ent
and figures; then sepulchral marbles, carved more exquisitely than the
most beautiful I had ever known. The vision grew in extent, in
multiplicity of detail; presently I was regarding scenes of ancient
life--thronged streets, processions triumphal or religious, halls of
feasting, fields of battle. What most impressed me at the time was the
marvellously bright yet delicate colouring of everything I saw. I can
give no idea in words of the pure radiance which shone from every
object, which illumined every scene. More remarkable, when I thought of
it next day, was the minute finish of these pictures, the definiteness
of every point on which my eye fell. Things which I could not know,
which my imagination, working in the service of the will, could never
have bodied forth, were before me as in life itself. I consciously
wondered at peculiarities of costume such as I had never read of; at
features of architecture entirely new to me; at insignificant
characteristics of that by-gone world, which by no possibility could
have been gathered from books. I recall a succession of faces, the
loveliest conceivable; and I remember, I feel to this moment the pang
of regret with which I lost sight of each when it faded into darkness.

As an example of the more elaborate visions that passed before me, I
will mention the only one which I clearly recollect. It was a glimpse
of history. When Hannibal, at the end of the second Punic War, was
confined to the south of Italy, he made Croton his head-quarters, and
when, in reluctant obedience to Carthage, he withdrew from Roman soil,
it was at Croton that he embarked. He then had with him a contingent of
Italian mercenaries, and, unwilling that these soldiers should go over
to the enemy, he bade them accompany him to Africa. The Italians
refused. Thereupon Hannibal had them led down to the shore of the sea,
where he slaughtered one and all. This event I beheld. I saw the strand
by Croton; the promontory with its temple; not as I know the scene
to-day, but as it must have looked to those eyes more than two thousand
years ago. The soldiers of Hannibal doing massacre, the perishing
mercenaries, supported my closest gaze, and left no curiosity
unsatisfied. (Alas! could I but see it again, or remember clearly what
was shown tome!) And over all lay a glory of sunshine, an indescribable
brilliancy which puts light and warmth into my mind whenever I try to
recall it. The delight of these phantasms was