Born Again | Page 7

that they possessed most magnificent physiques. They were neither fat nor lean and their well-groomed bodies showed plainly that no horse or piece of machinery ever received better care or attention. While they appeared to be from thirty to forty years in ages, not one of them wore a mustache, beard or any other shaggy decoration of the face. Their foreheads were broad and massive and extended to the center of their splendidly shaped craniums. Extraordinary intelligence, kindness and gentleness showed forth from every feature of their handsome countenances. Judging from their well-proportioned frames, each one looked powerful enough to battle single handed with an elephant. Judging from their faces not one of them would have hurt a flea. Each man appeared to be buried in the depth of thought--serious thought-- notwithstanding every physiognomy plainly showed that the utmost happiness and contentment existed within each, and good will between all of them. The skin of their faces, hands and feet was as white as snow, transparent, and backed by a beautiful pink. At first sight I thought they were the gods. Uniformly clothed in closely fitting garments from the ankles to the neck, their superb forms showed complete symmetrical perfection. The hue of their raiment was indescribable for I had never seen the like before. In fact the colors actually appeared to change before my steady gaze. Their feet were bare, very shapely, and the toes of greater length than ordinarily.
As I stood rooted to the ground and viewed them with intense admiration, I wondered why they did not speak or take notice of my presence. But finally in order to attract their attention I shouted, hello. My voice sounded rather harsh and peculiar on this occasion, and was more like the bray of an ass than anything else, but they made no motion as if they heard me, or were aware of my existence. Walking over to the nearest one, I reached up and touched him on the shoulder. Then I sprang back in amazement, for instead of giving any sign of recognition he merely placed his instrument in position, as did all the others, and with slow, graceful movements began to play. The first strains of music, although distinct and supernaturally grand, seemed to be miles away but gradually increased in sound as if coming nearer and nearer. At the same time I observed that the musicians, who were not only using both hands in the manipulation of their instruments but with graceful dexterity their feet as well, were becoming enthusiastic and appeared to throw their very lives and souls into the work. If at first while inactive they appeared to be extraordinarily intellectual beings, now in action they looked divine. Their eyes blazed like miniature suns shooting forth sparks of a thousand different hues. It seemed as if the very music itself came from the expression of their faces. And on, on, on, came the intoxicating strains, increasing in volume and excellence until I imagined that all heaven had broken loose in one great effort to charm my feeble senses, and then with a thunderous climax it ceased instantly, the musicians smiled and bowed pleasantly to one another, and then resumed their former attitudes.
No mortal's pen could describe my ecstasy while listening to the music produced by this body of--I must say heavenly creatures. There was something strange and analogous about it, too, that seemed to recall a mysterious dream or vision I had once passed through. Whether it was caused by the music or the kindly expressions of love for one another on the faces of the players I know not, but nevertheless great tears spontaneously rolled down my cheeks, the first I ever recollect having shed, and at the conclusion of the piece I remained transfixed to the spot for several minutes in deep cogitation.
Once more, however, my inquiring nature aroused me and I walked over toward the leader. His face was turned slightly in another direction, so I decided to step up on the platform, get squarely in front of him and look straight into his eyes. So with a light movement I sprang for the rostrum. But instead of reaching it my foot and head struck--not the platform but solid wall, and a second later I found myself in a heap on the ground. Then I started to think. Next I began to feel and finally a broad grin overspread my face, for the scene before me was not real after all, but a wonderful painting on the interior of the building.
CHAPTER VI
Putting my hand against the surface and walking along I discovered that this great scene which appeared to stretch away into the distance for several miles, including the trees, brook, lake, sun, clouds, sky, and everything else, was painted on the