Upon a certain occasion, the particulars of which have already beenrecorded, Ling had judged himself to have passed into the form of aspirit on beholding the ethereal form of Mian bending over him. Afterswallowing the entire liquid, which had cost the dead magician so muchto distil and make perfect, it was with a well-assured determination ofnever again awakening that he lost the outward senses and floated in theMiddle Air, so that when his eyes next opened upon what seemed to bethe bare walls of his own chamber, his first thought was a naturalconviction that the matter had been so arranged either out of acharitable desire that he should not be overcome by a too suddentransition to unparalleled splendour, or that such a reception was theoutcome of some dignified jest on the part of certain lesser and morecheerful spirits. After waiting in one position for several hours,however, and receiving no summons or manifestation of a celestialnature, he began to doubt the qualities of the liquid, and applyingcertain tests, he soon ascertained that he was still in the lower worldand unharmed. Nevertheless, this circumstance did not tend in any wayto depress his mind, for, doubtless owing to some hidden virtue ofthe fluid, he felt an enjoyable emotion that he still lived; all hisattributes appeared to be purified, and he experienced an inspiredcertainty of feeling that an illustrious and highly-remunerative futurelay before one who still had an ordinary existence after being bothofficially killed and self-poisoned.
In this intelligent disposition thoughts of Mian recurred to him withunreproved persistence, and in order to convey to her an account of thevarious matters which had engaged him since his arrival at the city, anda well-considered declaration of the unchanged state of his own feelingstowards her, he composed and despatched with impetuous haste thefollowing delicate verses: