1829.] Recollections of a Night of Fever. 485 
yet in the horrors of his presence, by some inexplicable shifting of the 
scene I was in Africa, and the past was as if it had never been. On 
every side, as far as the eye could reach, was sand—nothing but sand— 
hot and burning sand—which scorched the weary soles of the feet, as 
though I had been walking on molten lava. Suddenly the wind began 
to howl, and at its voice the fiery mass rolled, and swelled, and surged, 
and was lifted up as the storm lifts up the sea; but its waves were more 
like mountains. Then again the unstable mass formed itself into moving 
columns, and these giants of the desert traversed, or rather swept, the 
waste with a speed that made flight hopeless. But I was not fated to 
perish by them. They rolled around me harmless, and, in less than what 
seemed an hour, all was again calm, and the sun sunk down upon 
silence—a silence that was lifeless! 
-A raging thirst tormented me. But no stream was near in the moon- 
light expanse, and the night of the desert had no dews to moisten my 
parched lips. Had any benevolent genius stood before me, with an 
offered diadem in one hand, and a glass of fair water in the other, I had 
rejected empire, and snatched at the more humble boon with rapture. 
‘The pains of fire or of steel—and I had felt both within the last few 
hours—were nothing to the torments of this terrible thirst: it drank my 
very life-blood. 
In the midst of this unutterable agony, I heard, or thought I heard, 
the rushing of water. Strange that I had not seen it before! Within 
a hundred yards of me was an oasis, or island of the desert, covered with 
‘a grove of palms, and a remarkable sort of tree, for which I knew no 
name ; but it breathed a fragrance sweeter than all the spicy gales of 
Araby the Blessed: yet still sweeter to my fancy was the little crystal 
spring that bubbled from the turf beneath, sparkling, and leaping along 
over stone and pebble, as if rejoicing in the soft moonlight. If ever there 
was bliss on earth, it was mine for that brief moment when my eyes first 
‘fell upon the stream. But, like every joy beneath the sun, it proved a 
shadow, an insubstantial vapour, fading the very instant it was grappled 
with. When I would have drunk, all was mist and confusion ; and 
then, for awhile, my troubled fancy slept. 
There was a blank in my existence—for aught I know for hours. Had 
I been dead, the mind and body could not have been wrapt in a repose 
more deep or senseless. 
After atime, it seemed to me as if I awoke from a long, long slumber, 
all that had passed shewing to my memory rather as the dream of sleep 
‘than of delirium. On this awaking, I had a distinct perception that I 
‘was in my bed-room, dangerously ill, if not dying. Buta great change 
had taken place since ten o’clock. In the middle of the chamber was 
an unfinished coffin, supported by tressels, on which several funereal 
figures were busily at work, driving in the nails, that were yet deficient, 
with huge sledge-hammers. Their blows fell fast as hailstones, striking 
forth a continued stream of fire, the only light they had.to work by ; and 
‘it lent a horrid hue to their faces, such as belongs to the dead rather than 
| the living. 
It was a ghastly sight for a sick man to see these creatures employed 
pon his own coffin ; for that it was intended for me, I knew too well 
—how, or whence, I cannot say—but the conviction was as strong upon 
me as if I had read my own name upon the lid. The hag of a aurse, 
‘too !—she who was paid to watch over my sickness—to guard m from 
