fell to her
knees--her only garment.

The girl was a lovely image of young womanhood, the proud swell of the
breast tapering to the slim waist and long limbs easily folded as she
half reclined at the divine feet, her lips pressed to the pipe. Its
silent music mysteriously banished fear. The sleep must be sweet
indeed that would come under the guardianship of these two fair
creatures--their gracious influence was dewy in the air. I resolved that
I would spend the night beside them. Now with the march of the moon dim
vistas of the walls beyond sprang into being. Strange mythologies--the
incarnations of Vishnu the Preserver, the Pastoral of Krishna the
Beautiful. I promised myself that next day I would sketch some of the
loveliness about me. But the moon was passing on her way--I folded the
coat I carried into a pillow and lay down at the feet of the goddess and
her nymph. Then a moonlit quiet I slept in a dream of peace.

Sleep annihilates time. Was it long or short when I woke like a man
floating up to the surface from tranquil deeps? That I cannot tell, but
once more I possessed myself and every sense was on guard.

My hearing first. Bare feet were coming, falling softly as leaves, but
unmistakable. There was a dim whispering but I could hear no word. I
rose on my elbow and looked down the long hall. Nothing. The moonlight
lay in pools of light and seas of shadow on the floor, and the feet drew
nearer. Was I afraid? I cannot tell, but a deep expectation possessed
me as the sound grew like the rustle of grasses parted in a fluttering
breeze, and now a girl came swiftly up the steps, irradiate in the
moonlight, and passing up the hall stood beside me. I could see her
robe, her feet bare from the jungle, but her face wavered and changed
and re-united like the face of a dream woman. I could not fix it for
one moment, yet knew this was the messenger for whom I had waited all
my life--for whom one strange experience, not to be told at present, had
prepared me in early manhood. Words came, and I said:

"Is this a dream?"

"No. We meet in the Ninth Vibration. All here is true."

"Is a dream never true?"

"Sometimes it is the echo of the Ninth Vibration and therefore a
harmonic of truth. You are awake now. It is the day-time that is the
sleep of the soul. You are in the Lower Perception, wherein the truth
behind the veil of what men call Reality is perceived."

"Can I ascend?"

"I cannot tell. That is for you, not me