“Let us enter then,” said the Angel, and drew me in; and there in the porch I first of all perceived a large baptismal font, and hard by, a well of salt water. “What is this doing in the middle of the road?” I asked. “Because everybody must wash therein before obtaining citizenship in the Court of Emmanuel; it is called the well of repentance.” Overhead I could see inscribed “This is the gate of the Lord.” The gateway, and street also, widened and became less steep as we went on, and after proceeding a short distance I heard a voice behind me slowly saying, “That is the way, walk ye in it.” The street trended upwards, but was very clean and straight, and though the houses there were not so lofty as those in the City of Destruction, they were fairer to behold; if there was less wealth, there was also less dissension and care; if the choice dishes were fewer, pain was more rare; if there was less turmoil, there was less grief and more undoubtedly of true joy. I wondered at the silence and sweet tranquility there, when thinking of what was going on below. Instead of the cursing and swearing, the scoffing, debauchery and drunkenness, instead of the pride and vanity, the torpitude of one quarter and the violence of another, yea, for all the bustle and the pomp, the hurly-burly and the brawl which there unceasingly bewildered men, and for the innumerable and unvarying sins, there was nothing to be seen here but sobriety, kindness and cheerfulness, peace and thankfulness, compassion, innocence and contentment stamped upon the face of every man, except where one or two silently wept, grieving that they had tarried so long in the enemy’s city. There was no hatred or anger, except towards sin, and this was certain to be overcome; no fear, but of displeasing their king, who was more ready to be reconciled than to be angry with his subjects; no sound, but that of psalms of praise to their Saviour. By this we had come in sight of an exceedingly fine building, oh, so magnificent! No one in the City of Destruction, neither the Turk nor the Mogul nor any one else, has anything equal to it. “This is the Catholic Church,” said the Angel. “Is it here Emmanuel holds his court?” asked I. “Yes, this is the only royal court he has on earth.” “Are there many crowned heads beneath his sway?” “A few—thy queen, some of the princes of Scandinavia and Germany, and a few other petty princes.” “What is that compared with those over whom great Belial rules—emperors and kings without number?” “For all that,” said the Angel, “not one of them can move a finger without Emmanuel’s permission—no, not even Belial himself. For Emmanuel is his rightful liege too, only that he rebelled, and was in consequence bound in chains to all eternity; although he is still allowed for a short period to visit the City of Destruction where he entices all he can into like rebellion, and to bear a share of his punishment; and though he well knows that by so doing he increases his