Litchfield enquirer., 1844-08-22
FOR THE ENQUIRER.
DREAMS.

MAh Cato, Cato, even learning's brow.
 And d'scipline's,are oit convulsed with dreamsO
 Metaphysicians have expended much of their la.
 bor upon the mysteries of night-dreams, but have
 usually been modest enough to end their dsquisi.
 tions by confeasing that they kpew little of the
 subject. Day-dreaming seems to be more inscruta-
 be still. The trains of its association are soincon
 stant, 90 whimsica the steps ofss progress are So
 airy. its wandarings so dantastic, its visions SO
 crowded with diverse imagea--that the wits of phi. sosnpheEs and poets youths and maidens, though
 she'd "upon it for thousands of years, shave never
 succeeded in fixing its.colors or gixingt portrai-
 ture. Day.dFeaming-every body denounces it,
 and yet every body indulgesin it. But why de-
 noupce'ia If you have ,ftiead who'has one ab. sorbing element of nobleness in his character, do you not in the warmth of your admiration overlook thnse iittle .inaccuracies which might offend the eye of casual observation or scrptinizng indifer- .ense9 5ust so do regard Day dreaming dare not speak i'll of her; for she is the most socal com. 'panionable fairy in the world. You are school boy-she hovers about you wherever you wander, with that sweet changeable smileand that bright eye and that delicate finger always pointing up- ward-upward-to a height which probably you will never reach. but the distant prospect of which eharms you with dizzy, uncertain, delicious joy; dearer thousand times than the foudest reality-- Thenshehhas such maideuly ,sisterly voice of en- arrangement. She does even little favors with sschanuncenscious grace, that her very deceit is lovely. That Ope can be discouraged, seldem seems to enter into her imagination. But if, assil some. times happen from previous overasw of spirts, she aroops her head for moment do0btingly, she looks 30 like angel you feel almost inclined to shed tears as you see her forehead beginning to brighten again with the beams of anticipation and promise that have just left it.
 But perhapsyOu are of matureryears Perhaps you have tried the dificut ways of knowledge. Possibly to your eye Homer's may not be an unfa- miliar -pass; and CieerOs words, though dead and cold to millions may be living ccAls from the altar of antiquity to yon. If %, here she is again. this same Ansihlspsits, restless. whispering. Aatterng e ever. Now you stroll along the sands of the Dos- phOrus. neglected. old, and in bodily sisionstark blind-yet within. full of the light of immortal scag>the world cares not for you, and you are too busy to care for the world. Now yoa gre in the Roman forum. The waves of atermy populacs gre heaving. per chance hreaking around yon. Yon are the Tdily of the hour. Yon nsssetch fosth your hand. yoa open yOar lips and thaOeean of passion and fury slumbeEs peacefully at your feet. Theve. " walls of the Eternal City seem to expand with yaar;REUpestions, and the shades of Romulus and 4gama cOlne submiasively at your. call. But stop! the nymph is deluding you. You are not Homer; yon.are not Cicero. The Bosphorts echoes onlytO the voics sf ghosts. and the City oi the Iybsr sN place of souls. You are plain republican. aaA that too, for aaght Iknow. sfa uncommon order. You aesv can be sHumsr; yOu nevsr can saCi- eeroe-=yet yUacaniOt help daysdveaming. And why need you helpit! You can bs something; and the msssyoa sltivs. the 1oss shAIlsyoa win. Ho6sr r SslOfe you. gOOdly euuntry and an honest fAme DsnOunes not. reject nat. .slsndr not her wAo would seek to mAks yun hsttsr. wUEthisr than yoa AEs. Think of her fahltS only that tAsy nay nst asluae yUu. spslk Of them nss~. There are a ls~ sPos ca the disc 0f the ann-bua that eye must hasA,Ep1 than suyys that euuld sss thcm. unA 'ssa~ssSEsst tAseicsy sna bslny dt thswb. R