Sometimes when I have been shut off from on is, and have for a little fotten to be restless, I get waking dreams, now faint and shadow-like, now vivid and solid-looking, like the material world under my feet. Whether they be faint or vivid, they are ever beyond the power of my will to alter in any way. They have their own will, and sweep hither and thither, and ge acc to its ands. One day I saw faintly an imme of blaess, round which went a circular parapet, and on this parapet sat innumerable apes eating precious stones out of the palms of their hands. The stones glittered green and crimson, and the apes devoured them with an insatiable hunger. I khat I saw the Celtic Hell, and my own Hell, the Hell of the artist, and that all who sought after beautiful and wonderful things with too avid a thirst, lost pead form and became shapeless and on. I have seen into other people』s hells also, and saw in one an infernal Peter, who had a black fad white lips, and who weighed on a curious double scales not only the evil deeds itted, but the good deeds left undone, of certain invisible shades. I could see the scales go up and down, but I could not see the shades who were, I knew, crowding about him. I saw on another occasion a quantity of demons of all kinds of shapes—fish-like, serpent-like, ape-like, and dog-like sitting about a black pit such as that in my own Hell, and looking at a moon—like refle of the Heavens which shone up from the depths of the pit.