on his return, to give a description of what he heard and saw. In paradise he heard and saw, he says, unspeakable things, which it is not lawful or possible for man to utter. He makes no allusion to heaven, as though it was too awfully grand and glorious for him even to refer to. How ineffectually has St. John, in the Revelations, described his vision or dream; nor was St. Stephen, to whom the heavens were opened, and he permitted to see the glory of God, and "Jesus standing at the right hand of God," able to describe the splendour and magnificence of the scene. These are all miracles-visions, which these chosen persons were allowed to behold, but not to represent by any human words. It is not, indeed, in the power of any earth-born language to convey a notion of such glorious wonders. It would require something more than human intellect to bring them within the limit of our comprehension. STEWART. The word unspeakable may be rendered secret, and the words of St. Paul read thus-"I heard things which neither can, nor ought to be described." It is impossible for mortal man to comprehend so much as the nature and joys of a redeemed spirit, much less the splendour of the heavenly temple. I have as little power to depict to you the glories of an invisible state as Paul, Peter, and John had. PHRENOLOGIST. It was the opinion of Grotius that no inferior being could comprehend one exalted above himself, unless, indeed, the superior revealed the nature of his own elevation. STEWART. From experience I find that an idea of this elevation is not communicable. I cannot describe to you explicitly in what consists our enjoyment. It is borrowed from a Source of whose attributes we know little; nor do we see whence radiate the beams which bring so much brightness, and such a perpetual light and inconceivable felicity to our element. Here "We talk of beauties which we never saw, Unable to judge of our own sensations so mysteriously delightful-incapable of understanding wherein consists the fulness of our joy, we cannot express what we feel; particularly when occasions call us to this globe, where the soaring of the intellect is not so brilliant and strong, nor the warmth of the affections so ardent and beatific. From the nature of this planet, it is perhaps as necessary that the faculties of man should be sustained and displayed by means of material parts, as that a sound should be propagated by means of air. But since the mind can live disjointed from its material tenement, as my own experience proves, it must, of necessity, be distinct in nature from that tenement, though not destined to exist or act on earth without it, unless it be sent from above. Through whatever media our sensations might have been produced on earth, they suffer abatement only in their violence and abuse when separated from such gross media. In my time there was an opinion, formed certainly on unsubstantial grounds, that the interval elapsing between death and the resurrection is to the soul a state of sleep. Inactivity, however, is a property not belonging to a spirit. C PHRENOLOGIST. It has been the opinion of sages of old-it is the opinion of some infidels of the present day, that the soul absolutely dies with the body. STEWART. To talk of the death of the soul, when there are so many direct testimonies to the contrary, is a proof of a debased heart.-But the evening being far spent, we will leave this subject till another opportunity offer for our meeting. Meanwhile, learn to look upon me as a welcome visitor, friendly to you, individually, and well-disposed towards the whole human race. Till then adieu ! At that instant my companion vanished from my sight. His disappearance was not the least remarkable part of this singular phenomenon. He was gone-I knew not whither nor how: his departure was momentary—instantaneous. He had conversed with me as one human; but he left me like one who had omnipotence at his command. Now visible, now invisible "And what seemed corporeal "Melted as breath into the wind." The inimitable Burns has compared sensual pleasure "To snow that falls upon a river "A moment white-then gone for ever!" This disappearance of snow may convey a pretty accurate notion of my visitor's vanishing. The change was as rapid as a flash of lightning, without occasioning the slightest commotion in the air, or any perceptible altera tion in any thing except my own feelings, which were indescribable. I was not prepared for an event so sudden, for a mutation so abrupt. I felt, for a moment, inconsolable at the loss, for he seemed a newly-acquired friend -one whose experience I could trust, and from whom consolation might be derived: and yet an occasional sensation of fear intermingled itself with my hopes and sympathies, sufficient to disturb my repose, and sometimes dark enough to cast a gloom into those avenues which were wont to afford comfort and relief. To think, was to become entangled in a labyrinth more inextricable than ever-to disbelieve, was idle and impossible. Be it as it may, I determined to keep the matter a secret, lest perchance, by some strange fatality, I should be deceived; and lest the incredulous should ridicule, and think that insanity, instead of a ghost, had visited me.—' -The moon was throwing her beams on the verdant heath, the dark green foliage, the jutting rock. By her soft light I leisurely retraced my steps, and began to think of our next meeting, both longing and fearing to see my visitor again. COLLOQUY II. ON a fine evening, a little before sunset, I rambled towards the Valley of Rocks. It was the close of a lovely day, and from a distant dell was heard the little nightingale's wild and melodious song, which echoed and reechoed in the valley I had just reached. At the extreme end of this valley stands the Castle Rock, an insulated pile of stone, rugged and precipitous, rising loftily and abruptly to the height of three or four hundred feet from the beach which bounds the Bristol Channel. On the land-side its summit may be approached by a somewhat gradual slope. Here it is cut off from the main promontory by a ravine of half its depth, as though, in this ravine, which forms a sort of arm to the valley, there had at one period been a river which poured its contents into the sea below, thus forming, it may be conceived, a beautiful cascade. From this ravine, if such it may be called, a magnificent sea-view is presented to the eye. On either side rise towering pillars of rock; across the channel are perceived the Welch coast and mountains ; and a little to the left, at evening, the setting sun sinking below the horizon, and throwing its feeble rays on the still waters from which they are reflected, casting a light of varied hues and softness. This valley is known to the Devonians as the Valley of Rocks; it was formerly called |