The Norfolk post. [volume] (Norfolk, Va.) 1865-1866, 1866-03-27
Che 9urfolk gnst.
TUESDAY, MARCH 81. 1865.
THE MYSTERY OF SLEEP.
From Chambers Journal.

soul in its retirement, to note what |
then does, thinks, or speaks. That IL i
powerful, that IT is eloquent, that II i
poetical then, il ut no other time, ha
BEEN demonstrated by many examples
But the waking and the sleeping SOU
are identical; what the latter does whef
| freed from all letters, the former woulc
do if IL dared. The character cannot b,
put off, like a change of raiment, wher
we step from one condition of existence
into the other, our virtues, our vices, oul
passions, our aspirations clings to us
sleeping or waking. The greatest writers
have paid most attention To the visions
of the night, when deep sleep falleth
upon man" Shakespeare isrich in de-
scription of the avenues to the palace oil
dreams; sometimes paved with horror,
and overshadowed by shapes of agony
and dread. Listen to the murderer
| king. IA he reveals, from his drealnless
couch, his cravings for the solace Of for
| getfulness: Iu
| How many thousands Of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour a-leepl D Sleep, gentle Sleep,
| Natures soft nurse. how have :righted thee,
| That thou more will weigh my eyeldsdown,
| And steep my senses In forgetfunessi
Why, rather, Sleep, LEST thou IN smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hushed with buzzing nightGiesto thy sIumber
Thar in the perfumed chambers ofthe great
Sleep, however, has no objections to
| the buzzing of night-ilies, to SIN ok y
cabins, or 10 hard pallets, provided he
| can lay his head on the soft pillow of a
clear conscience. The inmates of the
smoky cabins might not have butchered
their cousins by treachery, might not
| have put strangers to death without
law or justice, might not have idented
the peaceful plains of their country with
the hoofs of hostile steeds, as the regal
| criminal to whom sleep refused to come
had done. What frightened away the
gentle god was the howl OF the hell
hounds that attend on guilt, the Erinys,
as Shakespeare himself calls her, that
tracks the blood-spiller to his grave.
| Well might he wall aud lament as one
| with whom "nature's sweet restorer"
refused to abide. TO him, with more
! justice than TO the lover maddened with
| jealousy, might it be said:
| Not poppy, msndragora.
| Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
| Which thou ow DIST yesterday.
Pallets hard or soft have not much TO
do with the SAUNDERS that visit those who
lie upon them. | have enjoyed the
sweetest of sweet sleeps stretched on
pease haulm In cow-house; on a stone
floor in caravanserai, with five thou.
sand armed enemies providing about on
| the outside; on horseback on dark
night on the edge of precipices; and ex-
claimed with Sancho, BLESSED be the
man that invented sleep! 1t wrappeth a
man about like q garment! Yet place
occasionally enhances the delight of the
sleeper, by aiding to paint his dreams
| with brilliant or delicate colOrs, and
soothe the ear Of his fancy with the
sound of loving voices. Once. far up ia
tile Nile, on little manmillated sand
bank, 1 tasted aloop in ito owectost.
richest, most fascinating and gorgeous
habit, down beyond the Sahara. The
sun had sunk, leaving in the heavens b
long trails OF glory--a mixture of sap
phire and blood red vapor, with saphron,
amethyst aud beryl. All day the Their
mometer had stood 100 degrees in the
shade, but so tempered by refreshing
| winds from the west, that 1t seemed then
| only to have reached pleasure point.
There was languor in the atmosphere,
filled with the dozy, drowsy hum of in
sects, rendered doubly slumberous by
the low, ripping murmur of the great
Lriver as il glided past toward the north.
ern tropic. These influences subdued
the mind to pleasant melancholy, 80 that
/ passed out of the waking into tho
sleeping world with delicious uncon
sciousness. Without being too profound
in the metaphysics of dreams, l yei
| venture to believe that the testimony o
the senses enters largely into their struc
ture, colors borrowed from the skie'
and landscapes around, the tighres o
palm trees, the masses of rock, and the
| iake-like breadth Of waters, camels
horses, bufialoes, thrown confusedly TO
/ gether by the Kaleidoscope power Q
fancy converted my dream on the sandy
island into a reflection of paradise
Nevertheless, when the curtain frs
dropped between me and the QUITE
world, l found myself, not Oh tropica
river, but in my mothers garden y
r., -land, over which tropical skies ex
lsne 4. tropical vegetation beautified
| r. ~ ,ua, the mimosa, and the doum
PI,...r 81 &. ,sects entering or quittin
,hen, stretcbe I beside the lodges; flow
ers 81 brilliant hues sent forth iron
their tiny bells tb bnm OF their plu
derers while my .~Ieger, ~ .ae a'.i'
| of her bright youth, eu He , n.Ilci a.
thither by the hand % nst,e ci my
suddenly the shy Dcchib .
prolonged wall assailed tie stnse
hearing; the whole landsea oe shisel 7
and broke up, and l WOKE aoiuPl
with the dismal howl Of jackals III III
ears. They were sweeping norshWaf
after some fleet prey, probably hgi
gazelle; and in few minutes the SCUM
died away in the distance. Calm az
stiffness then returned, aud broode
over the whole scene Never did cart
appear more beautiful than az that n'
ment, overliaDg by hosts of stars Az
consultations, large, liquid, fiashiu.
rather than twiEkling in the dark biz,
vault of infinite space. 1t was on sucl
/ uight as that / felt sure thatsomeantio,,
| Egyptian priest, meditatiDg, perhaps o,
tina. very island, persuaded himself tia
the v, ,ice be heard on both sides of hin
was the voice of a god-of Osiris him
self. FRI nm the whole expanding sur
face of the rippling waves il ascendee
unsteady an d solemnly into the dusk ,
air, where, m'ngling with the lisping,
of the breeze, il produced a delicion.
concert. at no great distance, In a
grove Of palms, sang the nightingale
not sullenly or sadly, as poets feign, hui
with a rich, full gush Ofjoy. Was that
also dream? 1t may have been, for al
no other time did hear the nightingale
in tropical Africa. About Cairo, heI
song is common; where, as she perches
among Expresses, surrounded by mortu.
airy cupolas, her notes undoubtedly
sound like a lament for the dead.
Psychologists admit-and IL thew did
not, IL would not be less than indisputa.