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We present Bernard Horsfall as Harry Lawson and Jeffrey Banks as Professor Van Hard begins A Journey to the center of the Earth. The novel by Jules Verne, adapted to radio in eight parts by Howard Jones. Part One. The Great Discovery. Looking back to all that has happened to me since that eventful day, I can scarcely believe in the reality of my adventures. They were truly so wonderful that even now I am bewildered when I think of them. But first I must introduce myself. My name is Harry Lawson. I'm English. My uncle, professor von Hardwig, is German. He married my mother's sister, an Englishwoman at the time I am speaking of, he was a man of about 50, tall, thin and wiry, with spectacles and big, protruding eyes. Being fond of me, he had invited me to study under him at his house in the Konigstrasse in Hamburg. And this delighted me. For although impetuous and eccentric, my uncle is a scholarly and wealthy man, a professor of philosophy, chemistry, geology, mineralogy and many other ologies. Also, although it has nothing to do with my story, I was in love with his goddaughter, Gretchen. Well, one day my uncle returned from a solitary walk in a tearing hurry, flung back the front door and shouted.
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At the top of his voice, harry. Harry, where are you? Harry.
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Coming, uncle, coming. What's all the excitement?
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Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. Harry, this book I have just bought looks pretty old. What is it? Heinz Kringler of Snorri Sturluson, the celebrated Icelandic author of the 12th century. It is a true and correct account of the Norwegian princess who reigned in Iceland. Dear me.
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What language is it written in, Uncle?
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It is a runic manuscript, the language of the original population of Iceland, invented, so the tradition says, by Odin himself.
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I was about to venture some misplaced joke on the subject when a small scrap of parchment fell from the leaves of the book. It was about 5 inches by 3 and scrawled over in the most extraordinary fashion, like a hungry man snatching at a morsel of bread. The professor seized it, told me to sit down and write.
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Are you ready?
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Yes, Uncle.
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And follow closely. I will substitute a letter of our Alphabet for that of the runic on the parchment, and we will see what that produces. Now begin, and I'll make no mistakes. M, R, R, L, L, S, E, F, R, U, S, E, O, B, O, K, E, D, I, I, I. That will do, Harry. H. This puts me in mind of a cryptograph unless the letters have been written down without any meaning. But why do that? Who knows? I. I may be on the verge of some crude discovery.
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Uncle, I scarcely think.
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It seems likely that this parchment was written by some owner of the book. Perhaps he wrote his name in the book. Now, what is this on the fly leaf? Is it a blot of ink or. Ah.
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Ne. Sacnusem.
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Ah. No, Sacnum. The name of a learned Icelandic professor of the 16th century. A celebrated alchemist. At one time he was the owner of this book. He wrote his name here. These alchemists, Abyssinia, Bacon, Rooney, Pard, Celtus. They were the true. The only learned men of their day. They made astonishing discoveries. My boy, may not this sacnoson have hidden on this piece of parchment the secret of some astounding discovery? Possibly.
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But why conceal it if it was a useful and worthy discovery?
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Did not Galileo make a secret of his discoveries in connection with the planet Sappho? But we shall see. We shall see. So until I discover the meaning of this sentence written by Sacnusson, I will neither eat nor sleep, my dear uncle, neither will you. This man Sacknosen was very learned. And like most learned men of the 16th century, he probably wrote in Latin. If my guess is wrong, why, then we must try Spanish, French, Italian, Greek. Yes, or even Hebrew. However, my opinion is decidedly in favor of Latin. We shall probably find that the words are arranged to some mathematical plan. Perhaps one figure is the key to this whole puzzle. Now, Harry, show your English wit. What is that figure?
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I haven't the faintest idea.
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Then let us pick out letters at regular intervals. Take up your pen and start to write. M M, E S S U N.
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A C. When I was done, I could scarcely keep from laughing. I had written down four lines of complete nonsense. So it seemed to me. On the other hand, my uncle.
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What does it mean? What does it mean? Well, it won't defeat me. It won't. It won't. I will find out. That I will. That I will.
