It was half-past eight by my watch when I woke on the morning following our arrival at Milosis, having slept almost exactly twelve hours, and I must say that I did indeed feel better. Ah, what a blessed thing is sleep! and what a difference twelve hours of it or so makes to us after days and nights of and danger. It is like going to bed one man and getting up another.  
I sat up upon my silken couch—never had I slept upon such a bed before—and the first thing that I saw was Good’s eyeglass on me from the of his silken couch. There was nothing else of him to be seen except his eyeglass, but I knew from the look of it that he was awake, and waiting till I woke up to begin.
 
‘I say, Quatermain,’ he commenced sure enough, ‘did you observe her skin? It is as smooth as the back of an ivory hairbrush.’
 
‘Now look here, Good,’ I , when there came a sound at the curtain, which, on being , admitted a , who signified by signs that he was there to lead us to the bath. We gladly consented, and were conducted to a marble , with a pool of running crystal water in the centre of it, into which we . When we had bathed, we returned to our apartment and dressed, and then went into the central room where we had supped on the previous evening, to find a morning meal already prepared for us, and a capital meal it was, though I should be puzzled to describe the dishes. After breakfast we lounged round and admired the and carpets and some pieces of statuary that were placed about, wondering the while what was going to happen next. Indeed, by this time our minds were in such a state of complete bewilderment that we were, as a matter of fact, ready for anything that might arrive. As for our sense of , it was pretty well . Whilst we were still thus engaged, our friend the captain of the guard presented himself, and with many signified that we were to follow him, which we did, not without doubts and heart-searchings—for we guessed that the time had come when we should have to settle the bill for those confounded hippopotami with our cold-eyed friend Agon, the High Priest. However, there was no help for it, and personally I took great comfort in the promise of the protection of the sister Queens, knowing that if ladies have a will they can generally find a way; so off we started as though we liked it. A minute’s walk through a passage and an outer court brought us to the great double gates of the palace that open on to the wide highway which runs uphill through the heart of Milosis to the Temple of the Sun a mile away, and thence down the slope on the farther side of the temple to the outer wall of the city.
 
These gates are very large and massive, and an beautiful work in metal. Between them—for one set is placed at the entrance to an interior, and one at that of the wall—is a fosse, forty-five feet in width. This fosse is filled with water and spanned by a drawbridge, which when lifted makes the palace nearly impregnable to anything except siege guns. As we came, one half of the wide gates were flung open, and we passed over the drawbridge and presently stood gazing up one of the most , if not the most imposing, roadways in the world. It is a hundred feet from to curb, and on either side, not and crowded together, as is our European fashion, but each in its own grounds, and built equidistant from and in similar style to the rest, are a series of splendid, single-storied , all of red . These are the town houses of the nobles of the Court, and stretch away in unbroken lines for a mile or more till the eye is arrested by the glorious vision of the Temple of the Sun that crowns the hill and heads the roadway.
 
As we stood gazing at this splendid sight, of which more anon, there suddenly dashed up to the four chariots, each drawn by two white horses. These chariots are two-wheeled, and made of wood. They are fitted with a pole, the weight of which is supported by leathern girths that form a portion of the harness. The wheels are made with four only, are tired with iron, and quite innocent of springs. In the front of the chariot, and immediately over the pole, is a small seat for the driver, railed round to prevent him from being off. Inside the machine itself are three low seats, one at each side, and one with the back to the horses, opposite to which is the door. The whole vehicle is lightly and yet strongly made, and, owing to the grace of the curves, though , not half so ugly as might be expected.
 
But if the chariots left something to be desired, the horses did not. They were simply splendid, not very large but strongly built, and well ribbed up, with small heads, large and round , and a great look of speed and blood. I have often wondered whence this breed, which presents many distinct characteristics, came, but like that of its owners, it history is obscure. Like the people the horses have always been there. The first and last of these chariots were occupied by guards, but the centre two were empty, except for the driver, and to these we were conducted. Alphonse and I got into the first, and Sir Henry, Good, and Umslopogaas into the one behind, and then suddenly off we went. And we did go! Among the Zu-Vendi it is not usual to horses either riding or driving, especially when the journey to be made is a short one—they go at full . As soon as we were seated the driver called out, the horses sprang forward, and we were whirled away at a speed sufficient to take one’s breath, and which, till I got accustomed to it, kept me in fear of an upset. As for the wretched Alphonse, he clung with a despairing face to the side of what he called this ‘devil of a fiacre’, thinking that every moment was his last. Presently it occurred to him to ask where we were going, and I told him that, as far as I could , we were going to be sacrificed by burning. You should have seen his face as he grasped the side of the vehicle and cried out in his terror.
 
But the wild-looking charioteer only leant forward over his flying steeds and shouted; and the air, as it went singing past, bore away the sound of Alphonse’s lamentations.
 
And now before us, in all its marvellous splendour and dazzling loveliness, shone out the Temple of the Sun—the 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 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 -covered central hall, from which radiate twelve -shaped courts, each 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 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 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 indeed like an imperial upon the forehead of a dusky queen. The outer surface of the dome and of the twelve petal courts is covered 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 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 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 curves something like that of St Paul’s in London, only at a slighter angle, and from the -like opening at the exact 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 to the heart. In every 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 . 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 female winged forms, shaped and draped. These figures, which are slightly larger than life-size, stand with heads in an attitude of , 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 , 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 loophole stream the first beams of the rising sun, and strike right across the circle, 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 empty and 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 , 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 art might learn something from the Zu-Vendi masterpieces. I can only say that the 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 .
 
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 we were conducted into one of the ray or ‘petal’ courts, as the priests call them, and there left for at least half-an-hour. Here we conferred together, and realizing that we stood in great danger of our lives, , if any attempt should be made upon us, to sell them as dearly as we could—Umslopogaas announcing his fixed intention of committing sacrilege on the person of Agon, the High Priest, by splitting his head with Inkosi-kaas. From where we stood we could perceive that an immense multitude were pouring into the temple, evidently in expectation of some unusual event, and I could not help fearing that we had to do with it. And here I may explain that every day, when the sunlight falls upon the central altar, and the sound, a burnt sacrifice is offered to the Sun, consisting generally of the carcase of a sheep or ox, or sometimes of fruit or corn. This event comes off about midday; of course, not always exactly at that hour, but as Zu-Vendis is not far from the Line, although—being so high above the sea it is very temperate—midday and the falling of the sunlight on the altar were generally simultaneous. Today the sacrifice was to take place at about eight minutes past twelve.
 
Just at twelve o’clock a pr............