I see him again, a second time, hovering in the air, and seeking for a resting-place. In a flowery meadow, by a river of clear water, he sees a maiden, eighteen years of age, among the kine, picking up some beautiful flowers, here and there. “Behold her,” says Apollyon, full of hellish joy; “I will poison her mind, and lead her astray from the paths of the Almighty enemy; I will make her a harlot, and will ultimately cast her over the precipice, until she sink for ever in the furnace of divine wrath.” He hastens down; and, approaching the maiden, finds her singing the following stanzas, in a heavenly, transporting frame of mind, and with a voice that might almost melt the rocks: “Unto the righteous will arrive, A day of rest serene, When to their joy they see the Lord, Without a vail between. “Then from the grave I shall arise, And take my joyful stand Among the saints who dwell on high, Received at God’s right hand.” “This place is too dry for me,” says the dragon, and off he flies. From the meadow he ascends like a great balloon, with renewed rage, blowing smoke and fire from his mouth, and threatening damnation to all creation. “I will have a place to rest and dwell in,” says Apollyon, “in spite of the purpose, covenant, and grace of God!” With this he espies an aged woman, sitting at the door of her cot, and spinning on her little wheel. “Ah, she is ripe for destruction,” says the dragon; “I will give her a taste of the burning gall of damnation, and will cast her into the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone.” With this he descends on the eaves of the cot, and hears the old woman, with a trembling voice, but with heavenly feelings, repeat the following beautiful passage: “For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed, but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee!” “This place is too dry for me,” says the dragon, and is off again. It might be thought that all these disappointments would discourage him from prosecuting his infernal designs farther; but not so: he is determined, if possible, to find a dwelling-place. For this purpose he rises again, to mark some spot where he may alight and find a welcome. He sees in a small village a neat and decent house of refreshment. “There,” says he, “will I dwell, and lead to bondage every one that shall cross the threshold, and make him fast in eternal fetters.’” He flies down like lightning, enters the house, and walks into the parlor; but there he finds a company of ministers of the New Testament, returning from an Association, who are talking about the victory of Calvary, and exchanging appointments with each other. The wicked spirit cannot stay within the sound of their voice, but retreats with hasty steps, muttering and growling as he goes,—“This place is too dry for me, I will return to my house from which I came out!”