in arms, knowing his susceptibility, used constantly to | able and sometimes painful, have a very important influence amuse themselves by practising the whispering. They on dreams. These sensations indeed influence very concould produce in him any kind of dream by whispering into siderably our waking trains of ideas; and much more, inhis ear, especially if this was done by a friend with whose asmuch as in sleep there are no external objects to call us voice he was familiar. At one time they conducted him away from the ideas which these sensations call up, do they through the whole progress of a quarrel, which ended in a influence our sleeping trains. When the digestion is good, duel; and when the parties were supposed to be met, a and we have ate nothing which weighs upon or disagrees pistol was put into his hand, which he fired, and was awa- with the stomach, our dreams are, generally speaking, ! kened by the report. On another occasion, they found him pleasurable. When, on the other hand, we suffer from inasleep on the top of a locker or bunker in the cabin, when digestion, which, in respect of the effect, is but a name for they made him believe he had fallen overboard, and ex- an aggregate of painful sensations in the alimentary canal, horted him to save himself by swimming. He immediately we are afflicted with dreams of the most painful character. imitated all the motions of swimming. They then told him The exhilarating effects of opium and of intoxicating that a shark was pursuing him, and entreated him to dive draughts, which effects are neither more nor less than senfor his life. He instantly did so, with such force as to throw sations in the alimentary canal, are also discernible in himself entirely from the locker upon the cabin floor, by dreams. And in connexion with this topic, we may allude which he was much bruised, and awakened of course. After to the dreams caused by the uneasy sensations attendant the landing of the army at Louisburg, his friends found on obstructed respiration, which, sometimes caused by and him one day asleep in his tent, and evidently much annoyed sometimes combined with indigestion, constitute the most by the cannonading. They then made him believe that he dreadful evils to which in sleep we are subject, and which was engaged, when he expressed great fear, and showed are known to all under the name of nightmare. an evident disposition to run away. Against this they re- We have thus explained the law of association which monstrated, but at the same time increased his fears by determines the formation of dreams, and have exemplified imitating the groans of the wounded and the dying; and its operation. Thus far, it will be observed, we have when he asked, as he often did, who was down, they named spoken of dreams only in their generic character of trains his particular friends. At last they told him that the man of ideas; or, at least, any reference which we have next himself in the line had fallen, when he instantly made to the specific circumstances which distinguish sprung from his bed, rushed out of the tent, and was roused them from trains of ideas in the waking state has been from his danger and his dream together by falling over the incidental. It remains, in order to complete the psychotent-ropes.' (p. 278.) logical theory of dreams, to state and explain the circumstances distinguishing dreams, as trains of ideas during sleep, from trains of ideas as they generally occur in the waking state. We say as they generally occur, because in the waking state there are trains of ideas, which occur under peculiar circumstances, resembling dreams, and differing from the generality of trains of ideas in the waking state in those very points by means of which dreams, and the generality of waking trains, are to be distinguished from one another. The trains of ideas which in the waking state occur thus under peculiar circumstances are those called reveries, or, more expressively, waking dreams; and again, those which present themselves to the mind during delirium.

e. Of the five external senses, touch is the most excitable during sleep. In continually changing, as we do, our position during sleep, we are influenced by tactile sensations of which the bed and the bed-clothes are the causes. We are most easily awaked by being touched, the slightest tickling in the nose or the sole of the foot being sufficient for the purpose. And as regards the operation of sensations of touch in modifying dreams, let it suffice to observe generally, that those by which we are awaked may call up, in the interval between the touch and the waking, ideas of various causes of touch which will be pleasurable or painful ideas according to other circumstances.

1. Ideas which occur in dreams are believed to be sen-
sations; scenes fashioned by the fancy are believed to be
real. What has been already said, when we were resolving
this belief in the presence of external objects not present
into its component elements, in order to exemplify the
operation of the law of association in dreams, has expedited
the explanation of this phenomenon. When we are awake
we are conscious continually of two different states of mind,
belief in the existence of external objects present, and
belief in the existence of external objects not present.
These two states of mind differ only in this point, that the
former comprehends certain sensations of sight, while the
latter, in the place of the sensations themselves, has but
the ideas of the sensations. Now, when we are awake,
ideas are compared with sensations, the belief in the exist
ence of external objects not present with the belief in the
existence of external objects present; and ideas are seen to
be less vivid than sensations, the former belief than the
latter belief. Thus, and thus alone, are these states of
mind respectively distinguished from each other when we
are awake; but when we are asleep we have no sensations
with which to compare our ideas, and no external objects
present, with the belief in whose presence we can compare
the belief in their existence when they are not present.
Ideas therefore, no longer viewed relatively, take the place
of sensations; they are the most vivid representations which
present themselves to the mind of the qualities of external
objects; and, being the most vivid, are believed to be sen-
sations. Whence it follows that the belief in the existence
of external objects not present takes the place also of the
belief in the existence of external objects present, or
(changing the phrase) the belief in the presence of external
objects. It may also be, that ideas when we are asleep are,
from bodily causes which we cannot trace, actually more
vivid than are the same ideas when we are awake: if this
be so, which we cannot positively say, but which is probable,
it will combine with the previous consideration to explain
the above-mentioned phenomenon.

