Such was the representation I watched through my optic glass; for my proparents interpreted what I saw, and showed me the spiritual meaning of this cosmorama of the future. The details of the living picture I had not time to mark; nor were my guardians willing that these should distract my attention from the central ideas; they emphasised the guiding principles of the new life we might perhaps soon lead, and the glory of it overcame my earth-born ambitions. What a pitiful figure did Choktroo and his armies and fleets seem in comparison with such a life! All the great conquerors and heroes of earth were pigmies seen in a light like this, slaves to brute longings and ambitions. I grew ashamed of ever having harboured anything but contempt for even the greatest career of mortal upon earth. Nor yet were we done with our cure. The imaginative artists had filled another and complementary edifice with living pictures of all that by means of horror could drive us forward on the path of progress. It was called Ciralaison, or the museum of terrors. I had often heard of it and had imagined it as a place of unending torture, a Limanoran and rationalised version of the hell of Christendom, and looked forward with much loathing and curiosity to the sight of it. We were taught that this was no imaginary place, but the too real result of all retrogression and encouragement of atavism, and that there was nothing supernatural in it, but that it was the natural outcome of all lapses from the existing ethical path of advance. It was the contrivance of nature herself to prevent degeneration. As I had read Dante’s _Inferno_, it was easy for me to map out the features of Ciralaison. I knew the vices and faults they most shrank from, and these would define their own natural punishments. As we winged our way towards the sombre edifice, perched, strangely enough, upon one of the most prominent spurs of Lilaroma that beetled over the sea, I let my mind wander over what was soon to meet my eyes; pictured a place of intense woe, full of the horrors of a mediæval place of torture: I could almost imagine I heard the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.