The sickly lightning plays around me.
The thunder mutters--growls--rolls--peals forth--in grand ear-breaking crashes, that appear to shake the dense sky overhead; but still, whenever the electric coruscations light up the sable darkness, I can see Min's face, apparently ever before me, ever inviting me on, ever inapproachable! Anon, the boat glides back into the ocean again.

Soon after, I find myself floating amongst an army of icebergs, all glittering with distinct gradations of tint, from that of pale sea-green up to intense blue.

In front of me stretches a frozen field of hummocky ice, like that I had seen in my first vision.
There, too, stands Min.

The current is bearing me to her; but, again, ere I can touch the spot where she stands, my boat careens heavily against a drifting berg, and is dashed to pieces.
Instead of sinking in the water, however, I feel myself floating in air.
The atmosphere that encircles me is all rosy illumination, as it had been during the Alpine sunrise.

I hear the most beautiful, heavenly music, and the sound as of many voices singing together in the sweetest of harmonies.
I see the gilded domes and minarets of a wondrous city that seems to be built in the centre of the zenith.