f. Sensations of bodily pain, or of disorganization (as they have been named by Mr. Mill, who has been the first to treat of the munder a separate head), including the sensations of heat and cold, frequently occur to modify dreams. Hobbes has enunciated this modifying circumstance with distinctness, interweaving however a somatological hypothesis for its explanation which is neither necessary nor correct; but this hypothesis may be kept apart from the enunciation of the fact. And seeing dreams are caused by the distemper of some of the inward parts of the body, divers distempers must needs cause different dreams; and hence it is that lying cold breedeth dreams of fear, and raiseth the thought and image of some fearful object (the motion from the brain to the inner parts, and from the inner parts to the brain being reciprocal); and that as anger causeth heat in some parts of the body when we are awake; so when we sleep, the over-heating of the same parts causeth anger, and raiseth up in the brain the imagination of an enemy.' (Leviathan, i. 2.)-Dr. Abercrombie furnishes us with the following instance of a dream caused by cold. Dr. Gregory, who had recently been reading an account of Hudson's Bay, dreamt one night that he spent a winter in that part of the world, and suffered intensely from frost; and upon awaking he found that he had thrown off his bed-clothes during sleep (p. 276). Heat arising from an accumulation of bed-clothes will lead to a dream of an opposite character, the particular ideas associated with the sensation of heat which come in to make up the scenes being dependent, as in the case of Dr. Gregory's dream, on particular circumstances.-The same Dr. Gregory having applied a bottle of hot water to his feet one night in consequence of indisposition, dreamt that he was walking up Mount Etna, and felt the ground under him Dr. Reid, having one night a blister applied to his head, dreamed that he was scalped by a party of Indians. (Abercrombie, id.; Stewart's Philosophy of the Human Mind, vol. i. p. 335.) The writer of this article, when suffering once from acute pains in the back during a rheumatic fever, dreamt that he was pursued by enemies, who were shooting arrows at him, and whose every arrow told.

warm.

g. Sensations in the alimentary canal, sometimes pleasur

Dr. Hartley wrote upon this point with great sagacity; and the only fault in the following extract is the intrusion of a material hypothesis at the end of it The scenes which

important inf

influence represent themselves are taken to be real.

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perhaps wished to complete, when awake, but to no purpose, inasmuch as the associations between the several pairs of ideas in the trains are too faint to bear up against the continual interruptions of sensations. These ideas and trains of ideas occurring in dreams, which we are unable to call up when we are awake, are said to have been forgotten. Dr. Abercrombie gives an instance of a gentleman who, having been something of a Greek scholar in his youth, had afterwards so entirely forgotten the language that he could not even read the words, but who often dreamt of reading Greek works which he had used at college, and in such manner as to understand them. (p. 284.) Sir Walter Scott relates a very extraordinary dream of this kind in his Notes to 'The Antiquary,' in the last edition of the Waverley Novels, to which we must content ourselves with referring the reader.

Now this happens, first, because we have no other reality to oppose to the ideas which offer themselves, whereas in the common fictions of the fancy, while we are awake, there is always a set of real external objects striking some of our senses, and precluding a like mistake there, or if we become quite inattentive to external objects, the reverie does so far put on the nature of a dream as to appear a reality; secondly, the trains of visible ideas which occur in dreams are far more vivid than common visible ideas, and therefore may the more easily be taken for actual impressions. For what reasons these ideas should be so much more vivid, I cannot presume to say. I guess that the exclusion of real impressions has some share, and the increased heat of the brain may have some likewise. The fact is most observable in the first approaches of sleep, all the visible ideas beginning then to be more than usually glaring.' (Observations on Man, vol. i. p. 398, ed. 1810.)

relieve us.

