This I fear, that you will not open your eyes to see this important work until the sealing time, and God speaks himself; but I cannot but still hope that your “shout for very joy,” will be one of triumph and redemption. Several nights before I saw your dream, I had finished writing your letter, I presented the subject of my work before the Lord again, for wisdom to direct me in all that I had, or may write for the benefit of his children, and the vindication of his word. And that I may do so, I asked for a dream, vision, or any way that was consistent with his will to instruct me. The next thing, as near as I can now recollect, was the following Dream. A great tumult behind me, with corresponding commotion in the heavens, so fully confirmed me that the Lord Jesus was coming, that I began to sing and rejoice; very soon the people began to assemble around me. They wanted to hear my opinion about the coming of the Lord. I felt no spirit of communication; my work seemed to be done, except to answer a few questions put to me by one or two out of a great number of backslidden adventists that seemed to be engaged in almost _any_ thing but the work of God. This scene soon changed, and I was in meeting with a large assembly of worshippers. The speaker arose and pointed to a man that he said was under _conviction_; he seemed very anxious that I should see him. The congregation seemed to have a oneness with the speaker looking at him and myself. I looked, and although the man’s head was resting on the railing of the seat, I perceived that it was an old neighbor of mine, who had lived and _died_ a Universalist, several years ago. The preacher’s theme, and whole labor, was, look! behold! this man is under _conviction_! I thought if they knew the man as well as I did, their wonder would soon cease. No other effect was produced, by this effort, other than to remind me of the extra exertions that had been made by the leading professed adventists since the spring of 1845, to prove that God was converting souls under their labors. Here the scene changed again, the house was cleared, and the seats laid away. The room now appeared very large, with a high stage at one end, on which I was standing with an instrument like a mallet in my hand, knocking off the top of a large box. A few spectators on one side, and a large fleshy man, the owner of the box, on the other, apparently very unwilling for me to open it. But it seemed a clear duty that I was fully authorized to examine all contraband goods, and therefore there was no resistance. As the top of the box flew off, this man eagerly seized two or three bottles apparently filled with water and hugged them close to him, silently waiting the result of the examination. The box was about one-third full of what appeared to be wooden feet and legs—it seemed as though they