loveliness, shone out the Temple of the Sun -- the peculiar pride
of the Zu-Vendi, to whom it was what Solomon's, or rather Herod's,

Temple was to the Jews. The wealth, and skill, and labour of
generations had been given to the building of this wonderful

place, which had been only finally completed within the last
fifty years. Nothing was spared that the country could produce,

and the result was indeed worthy of the effort, not so much on
account of its size -- for there are larger fanes in the world

-- as because of its perfect proportions, the richness and beauty
of its materials, and the wonderful workmanship. The building

(that stands by itself on a space of some eight acres of garden
ground on the hilltop, around which are the dwelling-places of

the priests) is built in the shape of a sunflower, with a dome-covered
central hall, from which radiate twelve petal-shaped courts,

each dedicated to one of the twelve months, and serving as the
repositories of statues reared in memory of the illustrious dead.

The width of the circle beneath the dome is three hundred feet,
the height of the dome is four hundred feet, and the length of

the rays is one hundred and fifty feet, and the height of their
roofs three hundred feet, so that they run into the central dome

exactly as the petals of the sunflower run into the great raised
heart. Thus the exact measurement from the centre of the central

altar to the extreme point of any one of the rounded rays would
be three hundred feet (the width of the circle itself), or a

total of six hundred feet from the rounded extremity of one ray
or petal to the extremity of the opposite one. {Endnote 14}

The building itself is of pure and polished white marble, which
shows out in marvellous contrast to the red granite of the frowning

city, on whose brow it glistens indeed like an imperial diadem
upon the forehead of a dusky queen. The outer surface of the

dome and of the twelve petal courts is covered entirely with
thin sheets of beaten gold; and from the extreme point of the

roof of each of these petals a glorious golden form with a trumpet
in its hand and widespread wings is figured in the very act of

soaring into space. I really must leave whoever reads this to
imagine the surpassing beauty of these golden roofs flashing

when the sun strikes -- flashing like a thousand fires aflame
on a mountain of polished marble -- so fiercely that the reflection

can be clearly seen from the great peaks of the range a hundred
miles away.

It is a marvellous sight -- this golden flower upborne upon the
cool white marble walls, and I doubt if the world can show such

another. What makes the whole effect even more gorgeous is that
a belt of a hundred and fifty feet around the marble wall of

the temple is planted with an indigenous species of sunflower,
which were at the time when we first saw them a sheet of golden

bloom.
The main entrance to this wonderful place is between the two

northernmost of the rays or petal courts, and is protected first
by the usual bronze gates, and then by doors made of solid marble,

beautifully carved with allegorical subjects and overlaid with
gold. When these are passed there is only the thickness of the

wall, which is, however, twenty-five feet (for the Zu-Vendi build
for all time), and another slight wall also of white marble,

introduced in order to avoid causing a visible gap in the inner
skin of the wall, and you stand in the circular hall under the

great dome. Advancing to the central altar you look upon as
beautiful a sight as the imagination of man can conceive. You

are in the middle of the holy place, and above you the great
white marble dome (for the inner skin, like the outer, is of

polished marble throughout) arches away in graceful curves something
like that of St Paul's in London, only at a slighter angle, and

from the funnel-like opening at the exact apex a bright beam
of light pours down upon the golden altar. At the east and the

west are other altars, and other beams of light stab the sacred
twilight to the heart. In ever direction, 'white, mystic, wonderful',

open out the ray-like courts, each pierced through by a single
arrow of light that serves to illumine its lofty silence and

dimly to reveal the monuments of the dead. {Endnote 15}
Overcome at so awe-inspiring a sight, the vast loveliness of

which thrills the nerves like a glance from beauty's eyes, you
turn to the central golden altar, in the midst of which, though

you cannot see it now, there burns a pale but steady flame crowned
with curls of faint blue smoke. It is of marble overlaid with

pure gold, in shape round like the sun, four feet in height,
and thirty-six in circumference. Here also, hinged to the foundations

of the altar, are twelve petals of beaten gold. All night and,
except at one hour, all day also, these petals are closed over

the altar itself exactly as the petals of a water-lily close
over the yellow crown in stormy weather; but when the sun at

midday pierces through the funnel in the dome and lights upon
the golden flower, the petals open and reveal the hidden mystery,

only to close again when the ray has passed.
Nor is this all. Standing in semicircles at equal distances

from each other on the north and south of the sacred place are
ten golden angels, or femalewinged forms, exquisitely shaped

and draped. These figures, which are slightly larger than life-size,
stand with bent heads in an attitude of adoration, their faces

shadowed by their wings, and are most imposing and of exceeding
beauty.

There is but one thing further which calls for description
in this altar, which is, that to the east the flooring in front

of it is not of pure white marble, as elsewhere throughout the
building, but of solid brass, and this is also the case in front

of the other two altars.
The eastern and western altars, which are semicircular in shape,

and placed against the wall of the building, are much less imposing,
and are not enfolded in golden petals. They are, however, also

of gold, the sacred fire burns on each, and a golden-winged figure
stands on either side of them. Two great golden rays run up

the wall behind them, but where the third or middle one should
be is an opening in the wall, wide on the outside, but narrow

within, like a loophole turned inwards. Through the eastern
loopholestream the first beams of the rising sun, and strike

right across the circle, touching the folded petals of the great
gold flower as they pass till they impinge upon the western altar.

In the same way at night the last rays of the sinking sun rest
for a while on the eastern altar before they die away into darkness.

It is the promise of the dawn to the evening and the evening
to the dawn.

With the exception of those three altars and the winged figures
about them, the whole space beneath the vast white dome is utterly

empty and devoid of ornamentation -- a circumstance that to my
fancy adds greatly to its splendour.

Such is a brief description of this wonderful and lovely building,
to the glories of which, to my mind so much enhanced by their

complete simplicity, I only wish I had the power to do justice.
But I cannot, so it is useless talking more about it. But when

I compare this great work of genius to some of the tawdry buildings
and tinsel ornamentation produced in these latter days by European

ecclesiastical architects, I feel that even highly civilized
art might learn something from the Zu-Vendi masterpieces. I

can only say that the exclamation which sprang to my lips as
soon as my eyes first became accustomed to the dim light of that

glorious building, and its white and curving beauties, perfect
and thrilling as those of a naked goddess, grew upon me one by

one, was, 'Well! a dog would feel religious here.' It is vulgarly
put, but perhaps it conveys my meaning more clearly than any

polished utterance.
At the temple gates our party was received by a guard of soldiers,

who appeared to be under the orders of a priest; and by them