GARIBALDI'S DREAM.
[TO THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."]
SIR,—Perhaps Garibaldi's dream, just now published for the first time, may be interesting to those readers who are collect- ing remarkable dreams :— EXTRACTED FROM GUIZONI'S "LIFE OF GARIBALDI."
"I was ill with rheumatism, and in the midst of the storm I fell asleep in my cabin, having lain down over the coverlid. In sleep ] was transported to my native place, but instead of the heavenly air of Nice, where everything bore a smiling aspect, I found myself in the gloomy atmosphere of a cemetery. In the distance, I perceived a melancholy procession of women carrying a bier, and they ad- vanced slowly towards me. I felt a fatal presentiment, and struggled to approach the funeral train, but I could not move. I seemed to have a mountain upon my chest. The cortege reached the side of my couch, laid down the bier, and vanished. I sought in vain to raise myself on my arms. I was under the terrible influence of a nightmare ; and when I began to move, and feel beside me the cold form of a corpse, and recognise my mother's blessed face, 1 was awake, but on my hand there remained the impression of an ice-cold hand. The mournful howling of the tempest, ancl the groans of the poor 'Carmen ' beaten unmercifullyagainst the shore, could not entirely dissipate the effects of my terrible dream. On that day, and in that hour, I lost my parent, the best of mothers."
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