ourselves on it and were lowered into the hall below.  My new companion, still holding me by the hand, conducted me from the building into a street (so to speak) that stretched beyond it, with buildings on either side, separated from each other by gardens bright with rich-coloured vegetation and strange flowers.  Interspersed amidst these gardens, which were divided from each other by low walls, or walking slowly along the road, were many forms similar to those I had already seen.  Some of the passers-by, on observing me, approached my guide, evidently by their tones, looks, and gestures addressing to him inquiries about myself.  In a few moments a crowd collected around us, examining me with great interest, as if I were some rare wild animal.  Yet even in gratifying their curiosity they preserved a grave and courteous demeanour; and after a few words from my guide, who seemed to me to deprecate obstruction in our road, they fell back with a stately inclination of head, and resumed their own way with tranquil indifference.  Midway in this thoroughfare we stopped at a building that differed from those we had hitherto passed, inasmuch as it formed three sides of a vast court, at the angles of which were lofty pyramidal towers; in the open space between the sides was a circular fountain of colossal dimensions, and throwing up a dazzling spray of what seemed to me fire.  We entered the building through an open doorway and came into an enormous hall, in which were several groups of children, all apparently employed in work as at some great factory.  There was a huge engine in the wall which was in full play, with wheels and cylinders resembling our own steam-engines, except that it was richly ornamented with precious stones and metals, and appeared to emanate a pale phosphorescent atmosphere of shifting light.  Many of the children were at some mysterious work on this machinery, others were seated before tables.  I was not allowed to linger long enough to examine into the nature of their employment.  Not one young voice was heard—­not one young face turned to gaze on us.  They were all still and indifferent as may be ghosts, through the midst of which pass unnoticed the forms of the living.

Quitting this hall, my guide led me through a gallery richly painted in compartments, with a barbaric mixture of gold in the colours, like pictures by Louis Cranach.  The subjects described on these walls appeared to my glance as intended to illustrate events in the history of the race amidst which I was admitted.  In all there were figures, most of them like the manlike creatures I had seen, but not all in the same fashion of garb, nor all with wings.  There were also the effigies of various animals and birds, wholly strange to me, with backgrounds depicting landscapes or buildings.  So far as my imperfect knowledge of the pictorial art would allow me to form an opinion, these paintings seemed very accurate in design and very rich in colouring, showing a perfect knowledge of perspective, but their details not arranged according to the rules of composition acknowledged by our artists—­wanting, as it were, a centre; so that the effect was vague, scattered, confused, bewildering—­they were like heterogeneous fragments of a dream of art.