“I think I am, uncle. I should like to try. It will let the gentlemen see what you WOULD think an ideal state of things.--It is something, Mr. Wingfold, my uncle once dictated to me, and I wrote down just as he said it. He can always do better dictating than writing, but this time he was so ill with asthma that he could not talk much faster than I could write; and yet to be so ill I never saw him show so little suffering; his thinking seemed to make him forget it.--Mayn’t I read it, uncle? I know the gentlemen would like to hear it.” “That we should,” said both men at once. “I will fetch it you then,” said Polwarth, “if you will tell me where to find it.” Rachel gave him the needful directions, and presently he brought a few sheets of paper, and handed them to her. “This is no dream, Mr. Wingfold,” he said. “It is something I thought fairly out before I began to dictate it. But the only fit form I could find for it was that of a vision--like the Vision of Mirza, you know.--Now read, Rachel, and I will hold my tongue.” After a little arranging of the sheets, Rachel began. She read not without difficulty, but her pleasure in what she read helped her through. “‘And now, said my guide to me, I will bring thee to a city of the righteous, and show thee how they buy and sell in this the kingdom of heaven. So we journeyed a day and another day and half a day, and I was weary ere we arrived thither. But when I saw the loveliness of the place, and drew in the healing air thereof, my weariness vanished as a dream of the night, and I said, IT IS WELL.--I may not now speak of the houses and the dress and the customs of the dwellers therein, save what may belong to the buying and selling of which I have spoken. Gladly would I tell of the streams that went, some noiselessly gliding, others gurgling, some sweeping, some rushing and roaring, through every street, all issuing from one right plenteous fountain in the middle of the city, so that the ear was for ever filled with the sound of many waters all the day, ceasing when the night came, that silence might have its perfect work upon the soul. Gladly too would I tell of the trees and flowers and grass that grew in every street along the banks of the rivers. But I must withhold. “‘After I had, I know not for how long, refreshed my soul with what it was thus given, me to enjoy,--for in all that country there is no such thing as haste, no darting from one thing to another, but a calm eternal progress in which unto the day the good thereof is sufficient--one great noon-day, my conductor led me into a large place, such as we would call a shop here, although the arrangements were different, and an air of stateliness dwelt in and around the house. It was filled with the loveliest silken and woollen stuffs, of all kinds and colours, a thousand delights to the eye--and to the thought also, for here was endless harmony, and no discord.