Before long, the city streets vanished from my sight, and I seemed to be approaching a strange part of the country; houses and warehouses disappeared, sunny glades and shady nooks came into view; forest trees, clothed with garments of living green, beneath which tiny flowerets nodded their spicy heads, and scented the balmy air with their rich perfume.
Away to the left I perceived the azure gleam of dimpling, sparkling waters; in the distance, towered the lofty peaks of purple-crested mountains; the sun shone brightly in the heavens, while the atmosphere became melodious with the hum of insects and the chirping of birds. No sound nor sight of human life could I perceive; all was silent, save the murmurings of nature, which fell upon my tortured being like an anthem of peace.
“Surely,” said I to myself, “this must be another country; it is entirely different from any I have ever seen before; the atmosphere wears that peculiar, transparent haze seen only in the lands of a Southern clime.”
But I was too weary for further cognitions. I seemed to drink in the charm and beauty of the scene without any volition of will or thought, and to find comfort and rest in so doing.
At last, I descried a perfect gem of a spot, one that appeared formed for a fairy bower; just beyond a leaping, laughing streamlet of limpid water, nestling quietly at the foot of a moss-covered, arch-shaped rocky wall, I beheld a tiny cove, so beautiful that it seemed almost sacrilege to intrude therein.
Emerald banks, as beautiful as silk pile velvet, starred with a profusion of creamy golden-eyed blossoms; trailing vines like maiden-hair ferns creeping over the rocks; shrubs of vivid green, with scarlet bells, swinging their perfumed censers upon the breeze; sparkling sunbeams and cooling shadows, constituted a place of repose that a monarch might enjoy.
And there, amid the beauties of Nature’s works, surrounded by the splendors of creation, pointing to the wondrous power and beneficence of God, I sank down upon the emerald sod; and, lulled by the peace and quiet of the place, my fevered senses grew calm, my pulses even, the blood cooled in my veins, and I fell into as complete a slumber as it is possible for a disembodied spirit to experience.
I was unconscious of the lapse of time, yet I now know it was several days before I again awoke to a knowledge of my external surroundings.
I was still alone; no human presence could I discern; the flowers still bloomed, the waters danced and gleamed, the sun shone, and all was as beautiful and as real as before. It appeared to me I had reposed there but a few short hours.
I aroused myself, and, stepping down to the banks of the stream, proceeded to lave my face and hands, precisely as I would have done were I in the body. The water refreshed me. I seemed renewed with life and vigor; but with the new strength there also came a remembrance of what I had been, and what I had done, and I sank down upon the mossy bed overwhelmed with the recollection of my folly and madness.