"But when that time is ended, Return here and remain A thousand years in torment, A thousand years in pain; Thus dearly must you purchase The comfort he will gain." The lime-trees shade at evening Is spreading broad and wide; Beneath their fragrant arches Pace slowly, side by side, In low and tender converse, A Bridegroom and his Bride. The night is calm and stilly, No other sound is there Except their happy voices:-- What is that cold bleak air That passes through the lime-trees, And stirs the Bridegroom's hair? While one low cry of anguish, Like the last dying wail Of some dumb, hunted creature, Is borne upon the gale-- Why dogs the Bridegroom shudder And turn so deathly pale? Near Purgatory's entrance The radiant Angels wait; It was the great St. Michael Who closed that gloomy gate, When the poor wandering spirit Came back to meet her fate. "Pass on," thus spoke the Angel: "Heaven's joy is deep and vast; Pass on, pass on, poor spirit, For Heaven is yours at last; In that one minute's anguish, Your thousand years have passed." GENÉRADE, THE FRIEND OF ST. AUGUSTINE. J. COLLIN DE PLANCY. ST. AUGUSTINE reckoned among his friends the physician Genérade, highly honored in Carthage, where his learning and skill were much esteemed. But by one of those misfortunes of which there are, unhappily, but too many examples, while studying the admirable mechanism of the human body, he had come to believe matter capable of the works of intelligence which raise man so far above other created beings. He was, therefore, a materialist; and St. Augustine praying for him, earnestly besought God to enlighten that deluded mind. One night while he slept, this doctor, who believed, as some do still, that "when one is dead, all is dead"--we quote their own language--saw in his dreams a young man, who said to him: "Follow me." He did so, and was conducted to a city, wherein he heard, on the right, unknown melodies, which filled him with admiration. What he heard on the left he never remembered. But on awaking he concluded, from this vision, that there was, somewhere, something else besides this world. Another night he likewise beheld in sleep the same young man, who said to him: "Knowest thou me?" "Very well," answered Genérade. "And wherefore knowest thou me?" "Because of the journey we made together when you showed me the city of harmony." "Was it in a dream, or awake, that you saw and heard what struck you then?" "It was in a dream." "Where is your body now?" "In my bed." "Knowest thou well that thou now seest nothing with the eyes of the body?" "I know it." "With what eyes, then, dost thou see me?" As the physician hesitated, and could not answer, the young man said to him: