My arguments, and my zeal, made some impression on the mind of my antagonist; and sunk so deeply into my own, that on my retiring to rest they gave rise to the following vision.

I was suddenly transported to the confines of a region, which astonished me by its loveliness and extent; it was called, The Paradise of true Glory.  As I approached the entrance, my eyes were delightfully fascinated by two beings of human form, who presided over the portal.  Their names were Genius and Sensibility:—­it was their office to gratify with a view of this Paradise every mortal that revered them sincerely; and to reject only such intruders as presumed to treat either the one or the other with the insolence of disdain, or the coldness of contempt:  an incident that I should have thought impossible, from the transcendent beauty which is visible in each; but, to my surprize, they informed me it very frequently happened.

As I readily paid them the unsuspected homage of my soul, I was graciously permitted to pass the gate.—­Immediately as I entered, I was saluted with a seraphic smile, by two benignant and inseparable Spirits:  these were Gratitude and Admiration, the joint rulers of the dominion—­“You are welcome,” said the first, in a tone of angelic tenderness—­“You are welcome to a scene utterly new to your senses, and in harmony with your heart:  you delight in the praises of the deserving:  and you are now wafted to a spot, where those who have merited highly of mankind are praised in proportion to their desert, and where the praise of exalted merit is fondly listened to by an extensive human audience, here purified by our supernatural agency from all the low and little jealousies of the earth.”

I had hardly answered this pleasing information by a grateful obeisance to my radiant informer, when I perceived, in a gorgeous prospect that now opened before us, three structures of stupendous size and superior magnificence.  The first was situated in a grove of olives, and appeared to me like an ancient temple of Attica, remarkable for massive strength, and a sober dignity—­the second was less solid, but richer in decoration; and seemed to be almost surrounded by every tree and plant on which Nature has bestowed any salutary virtue:  the third was shaded only by palms; the form of it was so wonderfully grand and aweful, that it struck me as a sanctuary for every pure and devout spirit from all the nations of the globe.

“These structures, that you survey with astonishment,” said one of my benevolent conductors, “are devoted to what you mortals denominate the three liberal professions, Law, Medicine, and Theology.  Whoever has a claim to distinguished honour from any one of the three, has a just encomium pronounced upon his services by the temporary President of that particular fabrick, in which he is entitled to such grateful remembrance.”  “Alas!” I replied, with a murmur that I could not suppress, “the Man whose well-deserved praises I most anxiously expected to hear in this region, belonged not to any one of these eminent classes in human life—­he had no profession but that of Humanity.”