And he stood up and stretched out his hand before him; and when he
stood up, all that was there, great and small, bowed down with a sighing
sound; and a dread came on my heart, and he looked at me, and I could
not speak. I felt I was his own, to do what he liked with, for I knew at
once who he was; and he said, 'If you promise to return, you may depart
for a season;' and the voice he spoke with was terrible and mournful,
and the echoes of it went rolling and swelling down the endless cave,
and mixing with the trembling of the fire overhead; so that when he sat
down there was a sound after him, all through the place, like the
roaring of a furnace. And I said, with all the strength I had, 'I
promise to come back--in God's name let me go!' "And with that I lost the sight and the hearing of all that was there,
and when my senses came to me again, I was sitting in the bed with the
blood all over me, and you and the rest praying around the room." Here he paused, and wiped away the chill drops which hung upon his
forehead. I remained silent for some moments. The vision which he had just
described struck my imagination not a little, for this was long before
Vathek and the "Hall of Eblis" had delighted the world; and the
description which he gave had, as I received it, all the attractions of
novelty beside the impressiveness which always belongs to the narration
of an _eye-witness_, whether in the body or in the spirit, of the scenes
which he describes. There was something, too, in the stern horror with
which the man related these things, and in the incongruity of his
description with the vulgarly received notions of the great place of
punishment, and of its presiding spirit, which struck my mind with awe,
almost with fear. At length he said, with an expression of horrible,
imploring earnestness, which I shall never forget,--

"Well, sir, is there any hope; is there any chance at all? or is my soul
pledged and promised away for ever? is it gone out of my power? must I
go back to the place?" In answering him, I had no easy task to perform; for however clear
might be my internal conviction of the groundlessness of his fears, and
however strong my scepticism respecting the reality of what he had
described, I nevertheless felt that his impression to the contrary, and
his humility and terror resulting from it, might be made available as no
mean engines in the work of his conversion from profligacy, and of his
restoration to decent habits and to religious feeling. I therefore told him that he was to regard his dream rather in the light
of a warning than in that of a prophecy; that our salvation depended not
upon the word or deed of a moment, but upon the habits of a life; that,
in fine, if he at once discarded his idle companions and evil habits,
and firmly adhered to a sober, industrious, and religious course of
life, the powers of darkness might claim his soul in vain, for that
there were higher and firmer pledges than human tongue could utter,
which promised salvation to him who should repent and lead a new life. I left him much comforted, and with a promise to return upon the next
day. I did so, and found him much more cheerful, and without any remains
of the dogged sullenness which I suppose had arisen from his despair. His promises of amendment were given in that tone of deliberate
earnestness which belongs to deep and solemn determination; and it was
with no small delight that I observed, after repeated visits, that his
good resolutions, so far from failing, did but gather strength by time;
and when I saw that man shake off the idle and debauched companions
whose society had for years formed alike his amusement and his ruin, and
revive his long-discarded habits of industry and sobriety, I said within
myself, There is something more in all this than the operation of an
idle dream. One day, some time after his perfect restoration to health, I was
surprised, on ascending the stairs for the purpose of visiting this
man, to find him busily employed in nailing down some planks upon the
landing-place, through which, at the commencement of his mysterious
vision, it seemed to him that he had sunk. I perceived at once that he
was strengthening the floor with a view to securing himself against such
a catastrophe, and could scarcely forbear a smile as I bid "God bless
his work." He perceived my thoughts, I suppose, for he immediately said:

"I can never pass over that floor without trembling. I'd leave this
house if I could, but I can't find another lodging in the town so cheap,
and I'll not take a better till I've paid off all my debts, please God;
but I could not be asy in my mind till I made it as safe as I could. You'll hardly believe me, your honour, that while I'm working, maybe a
mile away, my heart is in a flutter the whole way back, with the bare
thoughts of the two little steps I have to walk upon this bit of a
floor. So it's no wonder, sir, I'd thry to make it sound and firm with
any idle timber I have." I applauded his resolution to pay off his debts, and the steadiness with
which he perused his plans of conscientious economy, and passed on. Many months elapsed, and still there appeared no alteration in his
resolutions of amendment. He was a good workman, and with his better
habits he recovered his former extensive and profitable employment. Everything seemed to promise comfort and respectability. I have little
more to add, and that shall be told quickly. I had one evening met Pat
Connell, as he returned from his work, and as usual, after a mutual, and
on his side respectful salutation, I spoke a few words of encouragement
and approval. I left him industrious, active, healthy--when next I saw
him, not three days after, he was a corpse. The circumstances which marked the event of his death were somewhat
strange--I might say fearful. The unfortunate man had accidentally met
an old friend just returned, after a long absence; and in a moment of
excitement, forgetting everything in the warmth of his joy, he yielded
to his urgent invitation to accompany him into a public house, which lay
close by the spot where the encounter had taken place. Connell, however,
previously to entering the room, had announced his determination to take
nothing more than the strictest temperance would warrant. But oh! who can describe the inveterate tenacity with which a drunkard's
habits cling to him through life? He may repent, he may reform, he may
look with actual abhorrence upon his past profligacy; but amid all this
reformation and compunction, who can tell the moment in which the base
and ruinous propensity may not recur, triumphing over resolution,
remorse, shame, everything, and prostrating its victim once more in all
that is destructive and revolting in that fatal vice? The wretched man left the place in a state of utter intoxication. He was
brought home nearly insensible, and placed in his bed.