Dreams and Dream Stories | Page 5

the train. Holding tightly on to the rail by the carriage door, I began to
creep along the footboard towards the engine, hoping to find a chance

of dropping safely down on the line. Hand over hand I passed along in
this way from one carriage to another; and as I did so I saw by the light
within each carriage that the passengers had no idea of the fate upon
which they were being hurried. At length, in one of the compartments, I
saw you. "Come out!" I cried; "come out! Save yourself! In another
minute we shall be dashed to pieces!" You rose instantly, wrenched
open the door, and stood beside me outside on the footboard. The
rapidity at which we were going was now more fearful than ever. The
train rocked as it fled onwards. The wind shrieked as we were carried
through it. "Leap down," I cried to you; "save yourself! It is certain
death to stay here. Before us is an abyss; and there is no one on the
engine!" At this you turned your face full upon me with a look of
intense earnestness, and said, "No, we will not leap down. We will stop
the train." With these words you left me, and crept along the foot-board
towards the front of the train. Full of half angry anxiety at what seemed
to me a Quixotic act, I followed. In one of the carriages we passed I
saw my mother and eldest brother, unconscious as the rest. Presently
we reached the last carriage, and saw by the lurid light of the furnace
that the voice had spoken truly, and that there was no one on the engine.
You continued to move onwards. "Impossible! Impossible!" I cried; "It
cannot be done. O, pray, come away." Then you knelt upon the
footboard, and said,--"You are right. It cannot be done in that way; but
we can save the train. Help me to get these irons asunder." The engine
was connected with the train by two great iron hooks and staples. By a
tremendous effort, in making which I almost lost my balance, we
unhooked the irons and detached the train; when, with a mighty leap as
of some mad supernatural monster, the engine sped on its way alone,
shooting back as it went a great flaming trail of sparks, and was lost in
the darkness. We stood together on the footboard, watching in silence
the gradual slackening of the speed. When at length the train had come
to a standstill, we cried to the passengers, "Saved! Saved!" and then
amid the confusion of opening the doors and descending and eager
talking, my dream ended, leaving me shattered and palpitating with the
horror of it. --London, Nov. 1876.

II. The Wonderful Spectacles*

I was walking alone on the seashore. The day was singularly clear and
sunny. Inland lay the most beautiful landscape ever seen; and far off
were ranges of tall hills, the highest peaks of which were white with
glittering snows. Along the sands by the sea came towards me a man
accoutred as a postman. He gave me a letter. It was from you. It ran
thus:-- "I have got hold of the earliest and most precious book extant. It
was written before the world began. The text is easy enough to read;
but the notes, which are very copious and numerous, are in such minute
and obscure characters that I cannot make them out. I want you to get
for me the spectacles which Swedenborg used to wear; not the smaller
pair--those he gave to Hans Christian Andersen--but the large pair, and
these seem to have got mislaid. I think they are Spinoza's make. You
know he was an optical-glass maker by profession, and the best we
have ever had. See if you can get them for me." When I looked up after
reading this letter, I saw the postman hastening away across the sands,
and I cried out to him, "Stop! how am I to send the answer? Will you
not wait for it?" He looked round, stopped, and came back to me. "I
have the answer here," he said, tapping his letter-bag, "and I shall
deliver it immediately." ------------- * From another letter to the friend
mentioned in the note appended to the "Doomed Train."--(Author's
Note.) -------------
"How can you have the answer before I have written it?" I asked. "You
are making a mistake." "No," he said." In the city from which I come,
the replies are all written at the office, and sent out with the letters
themselves. Your reply is in my bag." "Let me see it," I said. He took
another letter from his wallet and gave it to me. I opened it, and read, in
my own handwriting,