Ode to August-In the Burlesque nuuuununu 28 The Turf shall be my fragrant Shrine«u~~~~~u Death of the Visitor. maın⌁ 319 THE VISITOR, OR, LITERARY MISCELLANY. No. I. VOL. II. THE VISITOR'S DREAM. WILL any thing, I wonder, be expected of me, by way of introduction to the second volume ?Why really I don't know," says one" It may be doubtful," observes a second-" Perhaps,” quoth a third, "it might be as well for thee to plump directly into thy articles at once, without attempting to cozen or wheedle the reader into expectations which it may not be in thy power to substantiate." This may be all very well, Gentlemen, but positively I have another opinion to consult, viz.my own! Now, suppose I should avoid the latter objection, by refraining from every thing which may excite unreasonable expectation; may I not, at the same time, gratify the other two, by-deciding for them. But, Reader, this is all really beside my purpose, I was merely about to relate a singular dream I had some time ago. I had retired to rest, the night was dark and tempestuous; popping out my candle, however, 【 seated myself by the window, listening for awhile to the music of the storm, which roared with mighty fury through the trees of an adjoining wood: intermitting flashes of lightning also bursting upon the surrounding darkness, only added horror to a scene, already impressive. In this state I had remained perhaps an hour; my first sensations had subsided, and I insensibly fell asleep. I imagined myself upon the borders of an expansive river, traversing with solitary step its rugged shore, against which the waves were dashing with considerable impetuosity, when suddenly a horse appeared, flying with the greatest swiftness upon the water; it came to me, I thought, and kneeling, invited me to a seat. I at first hesitated, considering its very questionable manner of appearing, and particularly on observing two wings upon its shoulders. With a view, however, to relieve the supposed ennui of my situation, I mounted, and away we flew with inconceivable velocity over earth and sea, mountain and valley, till it landed me in front of a building of stupendous magnitude, situated in the centre of an extensive and most beautiful plain. The door was opened, and I was invited to enter, by an aged porter, whose features, by the bye, very much reminded me of a portrait I had somewhere seen of a celebrated German commentator.-"You are welcome," said he, "to the Temple of the Genius of Literature."-I bowed obsequiously, and went in. The interior of the building was spacious and |