New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1903-12-06

because" the second replied, when one mas
curIed up for slumber the will is weak with me
enc of two things would surely happen II dd
not co to sleep at once-either my thoughts
would wander off into dreary, dull rehearsal
of the commonplace events of the day just
nassed or they would become perversely mis-
directed haunting me with my inability to keep
them away from forbidden objects. 1 should be
either bored or Mortified at myself. I'm glad
plump instantly into dreamland-'
Il seldom have that difficulty said the first
speaker, though know what 1t is; every man
who is honest with himself will admit that he
has experienced it. 1t can be avoided, as L
avoid it, by telling ones self stOry-the pref
test story one can invent-with blssful dis
regard for the probabilities and a childlikeness
of belief The will is not so weak but it can
start the story, and. after the start is made, no
will is necessary. not even the will to believe
SIumber will come before the end. Try it,
To tell ones self story, the prettiest story
one can invent-that is the secret. The initiated,
the grown ups who have never forgotten how
to be children because the world never made
them ashamed of their childlikeness. will not
need to be told this. But there are grown ups
who will need to be told to be helped back into
the old path to Sunderland And If the young
STEERS could be persuaded that we, too. tell our
selves to sleep with a story, how their respect
most fortunate of men in this presOmnolent
period, as they are at all other times in the
day What lover ever added figures repeated
COMMONPLACE conversations or worried over his
worldly mistakes otherwise let his mind
DULY revolve in the ruts Of daily existence while
he was going to sleep? If such there be they
are not worthy to be called lovers. Even lovers
have worries and troubles and mundane affairs
of business but they Danish all these with the
puff OF breath which puts out the bedroom
candle For them the trip to the Land of Nod
is a sacred journey, sacred because the be-
loved one is their sole companion Impossible
but supremacy sweet is the story the lover tells
himself as slumber steals upon him No lover
is ever so much a poet In that hour. and no
girl is ever SO deeply loved 1t may be the
same story comes back night after night, with
little Celebrations little minor changes to make
the bliss more perfect till it shapes itself into
a beautiful tale that is no less distinct to the
lover because he could not put it into words,
and would not If he could Even the land
scape on this road to dreamland becomes
clearly marked and on day in leafy summer.
wandering with his beloved in the country.
it may be that he will suddenly come upon a
spot strangely familiar. though he has never
entered it before; and then he will realize that
it is only the original country of his dream. for
every dream. sleeping waking has its orig
inal somewhere out in the world And he will
tell his mistress with sudden awe that 1t is the
landscape of that sleep-time lyric. when
He drew her forth to the distant wood.
Where bird and Hover were gay,
And in silent joy each green tree stood;
And with singing along the way.
He drew her TO where each bird
Repeated his magic word,
And there seemed q spell she couldn't tell
In every sound she heard
Then his mistress if she Is wise and loves
him very much win look at the spot with a
little sigh and say that she wished she could
see his dream. too; but she will not hint to him,
what is probably the case, that she does not
understand him at all and thinks his talk rather
silly. Women are much less tenacious than
men of their childhood keenness of imagination;
perhaps 1t means less to them since the gift
of life is theirs and they live their child
hood over again not in memory but in maternity
His talk is not silly, however. even psychologist
cally; of course, from a purely humanitarian
point of view. lovers talk Is ever sillyi The
love Is only announcing a strange truth to which
every child bear witness. Most of US for
get all but the most momentOus events of our
childhood: our childish moods and whims and
fancies pass out of memory; and we think we
grown up. But ask any boy OF average
imagination If he has not dreamed OF a land
scape which he afterward saw In the world
and he will look at you moment as If startled
and then answer Yes" Most often # Is a
hurried in his dream, on a night when the