AutoSummarize gets to the core of A Journey to the Center of the Earth.
My uncle, however, was in raptures.
My uncle shrugged his shoulders.
"Bother the dinner!" cried my uncle.
"My dear uncle-" I began.
Where was my uncle? "My worthy uncle is already nearly mad," I cried aloud. Never!
"Uncle," I began.
"Professor Hardwigg," I cried.
"Backwards!" cried my uncle, in wild amazement.
My uncle reflected deeply. My uncle had an answer for everything.
My uncle said nothing. "Let us ascend," said my uncle.
I watched my uncle keenly. "A secret-which," stammered my uncle.
"Oh yes, Sneffels," said my uncle.
"No, no, a thousand times no," cried my uncle.
"To the interior of the earth, yes," replied my uncle.
"For bida?" asked my uncle.
"Ja," replied Hans.
"A leper," explained my uncle.
My uncle settled with him immediately.
"Kyrkoherde," cried Hans, turning round and introducing him to my uncle.
My uncle, however, paid without bargaining.
"Look," said my uncle.
"Attention-look out," repeated my uncle.
"Forward!" cried my uncle. "Well?"
The worthy Professor never spoke a word.
My uncle was silent.
Was my uncle mad? I thanked my uncle by clasping my hands. I cried.
My uncle as he spoke was terribly excited. My uncle now interposed.
My uncle turned and slowly retraced his steps. "Hans-Hans, if you are a man, come back."
"Water, water!" I cried.
"What is the matter now?" cried my uncle.
Lost! Lost!! LOST!!!
"Oh, Uncle!" was my despairing cry.
It must be either my uncle or the guide Hans! It was my uncle, the Professor, who was speaking. "Uncle Hardwigg."
"Forty seconds," said my uncle. "Yes, my good uncle," I whispered.
"Sea voyage?" "The sea-the sea," I cried.
"You are right, Uncle," I remarked. "What may that be, Uncle? "A fish!" cried my uncle.
"Take care, my boy," again cried my uncle, "you will fall into the sea."
"What matters that?" cried my uncle. I began to understand my uncle's anger.
"Eh, what is it?" cried my uncle starting up. "There," replied my uncle.
"Go ahead," said my uncle.
"An island!" cried my uncle.
My uncle's coolness was exasperating.
"A human head, Uncle!" Besides, after all, my uncle was right. My uncle ventured beneath the gigantic groves. Come away, Uncle, I implore you. Never mind. "What can you mean, Uncle?" "A. S.!" cried my uncle. My uncle and the Icelander followed. "To work, Hans, to work!" cried the Professor.
My uncle, the Professor, never took his eyes off the chronometer.
I tried to speak, to question my uncle. I cried. Suddenly my uncle roused himself. "What is the matter?" said my uncle.
"Uncle, Uncle!" My uncle coolly shook his head.
"Look, Uncle, look!" I cried.
"A simple halt," replied my uncle.
Maria Mitchell is shown holding a telescope to each eye, using them to ogle passing hunks on the street below. OOOGA! Her tongue rolls out like a firehose, her eyes comically bulging through the ends of the telescopes.
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