experience. When they had reached the summit of the eminence now known
as Russian Hill, an exclamation again burst from the Padre. The stranger
turned to his companion with an impatient gesture; but the Padre heeded
him not. The view that burst upon his sight was such as might well have
engrossed the attention of a more enthusiastic temperament. The fog
had not yet reached the hill, and the long valleys and hillsides of the
embarcadero below were glittering with the light of a populous
city. "Look!" said the Padre, stretching his hand over the spreading
landscape. "Look, dost thou not see the stately squares and brilliantly
lighted avenues of a mighty metropolis. Dost thou not see, as it were,
another firmament below?"
"Avast heaving, reverend man, and quit this folly," said the strange;
dragging the bewildered Padre after him. "Behold rather the stars
knocked out of thy hollow noddle by the fall thou hast had. Prithee, get
over thy visions and rhapsodies, for the time is wearing apace."
The Padre humbly followed without another word. Descending the hill
toward the north, the stranger leading the way, in a few moments the
Padre detected the wash of waves, and presently his feet struck the
firmer sand of the beach. Here the stranger paused, and the Padre
perceived a boat lying in readiness hard by. As he stepped into the
stern sheets, in obedience to the command of his companion, he noticed
that the rowers seemed to partake of the misty incorporeal texture of
his companion, a similarity that became the more distressing when he
perceived also that their oars in pulling together made no noise. The
stranger, assuming the helm, guided the boat on quietly, while the fog,
settling over the face of the water and closing around them, seemed to
interpose a muffled wall between themselves and the rude jarring of
the outer world. As they pushed further into this penetralia, the Padre
listened anxiously for the sound of creaking blocks and the rattling of
cordage, but no vibration broke the veiled stillness or disturbed the
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