The following is an account of what Mr. Savigny experienced in the beginning of the night.  His eyes closed in spite of himself, and he felt a general lethargy; in this situation the most agreeable images played before his fancy; he saw around him, a country covered with fine plantations, and he found himself in the presence of objects which delighted all his senses; yet he reasoned on his situation, and felt that courage alone would recover him from this species of trance; he asked the master gunner of the frigate for some wine:  who procured him a little; and he recovered in a degree from this state of torpor.  If the unfortunate men, when they were attacked by these first symptoms, had not had resolution to struggle against them, their death was certain.  Some became furious; others threw themselves into the sea, taking leave of their comrades with great coolness; some said “Fear nothing, I am going to fetch you assistance:  in a short time you will see me again.”  In the midst of this general madness, some unfortunate wretches were seen to rush upon their comrades with their sabres drawn, demanding the wing of a chicken, or bread to appease the hunger which devoured them; others called for their hammocks, “to go,” they said, “between the decks of the frigate and take some moments’ repose.”  Many fancied themselves still on board the Medusa, surrounded with the same objects which they saw there every day.  Some saw ships, and called them to their assistance, or a harbour, in the back ground of which there was a magnificent city.

Mr. Correard fancied he was travelling through the fine plains of Italy; one of the officers said to him, gravely, “I remember that we have been deserted by the boats; but fear nothing; I have just written to the governor, and in a few hours we shall be saved.” Mr. Correard replied in the same tone, and as if he had been in an ordinary situation, “Have you a pigeon to carry your orders with as much celerity?” The cries and the tumult soon roused us from the state in which we were plunged; but scarcely was tranquillity restored, when we sunk back into the same species of trance:  so that the next day we seemed to awake from a painful dream, and asked our companions if, during their sleep, they had seen combats and heard cries of despair.  Some of them replied that they had been continually disturbed by the same visions, and that they were exhausted with fatigue:  all thought themselves deceived by the illusions of a frightful dream.

When we recal to our minds those terrible scenes, they present themselves to our imagination like those frightful dreams which sometimes make a profound impression on us; so that, when we awake, we remember the different circumstances which rendered our sleep so agitated.  All these horrible events, from which we have escaped by a miracle, appear to us like a point in our existence:  we compare them with the fits of a burning fever,