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Left to myself, I lit my pipe and dropped into an armchair. I could easily imagine my uncle tearing along some lonely road, gesticulating, talking to himself, cutting the air with his cane, still thinking of the absurd hieroglyphics. Would he hit on some clue and come home in a better mood? I picked up the wretched puddle and tried every imaginable way of grouping the letters. I put them together by twos, threes, fours and fives, all in vain. I pondered and pondered. It was enough to drive a man mad. Mechanically, I took up the piece of parchment and fanned myself with it so that I saw first the front and then the back. Imagine my astonishment when glancing at the back, the ink having penetrated the parchment, I clearly made out Latin words Craterem terrestri.
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It came upon me in a flash. This was the clue. I had discovered the secret.
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All you had to do was to.
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Read the document backwards.
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The ingenious theories of the professor were correct and I, by sheer accident, had discovered what he wanted to know. I placed the parchment on the table. I passed my finger over each letter, I spoke it through, I read it out and. And suddenly I felt as if I had received a knockout blow. Was it possible that a man had.
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Really accomplished this incredible thing? That a man had dared. Never.
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I cried, never shall my uncle learn this secret. He's quite capable of repeating this fearful tyranny. Nothing will stop him.
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Nothing.
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What's more, he'll insist I go with him. I snatched up book and parchment and was about to fling them into the fire when the door opened and. And my uncle came in. I had scarcely time to put the wretched things down before he was at my side. He dropped into his chair and began to make some algebraical calculations. I knew he was wasting his time. I had discovered the clue and I intended to keep it to myself. I did not dare to leave him. And at last I fell asleep on the sofa. When I awoke, it was morning and my uncle was still at work. His red rimmed eyes, his tousled hair and flushed cheeks told me what he was feeling.
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It made me ill to look at.
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Him, so I looked the other way, crossed my arms and smoked, resolved never to betray the secret. When the cook wanted to go out to market, she found the front door locked and the key taken away. Did Professor Hardwick intend the old woman and myself to starve to death? Martyrs of his obstinacy. He continued counting and writing, writing and camping, thinking of neither food nor drink. 12:00'.
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Clock.
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I was famished. There was nothing in the house. Two o'. Clock. I could not bring myself to keeps silent any longer. Uncle, I said. But he didn't hear me.
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Professor Hardwick, how did you speak?
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Uncle. Uncle, I. I have already made an important discovery.
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You have some idea of the meaning of this? Call you Harry?
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Yes, Uncle. Look at the sentence you dictated to me.
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I'm looking. It means nothing.
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Nothing if you read from left to right. But if you read from right to left.
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Backwards. Backwards. Most cunning, Zacharias. What a blockhead I am in Nephos. Your coolis. The meaning of the whole passage in English is Descend into the crater of Yokur of Sniper which the shade of Scartaris caresses before the canons of July. Audacious traveler from human reach the center of the earth. I did it. Army sac to them. Wonderful. What is the time? The time, I say. About 3 o'.
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Clock.
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Let me have something to eat and then get my portmanteau ready.
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What for, uncle?
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Your own portmanteau too? We start at once. Where are we going?
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Going?
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What do you think we are going to follow in the steps of harness shackness Hands?
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That night after dinner, my uncle called me up to his study. We each took a chair on opposite sides of the table.
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It struck me that he was in.
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A particularly good humor.
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Allie, you have rendered me a service.
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Never to be forgotten.
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Without you this wonderful discovery would never have been made. It is my duty therefore to insist on you sharing the glory.
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Glory, uncle.
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True glory. But I must warn you, you must keep the whole affair a profound secret. There is no more envious a race of men than fight scientific discovers. At all events we shall be thrown in the heels.
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I doubt if you'll have many competitors.
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A true scientist would trump at a chance. If this document were once made public, we should find a perfect string of pagans on the tracks of army sack Nusson.
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But isn't this parchment likely to be a hoax?
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No, no, Harry. The book in which we found it is sufficient proof itself of its authenticity.
