In a state of delicious languor, I watched the varied wonders before me. The pavilion, which was of silver lace or filagree woven in the most exquisite patterns, was a hundred or more feet in circumference, and adorned with open arches and columns on its several sides. These columns and arches were of coral and gold, which contrasted with the silver network, and the blossoms and foliage of curious plants and vines which graced the interior, forming altogether a structure of singular elegance and beauty.
Numberless forms like the fabled peris and gods of mythology glided in and out of these arches, and approached me with offerings of welcome. One blooming Venetian maiden presented me with a crystal containing a golden liquid, which she said was the elixir of the poets and painters of her nation. The name she gave it was “The Poet’s Fancy,” and she informed me that it was distilled from a plant which fed upon or absorbed the emanations which the active mentalities of these poetic beings exhaled.
This information was quite new to me, and gave me pleasure, as it accorded with my ideas of correspondence. So I sipped the “Poet’s Fancy,” and imagined that its delicious, aromatic flavor vivified me like rays of sunshine. If, previously, I had been charmed, I now certainly experienced a power of enjoyment and quickness of perception tenfold increased.
I then inquired for Swedenborg, Spurzheim, and Lavatar. “You will meet them further on,” said she, smiling. “They are not here.” I was so well pleased with her that I twined my arm around her fairy-like form and we glided away together. As I desired to obtain a peep at the outside of the beautiful pavilion, my companion led the way, pausing here and there to present me to groups who had advanced for that purpose. The company I found to be composed of writers and painters, interspersed with a few of my own personal friends; and I felt gratified to find myself so well received by those whom I had known on earth as celebrities.
“’Tis strange,” I remarked to my companion, “that such choice minds should all be gathered together in one place.”
“They are spirits congenial to your own,” said she. “Like attracts like, and they have come from their respective homes in the spirit world to welcome you here.”
“Ah,” said I, “I now begin to understand what all this fine company means! This is my reception.”
As we were leaving the pavilion we were joined by Herr Von ——, the celebrated Swedish naturalist who had recently entered the spirit world. He congratulated me upon my safe arrival, and kindly offered to act as _cicerone_ and to point out to me the marvels by which I was surrounded.
To my astonishment, on reaching the open air I discovered that the pavilion was located upon the summit of a lofty mountain. The face of this mountain was of many colors and glistened like precious stones. My friend led me to the point of a precipice on one side and bade me look down. This I did, and beheld phosphorescent rays issuing from the sides.
“What wonder is this?” I asked. He informed me the mountain was magnetic in its character, and that it was, so to speak, the first station from earth, and a point easily attained by a spirit newly arriving from that planet. He said I was not permanently to remain upon the mountain, but was placed there until I should become acclimated to the spirit atmosphere, and to acquire strength before travelling to that portion of the spirit land which would form my permanent abode.