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THE UNPARALLELED ADVENTURES OF ONE HANS PFAAL (*1)
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By late accounts from Rotterdam, that city seems to be in a high
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state of philosophical excitement. Indeed, phenomena have there
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occurred of a nature so completely unexpected—so entirely
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novel—so utterly at variance with preconceived opinions—as to
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leave no doubt on my mind that long ere this all Europe is in an
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uproar, all physics in a ferment, all reason and astronomy
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together by the ears.
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It appears that on the—— day of—— (I am not positive about the
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date), a vast crowd of people, for purposes not specifically
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mentioned, were assembled in the great square of the Exchange in
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the well-conditioned city of Rotterdam. The day was
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warm—unusually so for the season—there was hardly a breath of air
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stirring; and the multitude were in no bad humor at being now and
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then besprinkled with friendly showers of momentary duration,
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that fell from large white masses of cloud which chequered in a
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fitful manner the blue vault of the firmament. Nevertheless,
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about noon, a slight but remarkable agitation became apparent in
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the assembly: the clattering of ten thousand tongues succeeded;
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and, in an instant afterward, ten thousand faces were upturned
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toward the heavens, ten thousand pipes descended simultaneously
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from the corners of ten thousand mouths, and a shout, which could
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be compared to nothing but the roaring of Niagara, resounded
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long, loudly, and furiously, through all the environs of
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Rotterdam.
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The origin of this hubbub soon became sufficiently evident. From
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behind the huge bulk of one of those sharply-defined masses of
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cloud already mentioned, was seen slowly to emerge into an open
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area of blue space, a queer, heterogeneous, but apparently solid
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substance, so oddly shaped, so whimsically put together, as not
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to be in any manner comprehended, and never to be sufficiently
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admired, by the host of sturdy burghers who stood open-mouthed
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below. What could it be? In the name of all the vrows and devils
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in Rotterdam, what could it possibly portend? No one knew, no one
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could imagine; no one—not even the burgomaster Mynheer Superbus
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Von Underduk—had the slightest clew by which to unravel the
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mystery; so, as nothing more reasonable could be done, every one
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to a man replaced his pipe carefully in the corner of his mouth,
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and cocking up his right eye towards the phenomenon, puffed,
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paused, waddled about, and grunted significantly—then waddled
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back, grunted, paused, and finally—puffed again.
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In the meantime, however, lower and still lower toward the goodly
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city, came the object of so much curiosity, and the cause of so
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much smoke. In a very few minutes it arrived near enough to be
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accurately discerned. It appeared to be—yes! it was undoubtedly a
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species of balloon; but surely no such balloon had ever been seen
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in Rotterdam before. For who, let me ask, ever heard of a balloon
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manufactured entirely of dirty newspapers? No man in Holland
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certainly; yet here, under the very noses of the people, or
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rather at some distance above their noses was the identical thing
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in question, and composed, I have it on the best authority, of
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the precise material which no one had ever before known to be
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used for a similar purpose. It was an egregious insult to the
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good sense of the burghers of Rotterdam. As to the shape of the
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phenomenon, it was even still more reprehensible. Being little or
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nothing better than a huge foolscap turned upside down. And this
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similitude was regarded as by no means lessened when, upon nearer
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inspection, there was perceived a large tassel depending from its
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apex, and, around the upper rim or base of the cone, a circle of
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little instruments, resembling sheep-bells, which kept up a
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continual tinkling to the tune of Betty Martin. But still worse.
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Suspended by blue ribbons to the end of this fantastic machine,
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there hung, by way of car, an enormous drab beaver hat, with a
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brim superlatively broad, and a hemispherical crown with a black
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band and a silver buckle. It is, however, somewhat remarkable
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that many citizens of Rotterdam swore to having seen the same hat
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repeatedly before; and indeed the whole assembly seemed to regard
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it with eyes of familiarity; while the vrow Grettel Pfaall, upon
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sight of it, uttered an exclamation of joyful surprise, and
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declared it to be the identical hat of her good man himself. Now
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this was a circumstance the more to be observed, as Pfaall, with
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three companions, had actually disappeared from Rotterdam about
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five years before, in a very sudden and unaccountable manner, and
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up to the date of this narrative all attempts had failed of
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obtaining any intelligence concerning them whatsoever. To be
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sure, some bones which were thought to be human, mixed up with a
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quantity of odd-looking rubbish, had been lately discovered in a
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retired situation to the east of Rotterdam, and some people went
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so far as to imagine that in this spot a foul murder had been
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committed, and that the sufferers were in all probability Hans
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Pfaall and his associates. But to return.
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The balloon (for such no doubt it was) had now descended to
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within a hundred feet of the earth, allowing the crowd below a
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sufficiently distinct view of the person of its occupant. This
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was in truth a very droll little somebody. He could not have been
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more than two feet in height; but this altitude, little as it
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was, would have been sufficient to destroy his equilibrium, and
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tilt him over the edge of his tiny car, but for the intervention
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of a circular rim reaching as high as the breast, and rigged on
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to the cords of the balloon. The body of the little man was more
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than proportionately broad, giving to his entire figure a
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rotundity highly absurd. His feet, of course, could not be seen
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at all, although a horny substance of suspicious nature was
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occasionally protruded through a rent in the bottom of the car,
|
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