Oh! father, it was a vision of seraphic beauty, such as the eye of man hath seldom seen!" "And such only as it is permitted the elect of Heaven to see," observed Garnet.
"Alas! father," rejoined Guy Fawkes, "I can lay little claim to such an epithet.

Nay, I begin to fear that I have incurred the displeasure of Heaven." "Think not so, my son," replied Garnet, uneasily.

"Relate your vision, and I will interpret it to you." "Thus then it was, father," returned Fawkes.

"The figure of the saint arose from out the well, and gliding towards me laid its finger upon my brow.

My eyes opened, but I was as one oppressed with a nightmare, unable to move.