31'i HISTORY OF 



iiig animals ; and their rest, during winter, rather as a cessation 

 from life, than a necessary refreshment; but in the higher races of 

 animals, whose blood is not thus congealed, and thawed by heat, 

 these all bear- want of sleep much better than man ; and some 

 of them continue a long time without seeming to take any re- 

 freshment i'fom it whatsoever. 



But man is more feeble ; he requires its due return ; and if it 

 fails to pay the accustomed visit, his whole frame is in a short 

 time thrown into disorder : his appetite ceases ; his spirits are 

 dejected ; his pulse becomes quicker and harder ; and his mind, 

 abiidgedofits slumbering visions, begins to adojjt waking dreams. 

 A thousand strange phantoms arise, which come and go without 

 his will : these, which ai'e transient in the beginning, at last take 

 firm possession of the mind, which yields to their dominion, and 

 after a long struggle, runs into confirmed madness. In that 

 horrid state, the mind may be considered as a city without walls, 

 open to every insult, and paying homage to every invader ; 

 every idea that then starts \\ ith any force, becomes a reality ; and 

 the reason, over fatigued with its former importunities, makes 

 no head against the tyrannical invasion, but submits to it from 

 mere imbecility. 



But it is happy for mankind, that this state of inquietude is 

 seldom driven to an extreme ; and that there are medicines 

 which seldom fail to give relief. However, man finds it more 

 diflicult than any other animal to procure sleep : and some are 

 obliged to court its approaches for several hours together, before 

 they incline to rest. It is in vain that all light is excluded ; that all 

 sounds are removed ; that warmth and softness conspire to in. 

 vite it ; the restless and busy mind still retains its former ac- 

 t'n'hy ; and Reason, that wishes to lay down the reins, in spite 

 of herself is obliged to maintain them. In this disagreeable 

 state, the mind passes from thought to thought, willing to lose 

 the distinctness of perception, by increasing the multitude of the 

 images. At last, when the approaches of sleep are near, every 

 object of the imagination begins to mix with that next it ; their 

 outlines become, in a manner, rounder ; a part of their distinc- 

 tions fades away ; and sleep, that ensues, fashions out a dream 

 from the remainder. 



If then it should be asked, A-om what cause this state of rc- 

 t'oye proceeds, or in v/bat nuinnLT sleep thus binds us for seve. 



