“Come, Frederika!  Dear Frederika! don’t stay gazing on that old body!  Leave friends who 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.  So I sipped the “Poet’s Fancy,” and imagined that its delicious, aromatic flavor vivified me like rays of sunshine.  If, previously, I had been charmed, I now certainly experienced a power of enjoyment and quickness of perception tenfold increased.