Shall I speak of my surroundings in the Summer-Land? Shall I tell you of the beautiful city that we in the eternal world call Zencollia,—meaning, literally, “city of light,”—so called from the brilliant rays which are reflected back from its towers, minarets, and gleaming walls when the sunlight falls upon them? The spires and towers of this beautiful city gleam in the distance as I am seated by my eastern window. Its white walls, glistening with alabaster-like spotlessness, seem to tell of purity and peace.
A TEMPLE OF LEARNING.
Amid that wonderful array of exquisite workmanship a brazen temple arises, its massive dome seeming to crown the structure with a coronal of living light. This grand temple I have visited in company with dear brothers who have gained a comprehension of truth and knowledge in the wisdom-schools of spirit life, and who have become familiar with the interior of this shining temple from frequent attendance upon the instructive lectures delivered therein. The temple of learning in Zencollia is the most massive building I have ever beheld. It is surrounded by an open space paved with delicate pink and white tiles of shining, translucent stone. A flight of variegated marble steps leads to the vestibule, which is also paved with pink and white tiles.
The building contains four spacious halls, the finest of which is dedicated to Science, the second to Literature, the third to Metaphysics, and the fourth to Music. Each hall is furnished with roomy seats for the accommodation of the audience; a raised platform at the farther end, upon which stands a marble table, and a cushioned seat, something like a capacious sofa, serves for the accommodation of the speakers or instructors.
The floors are all paved with variegated marble,—white, streaked with delicate pink and sea green; the pillars are of carved ivory; the walls are adorned with beautiful paintings, representing some illustration of the nature of the work to which the hall is dedicated; while the lofty ceilings are frescoed in the faintest azure, white and gold.
One of my companions, a student in the hall of science, was eager for my admittance there as a spectator, which was soon obtained. At the time of my visit the seats were filled with a throng of people, young and old, and of both sexes. The lesson was on the laws of chemistry; and the speaker, a gentleman apparently forty years old, but whom my brother assured me had been in the spirit world many decades of years, had a number of strange-looking instruments before him, with which to illustrate his theme, and to prove the truth of his theories by experiments.
“Do you notice that gray-haired gentleman in front, the one with the high forehead, whose penetrating, searching gaze seems to be taking in every movement of the speaker?” whispered my companion. I nodded assent.
“That is Michael Faraday, the scientist; and I tell you he is as earnest a student as any of us; he attends all our conventions. He has been invited to take part in the exercises, but declines, preferring to study rather than teach. Oh, I tell you, Sis, a good many of earth’s smartest men come here or go to other places to learn, when they reach spirit life.”
The lesson of the day was very instructive, and the experiments interesting; but as they were new to me, and far advanced, I did not understand them very well.
“I’ll tell you what, Miss Ammidown,” said brother J., playfully, as I expressed my amazement at some of the results of the professor’s experiments, “I’ll bring you here when we have a lesson on Electrical Life, and you shall see the teacher produce some most wonderful results without the aid of instruments. You look incredulous; but, Kitty, that is only because you have been used to earthly, material instruments. Here we can make use of the currents of electricity without any such adjuncts. You shall witness some of my own private experiments some time. You have a great deal to learn yet.”