It was a glorious ride. The elephant at the Zoo – to ride on him is also glorious, but he goes such a very little way, and then he goes back again, which is always dull. But this great hairy beast went on and on and on along streets and through squares and gardens. It was a glorious city; almost everything was built of marble, red, or white, or black. Every now and then the party crossed a bridge.

      It was not till they had climbed to the hill which is the centre of the town that they saw that the whole city was divided into twenty circles, alternately land and water, and over each of the water circles were the bridges by which they had come.

      And now they were in a great square. A vast building filled up one side of it; it was overlaid with gold, and had a dome of silver. The rest of the buildings round the square were of orichalcum. And it looked more splendid than you can possibly imagine, standing up bold and shining in the sunlight.

      ‘You would like a bath,’ said the Captain, as the hairy elephant went clumsily down on his knees. ‘It’s customary, you know, before entering the Presence. We have baths for men, women, horses, and cattle. The High Class Baths are here. Our Father Poseidon gave us a spring of hot water and one of cold.’

      The children had never before bathed in baths of gold.

      ‘It feels very splendid,’ said Cyril, splashing.

      ‘At least, of course, it’s not gold; it’s or – what’s its name,’ said Robert. ‘Hand over that towel.’

      The bathing hall had several great pools sunk below the level of the floor; one went down to them by steps.

      ‘Jimmy,’ said Anthea timidly, when, very clean and boiled-looking, they all met in the flowery courtyard of the Public, ‘don’t you think all this seems much more like now than Babylon or Egypt – ? Oh, I forgot, you’ve never been there.’

      ‘I know a little of those nations, however,’ said he, ‘and I quite agree with you. A most discerning remark – my dear,’ he added awkwardly; ‘this city certainly seems to indicate a far higher level of civilisation than the Egyptian or Babylonish, and—’

      ‘Follow me,’ said the Captain. ‘Now, boys, get out of the way.’ He pushed through a little crowd of boys who were playing with dried chestnuts fastened to a string.

      ‘Ginger!’ remarked Robert, ‘they’re playing conkers, just like the kids in Kentish Town Road!’

      They could see now that three walls surrounded the island on which they were. The outermost wall was of brass, the Captain told them; the next, which looked like silver, was covered with tin; and the innermost one was of orichalcum.

      And right in the middle was a wall of gold, with golden towers and gates.

      ‘Behold the Temples of Poseidon,’ said the Captain. ‘It is not lawful for me to enter. I will await your return here.’

      He told them what they ought to say, and the five people from Fitzroy Street took hands and went forward. The golden gates slowly opened.

      ‘We are the children of the Sun,’ said Cyril, as he had been told, ‘and our High Priest, at least that’s what the Captain calls him. We have a different name for him at home.’

      ‘What is his name?’ asked a white-robed man who stood in the doorway with his arms extended.

      ‘Ji-jimmy,’ replied Cyril, and he hesitated as Anthea had done. It really did seem to be taking a great liberty with so learned a gentleman. ‘And we have come to speak with your Kings in the Temple of Poseidon – does that word sound right?’ he whispered anxiously.

      ‘Quite,’ said the learned gentleman. ‘It’s very odd I can understand what you say to them, but not what they say to you.’

      ‘The Queen of Babylon found that too,’ said Cyril; ‘it’s part of the magic.’

      ‘Oh, what a dream!’ said the learned gentleman.

      The white-robed priest had been joined by others, and all were bowing low.

      ‘Enter,’ he said, ‘enter, Children of the Sun, with your High Ji-jimmy.’

      In an inner courtyard stood the Temple – all of silver, with gold pinnacles and doors, and twenty enormous statues in bright gold of men and women. Also an immense pillar of the other precious yellow metal.

      They went through the doors, and the priest led them up a stair into a gallery from which they could look down on to the glorious place.

      ‘The ten Kings are even now choosing the bull. It is not lawful for me to behold,’ said the priest, and fell face downward on the floor outside the gallery. The children looked down.

      The roof was of ivory adorned with the three precious metals, and the walls were lined with the favourite orichalcum.

      At the far end of the Temple was a statue-group, the like of which no one living has ever seen.

      It was of gold, and the head of the chief figure reached to the roof. That figure was Poseidon, the Father of the City. He stood in a great chariot drawn by six enormous horses, and round about it were a hundred mermaids riding on dolphins.

      Ten men, splendidly dressed and armed only with sticks and ropes, were trying to capture one of some fifteen bulls who ran this way and that about the floor of the Temple. The children held their breath, for the bulls looked dangerous, and the great horned heads were swinging more and more wildly.

      Anthea did not like looking at the bulls. She looked about the gallery, and noticed that another staircase led up from it to a still higher story; also that a door led out into the open air, where there seemed to be a balcony.

      So that when a shout went up and Robert whispered, ‘Got him,’ and she looked down and saw the herd of bulls being driven out of the Temple by whips, and the ten Kings following, one of them spurring with his stick a black bull that writhed and fought in the grip of a lasso, she answered the boy’s agitated, ‘Now we shan’t see anything more,’ with:

      ‘Yes we can, there’s an outside balcony.’

      So they crowded out.

      But very soon the girls crept back.

      ‘I don’t like sacrifices,’ Jane said. So she and Anthea went and talked to the priest, who was no longer lying on his face, but sitting on the top step mopping his forehead with his robe, for it was a hot day.

      ‘It’s a special sacrifice,’ he said; ‘usually it’s only done on the justice days every five years and six years alternately. And then they drink the cup of wine with some of the bull’s blood in it, and swear to judge truly. And they wear the sacred blue robe, and put out all the Temple fires. But this today is because the City’s so upset by the odd noises from the sea, and the god inside the big mountain speaking with his thunder-voice. But all that’s happened so often before. If anything could make me uneasy it wouldn’t be that.’

      ‘What would it be?’ asked Jane kindly.

      ‘It would be the Lemmings.’

      ‘Who