums of the palace.

Our dear deacon of discomfort, the curate of dolority, the paragon of pain and suffering, Master Martyr and his loyal proponents have reserved for their meditations the idyllic Pavilions of Ponderation, that can be found under clear sky on the rear of the Palace. Ser Arturro, Master Martyr’s attendant, informs us that the gathering shall receive all to share the wondrous sensations and learn more of His Violator ideal.

The mysterious, the fascinating, the bewildering Arc-Ran and His Preciteran warriors of logic will stay at our Palace’s domed luxury turret, where they will accept the attendance of invited guests for exhilarating philosophical debates on the ideal of Now and Then and other matters. Master Arc-Ran and his candidates have explicitly asked us to abstain from listing the achievements of Him, and we shall comply with heartfelt relief and gaiety, for the list would certainly have no end to it!

Master Mu, the patron saint of the meek and feeble, the caring altruist and shield of hope for Catz, earnest spokesperson to those of the ideal of Indulgence has once again, to the mirth of us, brought with Him his gallant chosen straight from the hellish abyss they drudge in, so that we may never forget the horrors these valiant men and their kin face for the good of all of us. May their sacrifice be forever remembered and preserved in records of history for the generations to come. As is their lapsal custom which we have come to admire greatly, Master Mu and His aficionado have chosen for their keep the Royal Barracks, located beyond the pavilions; and have in their generosity offered once again to receive anyone to their humble dwelling to receive guidance unfaltered by pride.

The high-operator of the incredible floating furnaces and main instructor of the Artisan ideal, Master Mechanus has deemed it wise on this occasion to don a magnificient suit of crystal lens and of impenetrable Godsweave, and what an inspiring sight He is! For those of us with the acumen to bask in His presence, Master Mechanus shall answer any questions through His trusted calliper interpreter and aide, Ser Larle, and is to be found in His desired quarters of Octavian Overlook, in the northeastern segment.

A listing of esteemed Seekers would not be compleat without the mention of the eulogized Master Sion, first Seeker to end all pursuit of knowledge by way of utter omniscience. For those preparing for an audience: expect a delay, for we expect royalty to flock to Him in frantic search for answers, as with previous lapses. Yet His patience and kindness is great, for Master Sion has vowed not to turn a soul from His sight if proper inquiries are made to Him. He has informed us that He is to be found at the ball during the assembly evening, entertaining the royalty with His cheerful demeanor and infinite wisdom.

The False Goddess

The account of Octedact bishop Kher-Ben on the Faux-Nubilca of Seeker Fundame; 715th lapse, Jyhad cycle

Sacrilege! Preposterous aspersion of our sacred divine deity! I, for one, denounce all of my most devout faith and commitment if such an abomination is canonized into our good Octus! Burned, bashed and ripped to pieces by a rabid swarm of wild skeets such as it should be, for it is a travesty and abhorrence of the virtues our goddess represents! With black magicks this Fundame-villain has managed to bake into existence a horrible mockery of the concious Man, and taught it with barnacle treats to imitate the preconditions of sentience. It is an APE at the absolute most, much alike that obtuse pleasure puppet our perverse Speaker keeps in his leash to empty his sacks in!

As if the sins of the knaves were not enough as it was, the cur has the NERVE to dispatch his minion to burgle and purloin the untouchable remains of beloved Nubilca. And he took a good portion of the sacred meat too! Such HUBRIS! Let it be known that this INSULT shall not go unremembered, nor unpunished! That thing which claims it is of divine origin speaks with words of treason and heresy of the highest degree, and should be put to death without hesitation!

The Lure of Manure

by Cuom Corgh, ex-sediment-expert;

Watch out sloop, you just stepped on a pile of shit! Now you’re thinking, ”No, I don’t believe I did.”, Well, Ser, Yes you did! You see, we live in a world of excretement, that is to say: Shit! All matter around us was once digested by some repugnant critter of the foggy past of our beloved Deo, and promptly shat out to be the feast of another poor bastard soon after! It’s disgusting, *I* know. Having served as the sediment-expert for more than ten lapses in the dreadful abyss that was Pyria Terkhite Mine, I can say that nothing in the verses can compare to the realization you’ve always *been* shit, soaked in shit all along!

