Of the shining city of Lucetta—How Dr. Van Varken met an apparent Yahoo—Of the great astonishment of the citizens at sight of the Doctor, and how they gave him in charge to a committee of three—How the committee learned the Dutch tongue, and showed the Doctor sundry strange and wonderful maps. On recovering consciousness I found myself lying on what felt like soft grass on the steep side of a mountain. The sky was intensely dark, no stars were visible, and, of course, there was no moon. Before me, at a considerably lower elevation, and, as well as I could judge, at a distance of four or five miles, I saw what had the appearance of a very brilliantly illuminated city; the illumination was such as no artificial light known on earth could approach in splendour. So strong was it, that even at the distance of the place where I was sitting its effect was quite visible in lighting the hill. In front of the city was a large sheet of water, and on it were many moving bodies, probably ships, all of them lighted with the same strange radiance which pervaded the city. I looked at my watch, and, as might have been expected, I found that it still marked thirty-seven minutes past ten. I had stupidly forgotten that, during disintegration, the machinery could not have worked, so I was unable to verify my computation of the time required for the transit. The mercury in the thermometer quickly moved up to eighty-six degrees. I judged it best to stay where I was till daylight, especially as I saw some traces of dawn appearing in a quarter of the sky which I hence concluded to be the east. I awaited the coming day with great eagerness, and, I admit, with some anxiety, for it would be hard to say what reception I might meet with. This much was plain—the planet was not destitute of some forms of life, and I had escaped the detestable Yahoos. But, as the reader will soon learn, my conclusion was over-hasty. As the light gradually increased I began to make out at first the main features, and soon the minuter details of the landscape. The sloping ground on which I had landed formed the base of a high mountain. Dense forests concealed the summit; the lower part, on which I was sitting, was covered with soft short grass, and trees, most of them bearing some sort of fruit, were here and there scattered about. A few yards below me the steepness of the slope eased off into a gentle descent, and the mountain finally terminated on the shore of a deep bay of clear and still water. At the end of this bay lay the city which shone so brightly in the night; it was about five miles from my landing-place, and, as I afterwards learned, was called Lucetta. The opposite shore of the bay, which was nearly ten miles wide, was occupied by a lofty range of peaked mountains. The temperature was high, but by no means intolerable, and the air was perfectly still.