A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder James De Mille

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and courteous offices. Everyone was always eager to do anything for
us--to give, to go, to act, to speak, as though we were the most
honored of guests, the pride of the city. The Kohen was untiring in
his efforts to please. He was in the habit of making presents every
time he came to see me, and on each occasion the present was of a
different kind; at one time it was a new robe of curiously wrought
feathers, at another some beautiful gem, at another some rare fruit.
He also made incessant efforts to render my situation pleasant, and
was delighted at my rapid progress in acquiring the language.
On the jom following the sacrifice I accompanied Almah as she went
to her daily task, and after it was over I asked when the new victims
would be placed here. "How long does it take to embalm them?" I added.
Almah looked at me earnestly. "They will not bring them here; they
will not embalm them," said she.
"Why not?" I asked; "what will they do with them?"
"Do not ask," said she. "It will pain you to know."
In spite of repeated solicitation she refused to give me any
satisfaction. I felt deeply moved at her words and her looks. What was
it, I wondered, that could give me pain? or what could there still
be that could excite fear in me, who had learned and seen so much? I
could not imagine. It was evidently some disposal of the bodies of
the victims--that was plain. Turning this over in my mind, with vague
conjectures as to Almah's meaning, I left her and walked along the
terrace until I came to the next cavern. This had never been open
before, and I now entered through curiosity to see what it might be.
I saw a vast cavern, quite as large as the cheder nebilin, full of
people, who seemed to be engaged in decorating it. Hundreds were at
work, and they had brought immense tree-ferns, which were placed on
either side in long rows, with their branches meeting and interlacing
at the top. It looked like the interior of some great Gothic cathedral
at night, and the few twinkling lights that were scattered here and
there made the shadowy outline just visible to me.
I asked one of the bystanders what this might be, and he told me that
it was the Mista Kosek, which means the "Feast of Darkness," from
which I gathered that they were about to celebrate the advent of the