"And the same image still returns." Eademque recurrit imago.

Diverse as are the circumstances, and varied as is the character of our dreams, and difficult as it sometimes is to trace their connection with preceding reflections and events, it appears that, in general, they take their compaction from particulars of a recent occurrence, and are tinctured by the colouring of our thoughts before we close our eyes in forgetfulness, however the shades may gradually change, and insensibly assume a different hue.

This connection between our waking and sleeping thoughts was noted by Solomon, who observes "that a dream * cometh through the multitude of business," and it is alluded to with poetical illustration by Lucretius in the following lines:

"The scenes on which our thoughts have chiefly dwelt; The pain and pleasures which we oft have felt; Whate'er pursuits employ us when awake,

Possession of our minds in sleep will take. Statutes and laws the lawyers still engage, Contending chieftains furious battles wage, And sailors struggle with the tempest's rage.

I Nature's principles explore, and seek Establish'd truths in native strains to teach.

* The Hebrew word a dream, according to Parkhurst, implies broken parts or fragments being composed of ideas or images received by our senses, particularly by our sight, while awake ; it is, indeed, often applied to supernatural dreams, which, like natural dreams, consisted of broken and familiar images, as in Gen. xxxvii. xl. xli. Daniel ii. vii. Other lexicographers, however, derive the word valuit, quia somniunt, and suppose it to note the temperament of the constitution.

And other arts illusively beguile The mind in sleep with fascinating smile: Those who on idle sports consume the hours Which pleasure varies with its changing powers; Where transient objects to the mind couvey'd, In quick succession speedily must fade ; Still though the scene be closed, in dreams descry Traces of all that has amused the eye. Oft do the images recur. In graceful form Some the soft movements of the dance perform. While liquid measures float upon the ears, And the whole splendid theatre appears. With such a strong dominion custom reigns, So pleasure binds the mind in silken chains; Those whose great souls with lofty projects teem, Renew these projects nightly as they dream. Monarchs attack, are taken, seem to feel, Or shrink affrighted from the threatening steel; Some, as they bleed, their hapless fate bemoan, And midst the battle's shouts unheeded groan; Some as if torn by furious panthers cry, Some seem beneath the lion's rage to lie *."

Ovid avails himself of this renewal of the sensations which engage our waking thoughts, in the following pathetic lines, in which, he vented his sorrows when in exile among the Sarmatians.

* Lucretius, B. iv. Et quos ;quisque, F 2

"When rest and sleep their medicine prepare. Vainly I hope the night devoid of care; Then dreams which copy real woes revive My grief, and every sense to sorrow is alive. I seem to shrink from the Sarmatian spears, Or raise my hands to chains with captive tears; Or soothed to happier scenes my mind regains My long deserted seat and native plains; With you, my friends, sweet converse I maintain. Or thee, beloved, to my bosom strain"

The learned find engaging Sir Henry Wot-ton in a survey of education, speaking of a child, says, "Let not his very dreams be neglected, for without question there is a great analogy between these apprehensions which he hath taken by day into his fancy, and the nocturnal impressions, particularly in that age which is not yet troubled with the fumes and cares of the world, so as the soul hath a freer and more defecated operation*."

* See Reliquia Wottoniana.

This recurrence of images which have previously engaged the mind, is also neatly expressed by Claudian.

"Whate'er by day our contemplation views. Sweet sleep's reflection in the night renews; Scarce on his bed the wearied sportsman lies, Than back into the woods his fancy flies. In dreams the judge decrees, the charioteer Guides round the goal his courser's swift career, Softly the lover treads. The merchant deals, The miser starting for his treasure feels. Sleep to the thirsty land, in fruitless dreams, Draws from ideal springs refreshing streams; Me too the Muses, in the silent night With arts seductive, to their haunts invite *."

The connection between our waking and our sleeping thoughts appears from the curious circumstance of our dreaming often that we do dream, which results from the conviction that we have before been Received.

* Omnia que sensu, etc Claud, pref. iii

It is remarkable that the mind when we dream is the theatre of action, and at the same time the agent, the whole mimic scene is a fictitious world collected in the mind, in which objects and persons, as actors and spectators, are multiplied with endless fertility of imagination. St. Basil represents dreams to be the vestiges of our daily thoughts, and observes that our reflections and discourse generate correspondent circumstances in sleep. It is certain that the mind after the storm and con-vulsion of disturbed passions, continues long like the troubled sea when it cannot rest, of which the waters cast up mire and dirt*. This is very sensibly experienced by persons whose affections are agitated by love, their sleep being generally harassed by the hopes and fears which distract them when awake, and tormented by those dreams, of which Dido complains, finding, like her, that the words and features of the beloved object