Man is in one, angel and animal, and ever as the angel strives for ascendency, the animal snarls and shows its teeth, and you may believe me that, were it not that Spirits of highest Realms control illumined minds of Earth, who serve as restraining influences in the consciousness of the masses, a chaotic state of society quickly would ensue. Apparently, it is a provision of Divine Law that the wise and strong shall aid the unwise and weak; that the higher shall reach down to uplift the lowly, and those who fail to fulfill this righteous law thereby so lessen their Spiritual estate that, in the world of equitable adjustments, they find themselves in a state of poverty undreamed of by mortal man. Yes, even as the peoples of Earth agonize in the throes of evolution, so in past ages have the Entoans agonized; so, to a degree, do they yet agonize, for though they are more highly evolved than are the peoples of our planet, they, as I have once said, are yet in their swaddling clothes. Yes, ages elapsed ere they evolved from savagery to a civilization which made it possible for their ideals to assume form and expression in the construction of this wonderful and beautiful city. Wonderful not only in its architecture, but in its many fine expressions of science, of art, of social amenities and usages, and other admirable features of an advanced evolution, which has carried from the past into the living present such lessons of wisdom as have been learned in the school of experience. The school whose pupils never play truant and who ever are learning their lessons well or ill, and who, perforce of natural law, _must_ advance onward toward clearer, higher views of the meaning of life, of love, of God in humanity. Now again look southward. Is not it a vision to enrapture the soul of an artist or a lover of the beautiful? See how temples, domes and light towers lose themselves in the cloudlike, luminous haze which the slanting sun rays glorify into an indescribable loveliness. Toward the lovely valley Ins[a:]lû the shadows of declining day are falling over the whiteness of the city and over domed temples and light towers. Afar, gray and empurpled mist wreaths are rising and veiling the pallid beauty of fountain groups, whose silvery treasures, thrown high into the quiet air, are tinted by the glory of the setting sun, which gleams athwart T[a:]imon, over which, like dream phantoms, vessels great and small are noiselessly gliding. Lower, lower sinks the red disk of the solar king, and fleecy clouds, catching the reflection of his last beams, put on their robes of crimson and gold, and like angels in flight, drift across the deepening azure of the sky. George, we now will ascend, but not to a great height, for soon the light towers will be ablaze, and you, Gentol[a:] and Bernard, will witness a spectacle you will not soon forget.