CHAPTER XI. It was not long, however, before my train of thought brought me back to the old groove. I reflected that although I had been told that people whose energies were failing generally preferred to give themselves a quietus, I still did not know how it was that no one seemed to bear any of the usual marks of age. I could hardly believe that the approach of a wrinkle, or a slight failing in any given direction, would be considered a sufficient warning to put an end to earthly troubles and yet I met not a single individual who looked as if she or he was even nearing old age. “It is strange,” I said at last, “that everyone here seems gifted with perpetual youth. I wish you would explain the mystery to me.” “Nothing easier,” she rejoined. “I was just taking you to see one of our most important buildings. Follow me.” Nothing loath, and with my curiosity roused to the very apex of expectation, I followed my guide into a magnificent building which we had approached. There were many other people entering at the same time, and more careful observation convinced me that none of them looked quite as bright and healthy as the New Amazonians with whom I had hitherto associated. I looked enquiringly at Principal Grey. She did but smile, and bid me be seated. “Wait awhile,” she said, “and you shall witness a miracle.” Being deprived of the necessity for action for a time, yet fully appreciating the advantages of a welcome rest, I made diligent use of my eyes, and marvelled much at the rugged, chaste grandeur of the building, which Principal Grey told me was the Andersonia Physiological Hall. There was a marvellous groined roof, supported by equally marvellous granite pillars. The floor was tesselated, the doors of massive clamped oak, and the windows were wonderful dreams of the glass-painter’s art. The splendid staircase which led from the central hall to the upper storys was of brilliant white marble, the balusters being of polished red granite, as were also the numerous fluted columns which supported both staircase and ceiling. The whole building was a perfect dream of taste and splendour, but it was the people, after all, who claimed most of my attention. It seemed to me that those who entered the Hall, and passed on to what Principal Grey called the “Renewing Rooms,” were none of them quite so vigorous and brisk as those who passed us on their return. And yet the latter all seemed to have grown unaccountably stouter in one arm, which they carried with almost wooden stiffness and awkwardness. Of course I looked my enquiries, but for a time my guide and entertainer preferred to tantalise me by refraining from explaining the mystery which puzzled me.