Sleeping in the Saddle 



the order of their magnitudes and dignities at the levee ot 

 their radiant queen. The dim lamplight, too, began to 

 flicker through the windows of the town below, and the 

 night-winds sighed coldly from the snowy mountain-range. 



I am getting sleepy, and must go to bed, — that is, I must 

 lie down as I am, wrapped in my cloak, on a complicated 

 substitute which I have laid together on the floor. The 

 saddle turned upside down, and eked out with a folded 

 plaid, forms the bed, and my alforjas the pillow. Good- 

 night ! 



P.S. — In spite of the unpromising preparations I de- 

 scribed last night, I slept well till near daybreak. Then, 

 feeling rather cold, I got up and shook myself, and went 

 down-stairs, where I found a crowd of muleteers lying 

 about in the court on their manias. I got the great archway- 

 door open, and went up to the castle to see the sun rise. 



The morning was cold, as I sat at the top of the great 

 tower, while Phosphor faded in the flushing east ; and the 

 mountains, peak after peak, were touched with amethyst 

 lights, while the baby day crept along the plain. And at 

 last the sun arose from behind the mountain-range, and 

 cast the tall shadow of Moron across the land, almost to the 

 horizon ; but as the chorus of all the cocks grew louder, the 

 shadow shortened. 



So I went down and gave a feed of barley to the ponies, 

 and ordered chocolate, and wrote this postscript. Harry is 

 getting up. He has been terribly bitten by fleas. He had 

 a mattress, which, in consider^ion of my being an invalid, 

 he wanted me to sleep on ; but I liked my own inventions 

 better, for it was a suspicious-looking article. Harry is so 

 disgusted with the fleas, that he will not stop here to paint 

 a customer who called last night to order a portrait. The 

 chocolate is ready. 



