ilver mist was
rising, and a gentle breeze somewhat alleviated the fever of my burning
brow, but my legs felt weak. I tottered on for half-a-mile further; here
I found a mile-stone and sat down to rest upon it. My reflections were
gloomy. My recollections of the previous night were painfully vivid. My
dream, my vision, my spiritual visitation, or whatever you like to call
it, did not vanish upon waking, like an ordinary dream, but remained
deeply rooted in my brain with fearful accuracy of detail. I recollected
word for word all the monster had uttered; recalled his tone of voice,
his remarkable shape--that curious and hideous blending of the
characteristics of the flea with the human form, the revolting, fiendish
ugliness of the _tout ensemble_, but above all, of that basilisk eye. My
blood ran cold as I thought of it.

"Have I then lived to hold converse with a being of the lower world?" I
muttered, to myself. "Am I awake, or is this but a continuation of the
dream?" I gave my arm a pinch, a hard twisted pinch, with all my might
and main, to ascertain if I were sleeping or waking, but the scene
before me remained the same, and my recollections of the past night were
as vivid as ever. I took off my hat to wipe my brow and let the cool
breeze play with my locks and about my heated temples. I gazed at the
smiling scene around me. What a contrast to the hell I bore within.

"O glorious orb!" I ejaculated, "author and vivifier of all nature,
through every grade of creation, illumine the haunted chambers of my
dark soul with thy golden beams; bring balm to my jaded spirit and renew
the bright hope of my earlier years. Give me strength to bear my
tottering limbs to the end of my pilgrimage; or, if that be not granted
me, take all there is left--take my life, great orb of day! Type of my
own once aspiring youth, quicken my flagging energies and breathe into
me new life, new hope, new strength."

Whilst thus apostrophising the rising sun, I experienced something like
the fire of my boyish days returning to my frame. I actually felt an
appetite. I rose from my seat considerably refreshed, and continued my
journey. I walked on with buoyant step; I had all but forgotten the
adventure of the past night. If it rose up before me again at intervals,
I speedily chased it from my mind.

At length I espied the village in the distance. Another half-mile led me
up to the door of "The Swan Inn." It was then about seven o'clock. A raw
c