of the fate of the Jewish nation to the predictions of our Saviour; I had likewise been reading Gibbon’s eulogy of Julian, and his account of the attempts made by that Emperor to rebuild the temple:  so that the dream at such a time and in such a place was not an unnatural occurrence.  Yet it was so vivid, and the image of the subject of it so peculiar, that it long affected my imagination, and whenever I recurred to it, strengthened my faith.

Onu.—­I believe all the narratives of apparitions and ghost stories are founded upon dreams of the same kind as that which occurred to you:  an ideal representation of events in the local situation, in which the person is at the moment, and when the imaginary picture of the place in sleep exactly coincides with its reality in waking.

The Stranger.—­I agree with you in your opinion.  If my servant had not been with me, and my dream had been a little less improbable, it would have been difficult to have persuaded me that I had not been visited by an apparition.

I mentioned the dream of Brutus, and said, “His supposed evil genius appeared in his tent; had the philosophical hero dreamt that his genius had appeared to him in Rome, there could have been no delusion.”  I cited the similar vision, recorded of Dion before his death, by Plutarch, of a gigantic female, one of the fates or furies, who was supposed to have been seen by him when reposing in the portico of his palace.  I referred likewise to my own vision of the beautiful female, the guardian angel of my recovery, who always seemed to me to be present at my bedside.

Amb.—­In confirmation of this opinion of Onuphrio, I can mention many instances.  I once dreamt that my door had been forced, that there were robbers in my room, and that one of them was actually putting his hand before my mouth to ascertain if I was sleeping naturally.  I awoke at this moment, and was some minutes before I could be sure whether it was a dream or a reality.  I felt the pressure of the bedclothes on my lips, and still in the fear of being murdered continued to keep my eyes closed and to breathe slowly, till, hearing nothing and finding no motion, I ventured to open my eyes; but even then, when I saw nothing, I was not sure that my impression was a dream till I had risen from my bed and ascertained that the door was still locked.

Onu.—­I am the only one of the party unable to record any dreams of the vivid and peculiar nature you mention from my own experience; I conclude it is owing to the dulness of my imagination.  I suppose the more intense power of reverie is a symptom of the poetical temperament; and perhaps, if I possessed more enthusiasm, I should always have possessed more of the religious instinct.  To adopt the idea of Philalethes of hereditary character, I fear my forefathers have not been correct in their faith.

Amb.—­Your glory will be greater in establishing a new character, and I trust even the conversation of this day has given you an additional reason to adopt our faith.