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Well, I'll admit Satnis and main arithmetic the lines, but he was probably just trying to mystify people. And what's all this about yokel and snuggles and Scartalis? I've never heard of them.
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That's the very point I'm coming to. Not long ago I received a map from my friend Augustus Peterman of Light Sea. Put down the third atlas from the second Sheriff Z Slate four.
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Oh, very well.
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Here is Z place four.
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Is this the one you mean?
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Yes. Now it is one of the finest maps of Iceland. It will settle all your doubts, difficulties and objections. The whole island you see, is composed of volcanoes. And note carefully, they all bear the name of Yokul. It's an Icelandic word. It means a glacier. Most of the high mountains, volcanoes erupt from icebound caverns.
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But what does the word?
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Snapple. Follow my finger to the western coast and there you see Reykjavik, the capital. Follow the direction of one of its innumerable fjords and what you see below the 56 degree of latitude, a peninsula.
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Like a thigh bone in shape.
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And in the center of it a.
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Mountain that is Sniffus.
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Sniffus. A mountain 5,000ft high. One of the Most remarkable in the whole island and destined to become the most celebrated in the world. For through its crater we shall reach the center of the Earth.
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Impossible.
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Why impossible?
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Because the crater is choked with lava and burning rocks.
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And if it be extinct, that would.
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Certainly make a difference.
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I grant you, it certainly would. There are about 300 volcanoes on the whole surface of the globe. But the greater number are extinct. Of these, nessus is only one. It has not erupted since the year 1219.
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Oh, very well, Uncle. But why all this mystery about Skhatalis and the Kalends of July?
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Why, this shows how particular Saknussum is in his directions. The Snethel's mountain has many craters. He is careful to indicate the exact crater which is the high road to the center of the Earth. He tells us that about the end of the month of June the shadow of nearby Mount Kartaris falls upon this one crater. Listen to multimedia.
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Let's suppose that Saknussem is right. He found the entrance to the bowels of the earth. But it's madness to suppose that he or anyone else ever followed up this discovery.
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Why so?
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It's well known that heat increases one degree for every 70ft you descend into the Earth. This gives you a fine idea of the heat at the center. It's so hot that all matter must be in a state of incandescent.
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I care nothing for such theory.
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So hot that rocks must be molten. What would become of us?
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Do not be alarmed at the heat, my boy. My dear uncle, neither you nor anybody else knows anything about the real state of the earth interior. The only way to learn is, like arne sacnusum, to go and see.
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Very well, we go and see. Though how we shall see in the pit's darkness is another mystery.
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Oh, fear nothing. We shall overcome this and many more difficulties and remember not one word to a living soul. Our success depends on secrecy and dispatch. We shall leave for Copenhagen, the first stage of our journey, at tobreak, maybe after tomorrow. Courage, Harry. All will be well.
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We left Hamburg precisely as my uncle had planned, and reaching Copenhagen on the day following, we discovered that a little Danish schooner, the Valkyrie, was to sail on 2 June for Reykjavik. The captain was on board and seemed surprised at the energy and cordiality with which the professor shook his hand. To him, a voyage to Iceland was commonplace. My uncle, on the other hand, considered it an event of sublime importance. The honest sailor took advantage of of the professor's enthusiasm to double our fares. I bore the voyage well, but my uncle, to his great annoyance was dreadfully seasick. This troubled him all the more, since it prevented him from questioning the captain on the subject of Snaefeld. He spent most of the time lying on his bunk, groaning and dwelling hopefully. On the end of the voyage I felt no pity for him. At the end of a fortnight we again cited land.
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Reykjavik.
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My uncle dragged himself from his cabin, haggard and pale, but full of enthusiasm, his eyes shining with pleasure and satisfaction. He led me to the quarter deck, gripped my arm and pointed over the northern part of the bay to a high, twin peaked mountain, a double cone covered with snow.
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Behold. Behold Mount Sniff.
