No man who ever lived knows any more about the hereafter than you and I.

There might be a class of beings, human once, but now to humanity invisible, for whose scrutiny, and for whose refined appreciation of the beautiful, more especially than for our own, had been set in order by God the great landscape-garden of the whole earth.

And travellers, now, within that valley, Through the red-litten windows see Vast forms, that move fantastically To a discordant melody, While, like a ghastly rapid river, Through the pale door A hideous throng rush out forever And laugh — but smile no more.

Every moment of the night Forever changing places And they put out the star-light With the breath from their pale faces

The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame.

We allude to the short prose narrative, requiring from a half hour to one or two hours in its perusal

It is a happiness to wonder; -- it is a happiness to dream.