“The conscious exchange of thought without words, he tells me, marks their advancement in communication—perhaps somewhat as the wireless interchange of words marks ours. Their progress has been along different lines it seems. The Prince and his sister, the Princess of the Lilied Hills, whose domain lies beyond this, bid us welcome. Your thought, however, he does not reach as yet, except through me, and this requires a double or repeated process, somewhat like translation.” “Well,” muttered Gale, “I’m rather glad of that. I want to have a few thinks all to myself when I’m in a new place and seeing things.” The Prince now said something further to Ferratoni, and then with his suite set off up the bank. “Their boats are just above,” the latter explained. “We are to overtake them, and all proceed up the river together.” Around a little bend we found them waiting for us. They had two barges, long, graceful and beautiful, similar to the canoe of the American Indian in shape, but propelled by slender oars in the hands of tall, youthful oarsmen of bare arms and heads, and fair, smooth faces. Near the center of each craft there was a sail of the simplest banner form, white but embroidered with the blue flower of the Prince’s domain. Truly they seemed to us as an integral part of the world about them. Mr. Sturritt, who had hitherto remained silent, leaned over to me and murmured: “Look—er—at them, and—and then at us. We’re not very—that is—attractive, while they—why it’s just as if they were condensed—I should say—er—materialized, as it were, from the elements.” And Chauncey Gale: “Better food than tablets, just to look at them, eh, Bill?” “Sustenance for the soul,” said Ferratoni. XXVIII. A HARBOR OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS. Oct. 5. For seven days we have ascended this silent, flowing river, and to-night we rest in the palace of the Prince. At least we call him the Prince, though Ferratoni has explained to us that the word hardly carries the thought as conveyed to him. One whom the others follow and emulate, he thinks would be more exact, but this would mean prince, too, in our acceptation of the word, and so “Prince” he has become to us, and we would not wish for a better title for this fair serene youth, whose unvexed spirit and gentle sway of those about him have wrought a spell upon us all. We have enjoyed his bounteous hospitality, and often he has traveled in our boat, conversing with Ferratoni, who has translated to us. I have made no previous record, as I desired first to get some definite impression of this new-found country and its people. What their impression of us has been it would not be easy to say.