And now, if the people of the lower world chanced to be looking
upward out of the turmoil of their petty perplexities, they probably
mistook the castle in the air for a heap of sunset clouds, to which
the magic of light and shade had imparted the aspect of a
fantastically constructed mansion. To such beholders it was unreal,
because they lacked the imaginative faith. Had they been worthy to
pass within its portal, they would have recognized the truth, that
the dominions which the spirit conquers for itself among unrealities
become a thousand times more real than the earth whereon they stamp
their feet, saying, "This is solid and substantial; this may be
called a fact."
At the appointed hour, the host stood in his great saloon to receive
the company. It was a vast and noble room, the vaulted ceiling of
which was supported by double rows of gigantic pillars that had been
hewn entire out of masses of variegated clouds. So brilliantly were
they polished, and so exquisitely wrought by the sculptor's skill,
as to resemble the finest specimens of emerald, porphyry, opal, and
chrysolite, thus producing a delicate richness of effect which their
immense size rendered not incompatible with grandeur. To each of
these pillars a meteor was suspended. Thousands of these ethereal
lustres are continually wandering about the firmament, burning out
to waste, yet capable of imparting a useful radiance to any person
who has the art of converting them to domestic purposes.
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