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M. Friedrichson, professor of natural sciences at the College of Reykjavik, to whom my uncle carried letters of introduction, made us welcome. And out of the three rooms which comprised his house, two were placed at our disposal. After dinner on the day of our arrival, the two professors fell into an earnest conversation.
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Well, Herr Frederickson, I. I wonder if, among the valuable books in your library, you have any works of the learned armist Sachnussen? Sachnussen? Master, you speak of one of the most distinguished scholars of the 16th century. Alchemist, naturalist and traveller. Exactly. Have you any of his? One of the most distinguished men connected with Icelandic science and vitroschoe. As you say, sir. Have you any? A man illustrious above all. True, true, true. But his works, sir, his works? He has none. None in ice? None in Iceland or anywhere else. Oh, but. But why not? Because Arus Hacknesson was prosecuted for heresy, and in 1573 his books were publicly burnt in Copenhagen by the common hangman. Splendid, splendid. I. I beg your pardon. Now I understand why Armist Sacnism was forced to hide his magnificent discoveries. Why he was compelled to conceal his great secret with a baffling cryptograph. The secret? What secret do you mean? Oh, no secret. None at all. I was carried away by my enthusiasm. Tell me, Herr Friedrichson, what is that mountain on the horizon? It is Snafeld, sir, one of the most curious volcanoes in existence and yet rarely visited. So then, I have a mind to begin my studies here with an inspection of Mount Sephard. What did you call it? Sneithels, my dear sir. But how do you propose to get there? By boat. Across the bay? It cannot be done. There is not a boat available in Norweichevik. You must go overland along the coast. So then I must have a guide. Of course.
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I know the very man for you.
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A shrewd and worthy fellow who will please you. Can I see him today? No, he cannot be here before tomorrow. I will send for him. Leave it to me, my dear Professor.
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That night I slept soundly. When I awoke in the morning, I heard my uncle speaking in the next room and I dressed hastily and joined him. He was talking earnestly with a man of Herculean build and quick intelligent eyes. A man whose bearing revealed a calm and phlegmatic temperament. My uncle beamed at me.
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Hey, my dear boy. This is Hans Bielke, Used to be our guide.
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How do you do?
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Thank you, I'm well. Hans is a mighty hunter, Harry. A hunter of the hide. A duck. But to revert to our business, Hans, how far is the volcano sniffled from here? 22 miles. Sure, we can be there in two days. No, eight days. Perhaps ten days. I speak of Danish miles. 8,000 paces each. Ah, dear me. Then we must have horses. Oh, thank you. I will not ride a horse. I ride my own feet best. How many horses do you wish?
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Four horses.
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We have baggage and I and Mr. Harry will need a horse each.
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Four horses.
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I will see to this. Good, good.
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Now, as to wages, I will pay.
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You three rix dollars a week. Three rix dollars? I accept. And master, you shall pay me every Saturday night. If you fail, then our agreement is finished.
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Very well.
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Let me pay you now one week in advance. Oh, thank you. No, you'll pay after my work, not before. After. As you say, Hans. I wish to start in 48 hours from now. Can you be ready? 48 hours from now. It is understood. I go now. I go and prepare. Farrell. Farewell. A splendid fellow, eh, Harry? But he little suspects the marvelous part is about to play in the history of exploring.
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You mean that he'll come with us?
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All the way to the center of the earth, my boy, to the center of the earth.
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For the next two days we were busily occupied in packing our instruments, weapons, tools and our provisions. Our instruments briefly were as follows.
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1.
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A thermometer of Aidsel marked to 150 degrees.
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2.
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A manometer, an instrument worked by compressed air to ascertain atmospheric pressure at sea level.
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3.
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A first class chronometer by Wasana object.
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4.
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Two compasses.
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5.
