“Oh! it was only a dream!” said Wooden Block, ironically; “and how foolish you were to be guided by a dream!”
“But the dream was so like a reality, that I could not fail to act according to it,” rejoined our hero.
“Oh, as for that,” added Wooden Block, “no one more than myself has dreamt things that resembled realities. I once in my sleep was visited by my guardian angel, who counselled me to go out of the city, and told me that beyond the suburbs of Mattenburg, on the right of the monastery of St John’s, I would find a garden situated in a retired spot. He directed me to look for a high apple-tree on the left hand, under which was a low bush; he told me to dig about ten feet deep under this bush, and said that I would thus possess treasures of gold, silver, and jewels, that would make all the rest of my life a season of perfect ease and enjoyment.”
“And did you obey the directions of your guardian angel?” said Francis, with breathless impatience.
“Not I, truly,” replied the soldier; “it was but an idle dream. If my guardian angel had had any good communication to make, he might have found me awake during many long nights before that time.”
Our hero had listened with the deepest interest
