“All that, of evil or false, by thee Hath ever been known or seen, Shall melt away in this cup, and be Forgot, as it never had been!” Unwilling to throw a slight on this strange ceremony, I leaned forward, with all due gravity, and tasted the cup; which I had no sooner done than the young cup‐bearer, on the other side, invited my attention, and, in his turn, presenting the chalice which he held, sung, with a voice still sweeter than that of his companion, the following strain:— “Drink of this cup—when Isis led Her boy, of old, to the beaming sky, She mingled a draught divine, and said— ‘Drink of this cup, thou’lt never die!’ “Thus do I say and sing to thee, Heir of that boundless heav’n on high, Though frail, and fall’n, and lost thou be, Drink of this cup, thou’lt never die!” Much as I had endeavoured to keep my philosophy on its guard, against the illusions with which, I knew, this region abounded, the young cup‐bearer had here touched a spring of imagination, over which, as has been seen, my philosophy had but little controul. No sooner had the words, “thou shalt never die,” struck on my ear, than the dream of the Garden came fully to my mind, and, starting half‐way from the couch, I stretched forth my hands to the cup. Recollecting myself, however, and fearful of having betrayed to others a weakness only fit for my own secret indulgence, with an affected smile of indifference I sunk back again on my couch,—while the young minstrel, but little interrupted by my movement, still continued his strain, of which I heard but the concluding words:— “And Memory, too, with her dreams shall come, Dreams of a former, happier day, When Heaven was still the Spirit’s home, And her wings had not yet fallen away; “Glimpses of glory, ne’er forgot, That tell, like gleams on a sunset sea, What once hath been, what now is not, But, oh, what again shall brightly be!” Though the assurances of immortality, contained in these verses, would, at any other moment,—vain and visionary as I thought them,—have sent my fancy wandering into reveries of the future, the effort of self‐control I had just made enabled me to hear them with indifference. Having gone through the form of tasting this second cup, I again looked anxiously to the Hierophant, to ascertain whether I might be permitted to rise. His assent having been given, the young pages brought to my couch a robe and tunic, which, like their own, were of linen of the purest white; and having assisted to clothe me in this sacred garb, they then placed upon my head a chaplet of myrtle, in which the symbol of Initiation, a golden grasshopper, was seen shining out from among the dark leaves.