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A night glass. 6. Two Ruhm corpse coils worked by electricity which would supply a first rate portable light. 7. A voltaic battery. Our weapons consisted of two rifles and two six shooter revolvers. Our tools were two pickaxes, two crowbars, a silken ladder, three iron shod poles, a hatchet, a hammer, a dozen wedges, some pointed pieces of iron and a great quantity of strong rope. The hamper of provisions contained enough concentrated meat and biscuit to last us six months. The only drink provided by my uncle was the Holland's gin, called scheidem of water. Not a drop. However, we carried gourds, and my uncle counted on finding water and filling them at the outset of our journey. Finally, we also carried a medical chest, boxes of tinder and tobacco, and a large belt crammed with notes and gold. I shall not dwell on our adventures and misadventures on the journey to Snathos. When we arrived at the village beneath the mountain, Hans hired three Icelanders to replace the horses. It was understood that these men would leave us at the bottom of the crater. When my uncle told Hans that he intended to explore the volcano to the last possible limits, Hans shrugged his shoulders.
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And said, it is all right. Well, you explore, I come, I come. To me it is all the same.
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And so, at last, we started to climb the mountain. Snowfall. 5,000ft high is the termination of a volcanic mountain range. And Hans led the way up its slopes as calmly as if he had been walking over Salisbury Plain. About seven in the evening, we reached a kind of spur, and I felt I could go no further. This was the region of eternal snows. The cold was searching and intense. The wind blew with great violence. Despite his impatience, my uncle decided to call a halt.
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Stop, Hans. We shall stop here. We cannot stop. We must climb higher. Higher. What? Why must we climb to them alive? Look below. It is the Mistour. Come, master, come. Mistour? What's he talking about? There, Harry? There is the Mistour.
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I looked on the plain below. A vast, prodigious volume of pulverized pumice, sand and dust was rising to the heavens in the form of a mighty waterspout. And the wind was driving it directly towards the side of Snaefels, where we were perched.
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That's the Mistour, Harry. If it breaks over us, it will destroy us. Nothing gets more certain. Make haste. Make haste, master. We are coming. Oh, and Harry.
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That was part one of A Journey to the center of the Earth, adapted by Howard James Jones from the novel by Jules Verne. The cast was as follows.
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Harry Lawson was played by Bernard Horsfall.
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Professor von Hartwig by Jeffrey Banks, Professor Friedrichson by Geralt Sheldrup and Hans Bjelke by John Daglish. It was produced in the north of England by Trevor Hill.
Podcast: Harold’s Old Time Radio
Episode Date: February 12, 2026
Adapted by: Howard Jones
From the novel by: Jules Verne
Notable Cast:
This first installment of an eight-part radio adaptation revives Jules Verne’s classic adventure, focusing on the legendary “great discovery” that propels Harry Lawson and his eccentric uncle, Professor von Hardwig, on their epic journey. The episode is set in mid-19th-century Hamburg and Iceland, blending mystery, scientific curiosity, and family drama in the build-up to the expedition’s departure.
“I may be on the verge of some crude discovery.”
— Professor von Hardwig ([03:36])
"If you read from right to left..."
— Harry ([09:33])"Backwards! Backwards! Most cunning, Zacharias... The meaning of the whole passage in English is: 'Descend into the crater of Jokull of Snæfell, which the shadow of Scartaris caresses before the calends of July, audacious traveler, and you will reach the center of the Earth. I did it. Arne Saknussemm.'"
— Professor von Hardwig ([09:41])
“For through its crater we shall reach the center of the Earth.”
— Professor von Hardwig ([12:56])
"Do not be alarmed at the heat, my boy. My dear uncle, neither you nor anybody else knows anything about the real state of the earth's interior. The only way to learn is, like Arne Saknussemm, to go and see."
— Professor von Hardwig ([14:21])
“Now I understand why Arne Saknussemm was forced to hide his magnificent discoveries.”
— Professor von Hardwig ([17:33])
“If you fail [to pay], then our agreement is finished.”
— Hans ([19:48])
"That's the Mistour, Harry. If it breaks over us, it will destroy us. Nothing gets more certain. Make haste! Make haste, master!"
— Hans ([24:12])
Part One concludes as the expedition stands on the threshold of their descent, having successfully navigated the first challenges. The stage is set for the journey beneath the earth, promising both peril and wonder for listeners of this classic radio drama.