And as I looked, I saw that this was not dust, but people coming in
crowds from the other side, but so small as to be visible at first
only as dust. And the people became musicians, and the mountainous
amphitheatre a huge orchestra, and the glaciers were two noble
armies of women-singers in white robes, ranged tier above tier
behind each other, and the pines became orchestral players, while
the thick dust-like cloud of chorus-singers kept pouring in through
the clefts in the precipices in inconceivable numbers. When I
turned my telescope upon them I saw they were crowded up to the
extreme edge of the mountains, so that I could see underneath the
soles of their boots as their legs dangled in the air. In the
midst of all, a precipice that rose from out of the glaciers shaped
itself suddenly into an organ, and there was one whose face I well
knew sitting at the keyboard, smiling and pluming himself like a
bird as he thundered forth a giant fugue by way of overture. I
heard the great pedal notes in the bass stalk majestically up and
down, like the rays of the Aurora that go about upon the face of
the heavens off the coast of Labrador. Then presently the people
rose and sang the chorus "Venus laughing from the skies;" but ere
the sound had well died away, I awoke, and all was changed; a light
fleecy cloud had filled the whole basin, but I still thought I
heard a sound of music, and a scampering-off of great crowds from
the part where the precipices should be. The music went thus:-
{10}

[At this point in the book a music score is given]

By and by the cantering, galloping movement became a trotting one,
thus:-