Well, you might think next that it’s not so bad. Shit is a natural part of life and if we must see, touch, smell, feed on, drink and wash ourselves with it, then so be it. I mean, all is polished up by some artisan somewhere so I don’t actually have to mold it with mine own hands. Sloop, I’ve got a surprise for you! Think it stops there? You think??? Of course not! You also BREATHE shit every time you inhale! That gas you seep is what rooters shit out, just to laugh at you sniffing their foams of crap!

During one of our countless dung excavations, we found a nice concentration of... you guessed it: shit. Turned out some of the high-hinks from the seekers could tell things from this massive dookie we’d hauled up. There was a time in the past when shitters were critters of simplicity, but still possessed a degree of brain activity. They figured: ”the world is dying, only small skinbreathers can live in this wretched place, a vital component is missing, we must become the shit that lunged shitters can sustain themselved with, so they can become bigger and complex”. So they all sacrificed themselves in an exertive defecation event to shit out their nutrients as the air that we breathe. Simply put: that air you’re breathing is a composition of fart and miniscule pieces of turd like everything else.

It’s rather sweet, actually, that they gave their filthy lives for us to have a shot at this lavatory life, but at the edge of the mirk it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still just the same old shit!

Death of a Pilgrim

Overscribe Logurkh is believed to have superimposed his name onto this ”didactic fable” which, according to historians for many lapses predates his very existence. Assumed true author of this recitation is Marcussos, missionary pastor of the Ruhrk colony during the thirtyninth lapse of Dreug;

Thirty days and thirty mirks, beloved Nubilca curse me weak, I could not take the scorching heat for a cycle longer. And the noises, they pestered me to the very brink: for heaven knows it, I was starving for sustenance. The boat of supplies that had come until now every third cycle to bring me rations from civilized lands was two cycles at missing. Many days ago I had abandoned hope, and had engaged in fervent panegyric rites of our goddess most holy and the sacred father Octus, so that in absense of deoan sustenance, they would bestow me with hallow aliment to fight off the despair and loneliness of my desolate shack. In my daily moment of weakness, I harbored thoughts of submitting to the next deluge, which my tattered almanac indicated was in the coming.

One edge of mirk I was at the barren shore, scrounging the well-scoured sands for tiny beetles that had for days eluded my trembling fingers, when I heard their ruckus yet again. Beyond the shallow ocean stream that separated my isle from the mainland they were at it again: the sadistic savages of hedony. Back in Octiantia convent, I was instructed specifically not to interact with this atavistic tribe, for their ways were violent and many a pilgrim had perished as the head course of their cannibalistic feasts, but I had detected no presence of other tribes here either, so who was I preaching to?

These ape-men, who were dark as mirkhud on the Yog-cycle once again commenced their daily ritual of torment: they began to devour meals of large proportion right in the full view of I; shells of juicy hopper meat, whole nests of insects drowned in wine marinade and fried to crispy treats, enormous jars of honey-glazed berries... All I could do to resist the urge to join them in the eternal darkness of sin was to genuflect helplessly the sacred rites of denial until mirk came and the savages were once again gone. To what daemonic end they beleaguered me thus, my befuddled mind could not fathom.

That mirk, I dreamed: I was at the feast with the savages, but I could see with incredible clarity my err: these savages had gentle souls that shone with virtue; their earnest intention was to feed my feeble frame, for they pitied me. I ate ravenously, participated in their merry rejoicing and copulated fiercely with a nubile maiden as dark as mirk, yet soft and warm as Nubilca’s caress. Strangely revitalized, I woke up to peer through my shack window to the mainland, to once again spy a cadre of wild folk yonder across the stream in their preparations. I hastily performed the rite of dream-penitence for my sins of imagination, for such were intolerable for a pilgrim of the Cult to commit, let alone perpetrate in flesh. A sin of such severity would demand no less than an immediate rite of self-submergence.

I once again skulked to the yard of my isle in hope of catching sight in the horizon of the overdue provision vessel, and consequently to the view of the savages, who, to my utter horror greeted me with inconvenient geniality! A mad dash back to the shack, I curled up into a ball of human flesh, and cried.

Today, I wait only for the deluge.