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Marryat, Frederick, 1792-1848

"The Pacha of Many Tales"


I could discern what appeared to be the habitations of men on different
parts of the lake; but there was not a tree or a shrub to be seen.
"What," demanded I of the man who appeared to take the lead of the rest
of the party, "have you no trees here?"
"None whatever; and yet we can do very well without them. Do you not
observe that there is no mould; that the island is composed entirely of
pumice stone?"
"I do," replied I. "Pray what is the name of your barren spot--and in
what part of the world are we?"
"As for its name, we call it Whale Island," replied the man; "but as
for where we are, we cannot exactly tell ourselves, for we are a
floating island, being composed entirely of pumice stone, whose specific
gravity, as you must know, is much lighter than that of water."
"How strange," observed I; "I cannot believe that you are in earnest."
"And yet not quite so strange as you imagine," replied my conductor. "If
you examine the structure of this island, from where you now stand, you
will perceive at once, that it has been the crater of some large
volcano. It is easy to imagine, that after having reared its head above
the surface of the sea, by some of those sudden caprices of ever-working
nature, the base has again sunk down, leaving the summit of the crater
floating on the ocean. Such is our opinion of the formation of this
island; and I doubt whether your geologists on the continent would
produce a more satisfactory theory."
"What? you have communicated with Europe, then?" cried I, delighted at
the hopes of return.


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