t; for he was never
seen or heard of in the neighborhood again.

A CHAPTER ON DREAMS.

When we picture to ourselves a person lying in a state of profound
sleep--the body slightly curved upon itself; the limbs relaxed; the head
reclining on its pillow; and eyelids closed--it is wonderful to think
what strange and startling imagery may be passing through the brain of
that apparently unconscious being. The events of his whole life may
hurry past him in dim obscurity; he may be revisited by the dead; he may
be transported into regions he never before beheld; and his ideas
visibly assuming phantasmal shapes, may hover round him like shadows
reflected from another and more spiritual state of existence.

Let us draw the curtains gently aside, and study the physiognomy of
sleep.

The countenance may, occasionally, be observed lighted up, as it were,
from within by a passing dream--its expression is frequently one of
peculiar mildness and benignity; the breathing may be slow, but it is
calm and uniform: the pulse not so rapid as in the waking state, but
soft and regular; the composure of the whole body may continue
trance-like and perfect. There is, indeed, no sign of innocence more
touching than the smile of a sleeping infant. But, suddenly, this state
of tranquillity may be disturbed; the dreamer changes his position and
become restless; he moans grievously--perhaps sobs--and tears may be
observed glimmering underneath his eyelids; his whole body now seems to
be shaken by some inward convulsion; but, presently, the strife abates;
the storm-cloud gradually passes; he stretches his limbs, opens his
eyes, and, as he awakes, daylight, in an instant, dispels the vision,
perhaps leaving not behind the faintest trace or recollection of a
single incident which occurred in this mysterious state.

But what are dreams? Whence come they? What do they portend? Not man
only, but all animals, it is presumed, dream, more or less, when they
are asleep. Horses neigh, and sometimes kick violently; cows, when
suckling their young calves, often utter piteous lowings; dogs bark in
suppressed tones, and, from the motions of their paws, appear to fancy
themselves in the field of the chase; even frogs, particularly during
summer, croak loudly and discordantly until midnight, and then retire,
and become silent. Birds also dream; and will sometimes, when
frightened, fall from their roosting-perch, or flutter about their cage,
in evident al