effects. A hard or soft body, or any substance of a particular color, or taste, or smell, are always, when presented to our senses, followed by certain states of mind essentially the same; and we yield the most ready and firm belief in the existence of such objects. In a word, we are disposed from our very constitution to believe in the existence of objects of perception, the perceptions of which do not depend on the WILL, but which we find to be followed by certain states of the mind, whether we choose it or not. But it is to be recollected that our dreaming thoughts are mere conceptions; our senses being closed and shut up, and external objects not being presented to them. This is true. But if we conclude in favor of the real existence of objects of perception, because they produce in us sensations independently of our volitions, it is but natural to suppose, that we shall believe in the reality of our conceptions also, whenever they are in like manner beyond our voluntary control. They are both merely states of the mind; and if belief always attends our perceptions, wherever we find them to be independent of our choice, there is no reason why conceptions, which are ideas of absent objects of perception, should not be attended with a like belief under the same circumstances. And essentially the same circumstances exist in dreaming; that is, a train of conceptions arise in the mind, and we are not conscious at such times of being able to exercise any direction or control whatever over them. They exist, whether we will it or not; and we regard them as real.

§. 164. Of our estimate of time in dreaming.

Our estimate of time in dreaming differs from that when awake. Events, which would take whole days or a longer time in the performance, are dreamt in a few moments. So wonderful is this compression of a multitude of transactions into the very shortest period, that when we are accidentally awakened by the jarring of a door, which is opened into the room where we are sleeping, we sometimes dream of depredations by thieves, or destruction by fire, in the very instant of our awakening."A friend of mine, (says Dr. Abercrombie,) dreamed that he crossed the Atlantic, and spent a fortnight in America. In embarking on his return, he fell into

the sea; and having awoke with the fright, discovered that he had not been asleep above ten minutes." Count Lavallette, who some years since was condemned to death in France, relates a dream, which occurred during his imprisonment, as follows. "One night, while I was asleep, the clock of the Palais de Justice struck twelve, and awoke me. I ́heard the gate open to relieve the sentry; but I fell asleep again immediately. In this sleep, I dreamed that I was standing in the Rue St. Honoré, at the corner of the Rue de l'Echelle. A melancholy darkness spread around me ; all was still, nevertheless a low and uncertain sound soon arose. All of a sudden, I perceived at the bottom of the street, and advancing towards me, a troop of cavalry, the men and horses, however, all flayed. This horrible troop continued passing in a rapid gallop, and casting frightful looks on me. Their march, I thought, continued for five hours; and they were followed by an immense number of artillery-waggons, full of bleeding corpses, whose limbs still quivered; a disgusting smell of blood and bitumen almost choked me. At length, the iron gate of the prison shutting with great force, awoke me again. I made my repeater strike; it was no more than midnight, so that the horrible phantasmagoria had lasted no more than two or three minutes-that is to say, the time necessary for relieving the sentry and shutting the gate. The cold was severe and the watchword short. The next day, the turnkey confirmed my calculations."

Our dreams will not unfrequently go through all the particulars of a passage of the Alps, or of a military expedition to Moscow, or of a circumnavigation of the globe, or of other long and perilous undertakings, in a less number of hours, than it took weeks, or months or even years in the actual performance of them. We go from land to land, and from city to city, and into desert places; we experience transitions from joy to sorrow, and from poverty to wealth; we are occupied in the scenes and transactions of many long months; and then our slumbers are scattered, and behold, they are the doings of a fleeting watch of the night!

This striking circumstance in the history of our dreams is generally explained by supposing, that our thoughts, as they successively occupy the mind, are more rapid, than while we

are awake. But their rapidity is at all times very great; so much so, that, in a few moments, crowds of ideas pass through the mind, which it would take a long time to utter, and a far longer time would it take to perform all the transactions which they concern. This explanation, therefore, is not satisfactory, for our thoughts are oftentimes equally rapid in our waking moments.

The true reason, we apprehend, is to be found in those preceding sections, which took under examination the apparent reality of dreams. Our conceptions in dreaming are considered by us real; every thought is an action; every idea is an event; and successive states of mind are successive actions and successive events. He, who in his sleep has the conception of all the particulars of a military expedition to Moscow, or of a circumnavigation of the globe, seems to himself to have actually experienced all the various and multiplied fortunes of the one and the other. Hence what appears to be the real time in dreams, but is only the appaparent time, will not be that, which is sufficient for the mere thought, but that, which is necessary for the successive actions.

