page,
nor could I think at all connectedly. Little by little my eyelids
closed; the book dropped from my nerveless hand; and in a few minutes I
was in a deep and tranquil slumber.

CHAPTER III.

THREE VISIONS.

Roses, roses! An interminable chain of these royal blossoms, red and
white, wreathed by the radiant fingers of small rainbow-winged
creatures as airy as moonlight mist, as delicate as thistledown! They
cluster round me with smiling faces and eager eyes; they place the end
of their rose-garland in my hand, and whisper, "FOLLOW!" Gladly I obey,
and hasten onward. Guiding myself by the fragrant chain I hold, I pass
through a labyrinth of trees, whose luxuriant branches quiver with the
flight and song of birds. Then comes a sound of waters; the riotous
rushing of a torrent unchecked, that leaps sheer down from rocks a
thousand feet high, thundering forth the praise of its own beauty as it
tosses in the air triumphant crowns of silver spray. How the living
diamonds within it shift, and change, and sparkle! Fain would I linger
to watch this magnificence; but the coil of roses still unwinds before
me, and the fairy voices still cry, "FOLLOW!" I press on. The trees
grow thicker; the songs of the birds cease; the light around me grows
pale and subdued. In the far distance I see a golden crescent that
seems suspended by some invisible thread in the air. Is it the young
moon? No; for as I gaze it breaks apart into a thousand points of vivid
light like wandering stars. These meet; they blaze into letters of
fire. I strain my dazzled eyes to spell out their meaning. They form
one word--HELIOBAS. I read it. I utter it aloud. The rose-chain breaks
at my feet, and disappears. The fairy voices die away on my ear. There
is utter silence, utter darkness,--save where that one NAME writes
itself in burning gold on the blackness of the heavens.

* * * * *

The interior of a vast cathedral is opened before my gaze. The lofty
white marble columns support a vaulted roof painted in fresco, from
which are suspended a thousand lamps that emit a mild and steady
effulgence. The great altar is illuminated; the priests, in glittering
raiment, pace slowly to and fro. The large voice of the organ,
murmuring to itself awhile, breaks forth in a shout of melody; and a
boy's clear, sonorous treble tones pierce the incense-laden air.
"Credo!"--and the silver, trumpet-like notes fall from the immense
height of