in number.  There was snow upon their heads and wherever snow could lodge.  Each statue had been built of four or five enormous blocks, but how these had been raised and put together is known to those alone who raised them.  Each was terrible after a different kind.  One was raging furiously, as in pain and great despair; another was lean and cadaverous with famine; another cruel and idiotic, but with the silliest simper that can be conceived—­this one had fallen, and looked exquisitely ludicrous in his fall—­the mouths of all were more or less open, and as I looked at them from behind, I saw that their heads had been hollowed.

I was sick and shivering with cold.  Solitude had unmanned me already, and I was utterly unfit to have come upon such an assembly of fiends in such a dreadful wilderness and without preparation.  I would have given everything I had in the world to have been back at my master’s station; but that was not to be thought of:  my head was failing, and I felt sure that I could never get back alive.

Then came a gust of howling wind, accompanied with a moan from one of the statues above me.  I clasped my hands in fear.  I felt like a rat caught in a trap, as though I would have turned and bitten at whatever thing was nearest me.  The wildness of the wind increased, the moans grew shriller, coming from several statues, and swelling into a chorus.  I almost immediately knew what it was, but the sound was so unearthly that this was but little consolation.  The inhuman beings into whose hearts the Evil One had put it to conceive these statues, had made their heads into a sort of organ-pipe, so that their mouths should catch the wind and sound with its blowing.  It was horrible.  However brave a man might be, he could never stand such a concert, from such lips, and in such a place.  I heaped every invective upon them that my tongue could utter as I rushed away from them into the mist, and even after I had lost sight of them, and turning my head round could see nothing but the storm-wraiths driving behind me, I heard their ghostly chanting, and felt as though one of them would rush after me and grip me in his hand and throttle me.

I may say here that, since my return to England, I heard a friend playing some chords upon the organ which put me very forcibly in mind of the Erewhonian statues (for Erewhon is the name of the country upon which I was now entering).  They rose most vividly to my recollection the moment my friend began.  They are as follows, and are by the greatest of all musicians:—­{2}

[Music score which cannot be reproduced]

CHAPTER VI:  INTO EREWHON