I remained silent and he again addressed me.
I did not feel disconcerted or awed by his appearance and said: "I speak French and German imperfectly; English with some fluency."
His rejoinder was in English: "You speak English, but are not an Englishman except by partial descent. You are an American. Not a native of the eastern portion of the continent, but from west of the range of mountains which separate the Atlantic seaboard from the great central valley of the continent. You are from the tributary Ohio valley, and are, therefore, better fitted to comprehend what you will be permitted to see and hear, than the average habitant of the eastern seashore, especially of its great cities."
You can possibly imagine, in a faint way, my unbounded surprise to be thus addressed by one who was more than a stranger to me.
"You asked yourself two questions. I will answer the first: You are in Intermere."
"And where is Intermere?"
"It lies at your feet and expands on every hand about you. Let that suffice.
"No, this is not the Heaven to which your mother taught you to aspire. It is a part of your own planet, inhabited by beings sprung from the same parent stock as yourself, but differing from all other nations and peoples; a people who are many steps nearer to the higher and better life, and is, by comparison, the Paradise or Eden that masks the gateway of the true Heaven, in a sphere beyond in the great Universe."
He motioned to some one, and two persons appeared with refreshments.