278 // Chapter on Dreams. [MARCH, 



and overwhelming interest, this is sure to become the ftieme of dreaming ; 

 e.g. a man is condemned to die on this day fortnight. Instead of 

 meditating on the interesting fact quotidie quotnoctibusque behold, his 

 excursive imagination can settle on any subject except that of his approach- 

 ing dissolution, and lead him many an ignis-fatuus dance to scenes of past 

 gaiety and happiness. Witness the case of Thurtell, to which I alluded 

 at the commencement of this article. So it is with myself. When my 

 mind has been hourly, daily, and monthly fixed in intense contem- 

 plation on some object of high concernment, I have been amazed to think 

 that I have never once dreamed of it ; whilst, on the contrary, a casual 

 and almost imperceptible impression received in the day-time, has afforded 

 occupation to my erratic fancy all the night long. I have been frequently 

 puzzled by this anomaly. 



It so came to t pass, that, once upon a time, 1 was sitting pen- 

 sively in my study. The wind blustered without, and the rain spit on the 

 closed shutters, as though envious of the merry blazing fire, whose comfortable 

 light flickered fitfully over many a solemn folio ranged around. On my 

 desk lay an ancient copy of the Stagyrite's Metaphysics. His subtleties 

 had fairly done me, as the saying is : so quid muita ? after half an hour 

 of irrepressible oscitancy, I fell into an abstraction, i. e. asleep. I expe- 

 rienced a strange, momentary shudder, as I felt myself in rapid motion ; 

 but whether upward or downward, I could not divine. At length, I 

 found myself sitting at the porch of an ancient temple. A strange light 

 beamed through its colossal pillars and architraves. I entered, and looked 

 about me. On several of the pillars were bound slips of parchment, 

 inscribed with Greek : one of them was 



p.v$lv I'* roy juj x ovroff yTa7&au' pi^sv EJCT TO (j.rj oy $ 



and, from other similar passages, I concluded the place in which I stood 

 to be the scene of philosophical discussions. Whilst I was gazing around 

 me, and wondering at the profound stillness which every where prevailed, 

 I beheld, at the further end of a long vista, a strange figure approaching, 

 with rapid but noiseless steps. In a twinkling, he was at my side. His 

 face was of a cadaverous, or rather bronzed hue ; and his unearthly eyes 

 " burned like two decaying stars." 1 The crown of his head was bald ; 

 and a few straggling, dirty-looking locks hung carelessly behind. He had 

 a coarse dark cloak, confined by a broad leathern girdle. 



" What think you of the metempsychosis ? what think you of the 

 metempsychosis, my good friend ?" inquired the stranger, with startling 

 abruptness. 



"The metempsychosis metempsychosis! hem! hem! There may 

 be something in it," stammered I. 



"Pshaw!" replied the, stranger, hastily; " do you believe in spiritual 

 interchanges ? Are you of the creed of my worthy friend, Pythagoras ?" 



" Why, I have not exactly made up my mind on that subject; it is 

 deep and difficult," said I, striving to collect my scattered wits. " But, 

 if it please you, may I inquire who or what you are?" 



'* ..Humph ! I ?" replied the stranger, passing his pale and sinewy hand 

 over his brow; " I am many persons at once* one successively, and two 

 interchangeably and so on, as it were. Dost thou understand me?" 



" Excellently excellently well !" replied I, striving to laugh at what I 

 conceived to be the old man's drollery. However, he went on rapidly. 



* Di'mocritus. 



