equestrian, was performing. On this occasion, I had no consicousness of a dark back ground like to that on which the monstrous images floated; but every thing was gay, bright, and beautiful. I was broad awake, my eyes were closed, and yet I saw with perfect distinctness the whole scene going on in the theatre-Ducrow performing his wonders of horsemanship-and the assembled multitude, among whom I recognized several intimate friends; in short, the whole process of the entertainment as clearly as if I were present at it. When I opened my eyes, the whole scene vanished like the enchanted palace of the necromancer; when I closed them, it as instantly returned. But though I could thus dissipate the spectacle, I found it impossible to get rid of the accompanying music. This was the grand march in the Opera of Aladdin, and was performed by the orchestra with more superb and imposing effect, and with greater loudness, than I ever heard it before; it was executed, indeed, with tremendous energy. This air I tried every effort to dissipate, by forcibly endeavoring to call other tunes to mind, but it was in vain. However completely the vision might be dispelled, the music remained in spite of every effort to banish it. During the whole of this singular state, I was perfectly aware of the illusiveness of my feelings, and, though laboring under violent headache, could not help speculating upon them and endeavoring to trace them to their proper cause. This theatrical vision continued for

about five hours; the previous delusions for a couple of days. The whole evidently proceeded from such an excited state of some parts of the brain, as I have already alluded to. Ideality, Wonder, Form, Color, and Size, were all in intensely active operation, while the state of the reflecting organs was unchanged. Had the latter participated in the general excitement, to such an extent as to be unable to rectify the false impressions of the other organs, the case would have been one of pure delirium.

Spectral illusions can only be cured by removing the causes which give rise to them. If they proceed from the state of the stomach, this must be rectified by means of purgatives and alterative medicines. Should plethora induce them, local or general blood-letting and other antiphlogistic means are requisite. If they accompany fever or delirium tremens, their removal will, of course, depend upon that of these diseaes. Arising from sleeplessness, they will sometimes be cured by anodynes; and from nervous irritation, by the shower-bath and tonics. Where they seem to arise without any apparent cause, our attention should be directed to the state of the bowels, and bloodletting had recourse to.

CHAPTER XVI.

REVERIE.

A STATE of mind somewhat analogous to that which prevails in dreaming, also takes place during reverie. There is the same want of balance in the faculties, which are almost equally ill regulated, and disposed to indulge in similar extravagancies. Reverie proceeds from an unusual quiescence of the brain, and inability of the mind to direct itself strongly to any one point: it is often the prelude of sleep. There is a defect in the attention, which, instead of being fixed on one subject, wanders over a thousand, and even on these is feebly and ineffectively directed. We sometimes see this while reading, or, rather, while attempting to read. We get over page after page, but the ideas take no hold whatever upon us; we are in truth ignorant of what we peruse, and the mind is either an absolute blank, or vaguely addressed to something else. This feeling every person must have occasionally noticed in taking out his watch, looking at it, and replacing it without knowing what the hour was. In like manner he

may hear what is said to him without attaching any meaning to the words, which strike his ear, yet communicate no definite idea to the sensorium. Persons in this mood may, from some ludicrous ideas flashing across them, burst into a loud fit of laughter during sermon or at a funeral, and thus get the reputation of being either grossly irreverent or deranged. That kind of reverie in which the mind is nearly divested of all ideas, and approximates closely to the state of sleep, I have sometimes experienced while gazing long and intently upon a river. The thoughts seem to glide away, one by one, upon the surface of the stream, till the mind is emptied of them altogether. In this state we see the glassy volume of the water moving past us, and hear its murmur, but lose all power of fixing our attention definitively upon any subject: and either fall asleep, or are aroused by some spontaneous reaction of the mind, or by some appeal to the senses sufficiently strong to startle us from our reverie. Grave, monotonous, slowly-repeated sounds-as of a mill, a waterfall, an Eolian harp, or the voice of a dull orator, have the effect of lulling the brain into repose, and giving rise to a pleasing melancholy, and to calmness and inanity of mind. Uniform gentle motions have a tendency to produce a similar state of reverie, which is also very apt to ensue in the midst of perfect silence: hence, in walking alone in the country, where there is no sound to distract our meditations, we frequently get into this state. It is also apt to

take place when we are seated without books, companions, or amusement of any kind, by the hearth on a winter evening, especially when the fire is beginning to burn out, when the candles are becoming faint for want of topping, and a dim religious light, like that filling a hermit's cell from his solitary lamp, is diffused over the apartment. This is the situation most favorable for reveries, waking dreams, and all kinds of brown study, abstraction, ennui, and hypochondria.

Reverie has been known to arise from the mind sustaining temporary weakness, in consequence of long and excessive application to one subject. It is also, I believe, frequently induced by forcing young people to learn what they dislike. In this case, the mind, finding it impossible to direct itself to the hated task, goes wandering off in another direction, and thus acquires a habit of inattention, which, in extreme cases, may terminate in imbecility. Sometimes reverie arises from peculiarity of temperament, either natural or induced by mental or bodily weakness. The best regulated minds and strongest bodies, may, however, and, in fact, often have, occasional attacks: but when the feeling grows into a habit, and is too much indulged in, it is apt to injure the usefulness of the individual, and impair the whole fabric of his understanding. "It is," says Dr. Good, "upon the faculty of attention that every other faculty is dependent for its vigor and expansion: without it, the perception exercises itself in vain; the memory