They had scarcely left the shore when they were involved in a fog of unprecedented density, so that they could not see one another; but they heard the dash of Mr. Mystic’s oars, and were consoled by his assurances that he could not miss his way in a state of the atmosphere so consentaneous to his peculiar mode of vision; for that, though, in navigating his little skiff on the _Ocean of Deceitful Form_, he had very often wandered wide and far from the _Island of Pure Intelligence_, yet this had always happened when he went with his eyes open, in broad daylight; but that he had soon found the means of obviating this little inconvenience, by always keeping his eyes close shut whenever the sun had the impertinence to shine upon him. He immediately added that he would take the opportunity of making a remark perfectly in point: ‘that Experience was a Cyclops, with his eye in the back of his head’; and when Mr. Fax remarked that he did not see the connection, Mr. Mystic said he was very glad to hear it; for he should be sorry if any one but himself could see the connection of his ideas, as he arranged his thoughts _on a new principle_. They went steadily on through the dense and heavy air, over waters that slumbered like the Stygian pool; a chorus of frogs, that seemed as much delighted with their own melody as if they had been an oligarchy of poetical critics, regaling them all the way with the Aristophanic symphony of BREK-EK-EK-EX! KO-AX! KO-AX![81] till the boat fixed its keel in the _Island of Pure Intelligence_; and Mr. Mystic landed his party, as Charon did Aeneas and the Sibyl, in a bed of weeds and mud:[82] after floundering in which for some time, from losing their guide in the fog, they were cheered by the sound of his voice from above, and scrambling up the bank, found themselves on a hard and barren rock; and, still following the sound of Mr. Mystic’s voice, arrived at Cimmerian Lodge. The fog had penetrated into all the apartments: there was fog in the hall, fog in the parlour, fog on the staircases, fog in the bedrooms; The fog was here, the fog was there, The fog was all around. It was a little rarefied in the kitchen, by virtue of the enormous fire; so far, at least, that the red face of the cook shone through it, as they passed the kitchen door, like the disk of the rising moon through the vapours of an autumnal river: but to make amends for this, it was condensed almost into solidity in the library, where the voice of their invisible guide bade them welcome to the _adytum_ of the LUMINOUS OBSCURE. Mr. Mystic now produced what he called his _synthetical torch_, and requested them to follow him, and look over his grounds. Mr. Fax said it was perfectly useless to attempt it in such a state of the atmosphere; but Mr. Mystic protested that it was the only state of the atmosphere in which they could be seen to advantage; as daylight and sunshine utterly destroyed their beauty.