the sweepings of my dominions, and sighing for something beyond earth's possibilities. Thou art not formed for earth; the world cannot appreciate thee, but I can, and want a king, a husband, and thou shalt be he! I looked upon her, and seemed to realise in her countenance all those moral lines for which my panting soul had ever longed; she embodied the pride of one, the amiability of another, the honest love of another; pride without ostentation, amiability without weakness, and love without coquetry, and the beauty of all! I looked again, and there was a bland melancholy filled her eye; she wept, and dropped the tears into the frame-work of a coral star, and they turned to pearls; she hung it to my breast, and called it sympathy. She now took me under the water, but I could not speak to her there; but whether from the water, or the effects of love I could not say, yet the sensation was intense; we still descended till all was dark, but at last saw something shining like a glow-worm. She said yonder light is my deceased lord, and I will shew thee thy new dominions. She gave a flash with her tail, and a firmament of stars illumined my coral

temples and palaces. Now we will feast, said she, and another flash of her tail brought all her ladies of rank and the nobles of office around her, who likewise had the like flashing tails, and to my astonishment too, to dine upon the king. He is not putrescent yet, for his light shines full, said the queen. The table was a spar slab, the cloth, sea weed, our plates large pearl shells, and our knives the shells of the razor fish. A fierce looking gentleman sat by her side to carve, with a lobster's claw stuck on his nose, and she sent me the heart and brain, remarking, that the heart would give oblivion of the past, because it felt not, that she had got mine, and did not wish me to feel for others; and that the brain would give truth and disregard of future, because it thought not. She said to a lady near her, who had been looking at me,-a Platonic eye to thee Fishby that envy may not harm thee. To thee Lady Clamshell, a tongue that cannot lie or wheedle with my lord; and to thee Lady Oyster to stop thy longings, should they tend to my lord the lips. An harmless arm to thee unicorn, and gauless gaul to thee snake, and spleen to thee, &c. I would have talked about the soul,

-she understood me, and pointed to a coral reef, where she said it lay in spawn.

In the midst of this horrible feast, while shivering over my bloody morsel, some unseen hand grasped me. Come, you must away, said a voice apparently behind me. I struggled and cried out for the company to rescue me from my persecutors. Another grasp and struggle, and I awoke in a cold sweat, and was tugging with the man of the hut where I slept, who had come to call me.

My heart kept up a loud palpitation for an hour after it quite unmanned me for half the day. This was one of a thousand still more horrible; for the latter scenes in this would have been pleasant, had the machinery been in order; but distress pervades even the happy train.

It would be a salutary purgatory to wean mankind from an over passion of worldliness, to doom them to dream awake for a time with such a stomach. I say stomach, because I had a distinct consciousness in my sleep of a pain being there, like millstones grinding in it. I knew all the while I was but dreaming, but had not the power to awake myself. I thought

of Dequinsy, the opium eater, and had the heavenly drug to my lips. Twelve years peace, and then hell on earth for aye! I prayed to God, and threw the bottle away.

O ye" cart horse part" of the creation, who can smile at a scolding wife, a dun, and water porridge breakfast, and are envied by many for your happiness, I tell you to your teeth, I would bear all this, and more, rather than be one of you; such is man. There is no egotism in that my friend; for the heart indifferent to pain, is equally so to pleasure; though true happiness lies in the moderated variety and fluctuation of both. But I will away to my night hell, to commune with the dark shadows of my haunted mind, till exhausted nature force me to submit to the black ordeal of the furies once more. Peace to thy sleep farewell! let Byron speak while I rest.

"Our life is two-fold; sleep hath its own world,

A boundary between things mis-named,

Death and existence:

And dreams in their development have breath,

And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;

They pass like spirits of the past: they speak
Like Sybils of the future; they have power,
The tyranny of pleasure and of pain;

They make us what we were not, what they will,
And shake us with the vision that's gone by,
And curdle a long life into one hour!

My slumbers, if I slumber, are not sleep,
But a continuance of enduring thought,
Which then I can resist not in my heart
There is a vigil, and these eyes but close
To look within; and yet I live, and bear
The aspect and the form of breathing men.
But grief should be the instructor of the wise;
Sorrow is knowledge: they who know the most
Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth,-
The tree of knowledge is not that of life.

Thinkest thou that existence doth depend on time?
It does; but actions are our epochs: mine
Have made my days and nights imperishable."

Another night of groans and writhings is past, and morning opes her tissue robe, and lifts her veil, and smiles on all, save me! I pass o'er her face, a preternatural disk, a dark atom lost to gravitation. But we must away o'er yonder grim cliff, that nods it in the heavens.

Here am I, eight miles off Castleton, at the head of the forest, having a splendid bird's-eye`