rested that night in an orange-grove, and awoke
refreshed, to begin their search while the bright morning-star was still
shining. At the break of day they arrived at lofty perpendicular rocks,
which, after pursuing a straight line, suddenly formed a right-angle.
Here the knight and his companion stopped, and turning to the east,
awaited the sunrise. At the moment when the glorious orb of day started
up from his couch, impatient to commence his course, the cavalier spoke:
"Open, thou gate of stone, for the hour has come, and the man." At these
words, with a noise like that of thunder, the rock was rent asunder, and
a wide passage was opened, through which the friends proceeded. It had
appeared to be a lofty chain of mountains, but they were soon at the
end of it, and came out into the open air. But an obstacle opposed
itself. A huge dragon, Ladon the terrible, reared up his hundred heads,
his eyes flashing fire and fury, his mouths emitting baleful flames and
pestilential breath, his tail, covered with metallic scales of green,
scarlet, and blue, coiling away to a great distance. The page drew his
sword; but the knight took a little black book and aimed it at the
volcanic heads. It was a Holy Book, and the names therein quenched the
threatening fire and quelled the rage of the monster, who sank back
exhausted upon the green sod, and slept the sleep of death. "That little
book can do more than the sword," remarked the cavalier.

They proceeded onward: the earthly Paradise was unfolded to their view;
the air was balmy, and laden with rich fragrance from the numberless
flowers around; but instead of filling the spirit with soft languor, and
indisposing the body to exertion, the gentle breezes imparted new vigor
to the frame, and the buoyant, hilarious feelings of early youth shot
through the veins, making the thoughtful eye sparkle, and giving to the
grave foot of saddened maturity the elasticity of childhood. A new,
unsuspected power of enjoyment was awakened in the bosom of the friends,
combining somewhat of the gladness of the child, and the ardor of the
youth--qualities, alas, how transitory!--with the appreciating taste and
refined feelings of riper years. Many faculties lie dormant in our
nature: the capacity for much higher happiness is one of them; and it
will be awakened in the breast of all the good in the Resurrection Morn.
They may have lain down to die, weary and heart sore, but they shall
find that "light is so