"Something perfectly analagous to this may be remarked, (says Mr. Stewart), in the perceptions we obtain by the sense of sight. When I look into a shew-box, where the deception is imperfect, I see only a set of paltry daubings of a few inches in diameter; but if the representation be executed with so much skill, as to convey to me the idea of a distant prospect, every object before me swells in its dimensions, in proportion to the extent of space, which I conceive it to occupy, and what seemed before to be shut within the limits of a small wooden frame, is magnified, in my apprehension, to an immense landscape of woods, rivers, and mountains."

§. 165. Of the senses sinking to sleep in succession,

It is true as a general statement, that in sleep the mind ceases to retain its customary power over the muscular movements of the system; and all the senses are at such times locked up, and no longer perform their usual offices. The effect upon the senses is such that it seems to be proper * Stewart's Elements, Chapter on Dreaming.

to speak of them as individually going to sleep, and awaking from sleep. It remains, therefore, to be observed, that there is considerable reason to suppose, that the senses fall asleep in succession. For a detailed explanation and proof of this singular fact, reference must be had to Cullen, and particularly to Cabanis, a French writer on subjects of this nature; but the conclusions, at which they arrive on this particular point, may be here stated.*

The sight, in consequence of the protection of the eyelids, ceases to receive impressions first, while all the other senses preserve their sensibility entire; and may, therefore, be said to be first in falling asleep. The sense of taste, according to the above writers, is the next, which loses its susceptibility of impressions, and then the sense of smelling. The hearing is the next in order, and last of all comes the sense of touch. Furthermore, the senses are thought to sleep with different degrees of profoundness. The senses of taste and smelling awake the last; the sight with more difficulty than the hearing, and the touch the easiest of all. Sometimes a very considerable noise does not awake a person, but if the soles of his feet are tickled in the slightest degree, he starts up immediately.

Similar remarks are made by the writers above referred to, on the muscles. Those, which move the arms and legs, cease to act when sleep is approaching, sooner than those, which sustain the head; and the latter before those, which support the back. -And here it is proper to notice an exception to the general statement at the commencement of this section, that the mind in sleep ceases to retain its power over the muscles. Some persons can sleep standing, or walking, or riding on horseback; with such we cannot well avoid the supposition, that the voluntary power over the muscles is in some way retained and exercised in sleep.-These statements are particularly important in connection with the facts of somnambulism; only admit, that the susceptibility of the senses, and the power of the muscles may remain even in part while we are asleep, and we can account for them. We know, that this is not the case in a vast majority of instances; but that it does sometimes happen, is a point, which seems at last to be sufficiently well established.

*Rapports du Physique et du Moral De L'Homme, Mem. x.

§. 166. General remarks on cases of somnambulism. With the general subject of dreaming, that of Somnambu- . lism is naturally and intimately connected. Somnambulists, as the term itself indicates, are persons, who are capable of walking and of other voluntary actions while asleep.*- -Of such persons many instances are on record, and of some a particular account is given. The accompanying instance in the note, will help to illustrate the nature of somnambulism. Other instances, hardly less striking, might be repeated, but they have been too often narrated, and are of too frequent recurrence, to require it.

I, A number of things may be said in explanation of somnambulism. The somnambulist, in the first place, is in all cases dreaming, and we may suppose in general, that the

* The following is an instance of somnambulism, which recently took place, of an extraordinary character.-A farmer in one of the counties of Massachusetts had employed himself, for some weeks in winter, thrashing his grain. One night as he was about closing his labors, he ascended a ladder to the top of the great beams in the barn, where the rye, which he was thrashing was deposited, to ascertain what number of bundles remained unthrashed, which he determined to finish the next day. The ensuing night, about two o'clock, he was heard by one of the family to arise and go out. He repaired to his barn, being sound asleep and unconscious of what he was doing, set open his barn doors, ascended the great beams of the barn where his rye was deposited, threw down a flooring, and commenced thrashing it. When he had completed it, he raked off the straw, and shoved the rye to one side of the floor, and then again ascended the ladder with the straw and deposited it on some rails, that lay across the great beams. He then threw down another flooring of rye, which he thrashed and finished as before. Thus he continued his labors until he had thrashed five floorings, and on returning from throwing down the sixth and last, in passing over part of the hay-mow, he fell off, where the hay had been cut down about six feet, on to the lower part of it, which awoke him. He at first imagined himself in his neighbor's barn, but after groping about in the dark a long time, ascertained that he was in his own, and at length found the ladder, on which he descended to the floor, closed his barn doors which he found open, and returned to his house. On coming to the light he found himself in such a profuse perspiration, that his clothes were literally wet through. The next morning on going to his barn, he found that he had thrashed, during the night, five bushels. of rye, had raked the straw off in good order, and deposited it on the great beams, and carefully shoved the grain to one side of the floor, without the least consciousness of what he was doing until he fell from the hay.