beautiful
crystal light. The heavens looked like shining silver, all around the
horizon was a wide cloud of clear light blue, with a border of gold.
Beneath was a broad expanse of green, with large groves of trees at
regular intervals dressed in a deeper shade. Through these were
meandering streams or rivers as of clear glass. Clear cut avenues ran
through at regular spaces from stream to stream, on the borders of which
(avenues and rivers) were thousands of jasper wigwams, sitting and
standing, at the front of each were Indians of all ages, dressed in pure
white and ornamented with precious stones of various hues. Rising above
the blue border of the sky, slowly and majestically, a new sun was
beaming. On its face stood Paul Guidon, in a dress of glistening
whiteness. The dress was after the pattern of that of an Indian chief.
Out of his right shoulder rose a red cross slanting slightly outward, on
the top of which stood an angel slightly inclining foreward. In his
right hand he held a wreath made of flowers most pure and white, inside
of which in letters of light blue, was the word Love. Out of his left
shoulder, in the same direction, rose a staff of deep blue, to which was
attached a drooping silver flag crossed with bars of gold. (Its pattern
was like the one placed in his grave.) On the top of the staff rested a
dove, holding in its beak a wreath, composed of rainbow shades, circling
the word Peace in letters whiter than snow. As the new sun continued to
rise, the jewelled sky increased in dazzling brilliancy, ten thousand
gems of shining gold shot out, and ten thousand sapphires too, all
glistening gloriously in the new light. The jasper tents on the
everlasting hunting grounds, and the motionless streams were brightning
with living flame. Thousands of Indians, strong and fair, in countless
groupings, seemed, to surpass even the sky itself in their glittering
starry dress.

Paul Guidon appeared to move his head forward as the star-paved sky
increased in burning brightness, till overpowered by the lustre shining,
and dazzled by the increasing brilliancy. Little Mag fell to the floor
and awoke in the darkened room. As she was in the act of falling the
faint sound of distant music, mingled with the noise of far away rushing
waters, seemed to fall upon her ears, increasing in strength and melody
as she touched the floor.

If Milman's lines had been written or known at the time of Mag's dream,
they could have been m