The first country at which they landed was called The Land of Peace and Quietness. Soft, gentle breezes blow across this land, laden with the perfume of thousands of flowers. No destroying electric storms ever rage here to disturb the peaceful, quiet, sunlit days. This is the land where the tired people of Earth come to rest and have peace; peace, everlasting peace, for those who choose to stop. Here are those who have had to battle with discord at home and rough usage from the world at large and now all they ask is to be let alone and to be allowed to rest and wander through this blessed country, drinking in and enjoying the beauties and quiet of this blissful land. Here the grass is always green, the hills wrapped in purple mist over which float snowy clouds lit by the sun, while all around are shady groves filled with many birds that trill and warble until it would seem as if their little throats must burst with joyousness. The silvery streams purr through the grassy meadows, or sing a joyous song as they tumble over the rocks down the mountain-side or try to rival the lullaby of the willow-boughs swaying to and fro above them. The flowers never die here but as fast as one is plucked another blooms in its place. No harsh, loud sounds are ever heard, only harmony and melody float out on the air, resting and strengthening the nerves of the tired Earth people who come here for peace and quiet. Just over yonder mountains, further up the stream, is the land called The Land of Joy. Here everything is hustle and bustle, laughter and fun, and wherever one goes he meets picnic parties, some riding on hayracks, others in pleasure-boats, while still others roll by in open carriages. Brass bands and dance music are heard in every direction, a decided contrast to the soft, plaintive music heard in the Land of Peace. Here come the people who never had time to enjoy themselves while upon Earth, but who constantly longed to go to balls or picnics in the country, the invalid sister of the society girl or the poor seamstress who spent her life sewing on the garments of her more favored sisters. Every day with the rising of the Sun, merry bells announce to the inhabitants of this land that another day for jolly good fun has commenced. Every one on the streets is either whistling or singing, too happy to walk sedately or to keep silent. “And is there no land of sorrow except Hades?” asked Ione. “No,” replied Mercury, “there is enough sorrow on Earth to supply all the spheres were it allowed to pass the air-shed line. “Along this stream you will find a land to suit every body’s taste, be it a good one. I think the land most thickly populated is the Land of Music. Such halls and temples you never beheld and all are filled with every kind of musical instrument that was ever invented, while all the choruses are heavenly and harmonious.