he perfect tranquillity of the sensorium is
interrupted. Hence, that sleep is the most refreshing, which is
undisturbed by dreams, or, at least, when we have the distinct
recollection of them. Most of our dreams are then nothing more than
sports of the fancy, and derive their origin chiefly from external
impressions; almost every thing we see and hear, when awake, leads our
imagination to collateral notions or representations, which, in a
manner, spontaneously, and without the least effort, associate with
external sensations. The place where a person whom we love formerly
resided, a dress similar to that which we have seen her wear, or the
objects that employed her attention, no sooner catch our eye, than she
immediately occupies our mind. And, though these images associating with
external sensations, do not arrive at complete consciousness within the
power of imagination, yet even in their latent state they may become
very strong and permanent.

Cicero furnishes us with a story of two Arcadians, who, travelling
together, arrived at Megara, a city of Greece, between Athens and
Corinth, where one of them lodged in a friend's house, and the other at
an inn. After supper, the person who lodged at the private house went to
bed, and falling asleep, dreamed that his friend at the inn appeared to
him and begged his assistance, because the innkeeper was going to kill
him. The man immediately got out of bed much frightened at the dream;
but recovering himself, and falling asleep again, his friend appeared to
him a second time, and desired that, as he would not assist him in time,
he would take care at least not to let his death go unpunished; that the
innkeeper having murdered him had thrown his body into a cart and
covered it with dung; he therefore begged that he would be at the city
gate in the morning, before the cart was out; struck with this new
dream, he went early to the gate, saw the cart, and asked the driver
what was in it; the driver immediately fled, the dead body was taken
out of the cart, and the innkeeper apprehended and executed.

It is very frequently observed, that in a dream a series of
representations is suddenly interrupted, and another series of a very
different kind occupies its place. This happens as soon as an idea
associates itself; which, from whatever cause, is more interesting than
that immediately preceding. The last then becomes the prevailing one,
and determines the association. Yet, by this too