cannot talk with you and come with us!" they clamored
on all sides. Their voices were like a full orchestra; besides, some had
instruments of music, upon which they improvised little songs to my
honor. I was fairly bewildered. Presently they formed a circle about me
and commenced whirling rapidly around and around. I felt as in a hammock
swayed by the wind; a dreamy lethargy stole over me, and I gradually
became unconscious; and thus, I am told, they bore me through the earth's
atmosphere, out in the stellar spaces, to a new world--a world not of the
earth, earthy, but the New Jerusalem which I had so often pictured to my
fancy.

A soft, pleasant breeze blowing directly upon my face, restored me to
consciousness. I opened my eyes, and, lo! I was reclining upon a divan in
a great pavilion. The friends whom I had previously recognized were
around me, some making magnetic passes over me, others engaged in
preparations for my comfort. Upon seeing me awaken, several friends
approached with flowers and fruits. The term "flowers," though a
beautiful appellation, gives but a faint idea of these marvellous
creations.

My attention was particularly attracted to one whose corolla was of deep
violet striped with gold, having long silvery filaments spreading out
from the cup in lines of light like the luminous trail of a comet.

In a state of delicious languor, I watched the varied wonders before me.
The pavilion, which was of silver lace or filagree woven in the most
exquisite patterns, was a hundred or more feet in circumference, and
adorned with open arches and columns on its several sides. These columns
and arches were of coral and gold, which contrasted with the silver
network, and the blossoms and foliage of curious plants and vines which
graced the interior, forming altogether a structure of singular elegance
and beauty.

Numberless forms like the fabled peris and gods of mythology glided in
and out of these arches, and approached me with offerings of welcome. One
blooming Venetian maiden presented me with a crystal containing a golden
liquid, which she said was the elixir of the poets and painters of her
nation. The name she gave it was "The Poet's Fancy," and she informed me
that it was distilled from a plant which fed upon or absorbed the
emanations which the active mentalities of these poetic beings exhaled.

This information was quite new to me, and gave me pleasure, as it
accorded with my ideas of correspondence.