We may observe, that the same revival of long-forgotten ideas and trains of ideas takes place often during delirium, the similarity between our trains in which state and our dreams we have already alluded to. A very singular instance of such revival during delirium is related by Mr. Coleridge, in his 'Biographia Literaria' (vol. i. chap. vi.). To this head is to be referred a remark generally made concerning dreams, that the mind exercises no control over the ideas which compose them, or (as it is otherwise expressed) that the mind does not exert its will upon them, as it does upon ideas composing trains in the waking state. The mind is not diverted from the trains of ideas which pass before it by the occurrence of sensations; thus it need not desire, as it continually does in the waking state, to have the ideas composing the trains rather than the sensations; and thus the ideas are not presented to it, as they continually are in the waking state, in that particular combination which is called desire of the ideas, or willing of the ideas. This, we believe, is the full extent to which the remark coucerning the absence of will (as it is called) over ideas in dreams is true; though, from the manner in which it is expressed, it seems, and indeed it is generally intended, to imply much more.

Thus it is that we never dream of a past event as a past event. Any historical event of which we dream is believed to be taking place before our eyes, and any historical individual to be our companion. Another singular consequence is observable in the case of dreams produced by sensations of bodily pain. The sensation of the pain may call up, as well as kindred ideas of pain and its causes, an idea of that which will remove the pain, which, when we are awake, must often follow the sensation of pain; and this idea will be taken for the actual presence of that which is fitted to When, for instance, we hunger or thirst in sleep, these uneasy sensations call up respectively the ideas of food or drink; we believe that we have food or drink in our possession, but (the hunger or thirst of course continuing) we go on to dream of some occurrence which prevents the satisfaction of our appetites; or perhaps we have the idea of the taste of the food or drink, and believe that we have the sensation of tasting, but yet the hunger or thirst is not allayed. Immediately some other viand or beverage presents itself to us; again are we debarred from the enjoyment, or again do we taste and profit not; and thus does the dream proceed until we awake.

The incongruity of dreams, or (in other words) the grouping of objects in our dreams which could not exist together in reality, results immediately from this mistaking of ideas for sensations. There is no more incongruity in the collocation of our ideas themselves during sleep, than in that of our ideas in the waking state. In both states they follow one another according to the same law. But when we have ideas of objects during sleep, we believe that the objects are themselves present; and though the collocation of the ideas is natural, and such as would excite no surprise in the waking state, the collocation of the objects is strange, and would then also excite surprise. Dreams, though only trains of ideas, are believed at the time (as has been explained) to be successions of objects; and when afterwards remembered as such, they seem strange and incongruous. Dryden's poetical description and instance may here relieve the weariness of

our own prose :—

Dreams are the interludes which fancy makes:
When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes,
Compounds a medley of disjointed things,
A court of coblers or a mob of kings.'

When we are awake, we are said to will bodily actions, and to will mental actions or ideas. Now, when we are asleep, we will bodily actions likewise; but from the manner in which the body is affected during sleep, the actions do not follow the state of mind called will, as they do when we are awake. We will to run from an enemy who, we believe, is pursuing us, but we cannot run; the muscles are so affected in sleep that their action does not follow the state of mind called will, as it does when we are awake. Every one who has dreamed must have experienced such a dream as this, and must remember the fear which follows it. But the circumstance that the action does not follow by no means affects the existence of the state of mind called will during dreams; and in sleep therefore, as in the waking state, we will bodily actions. Again, as regards mental actions or ideas, we exert our will over these, in the waking state, either by attending to them, or by endeavouring to recollect them, and in no other way; and every one who has dreamed must be conscious of attention to trains of ideas during his dreams, and of endeavours to recollect ideas. Thus neither as regards mental actions is there any absence during dreams of the state of mind called will.

The only difference in respect of this state of mind between dreams and waking trains is, as we have said, that in the former there is not so much need of attention to the ideas as in the latter; inasmuch as dreams are not interrupted by sensations, as are trains of ideas in the waking state. 3. Our measure of time during dreams appears not to coincide with that in the waking state. Having fallen asleep for a few moments, we believe that we go through, before we awake, a series of events which would occupy, did they really happen, days or months, or even years. And the same takes place often, when a sensation occurs to awake us, in the brief interval between the having of the sensation and the waking. Dr. Abercrombie gives the following instance, which will serve us as well as any other for illustration: A gentleman dreamed that he had en listed as a soldier, joined his regiment, deserted, was appichended, carried back, tried, condemned to be shot, and at last led out for execution. After all the usual preparations, a gun was fired: he awoke with the report, and found that and awaked hind. p. 279. Again: A friend of mine, a noise in an adjoining room had both produced the dream Dr. Abercrombie, dreamed that he crossed the Atlantic,

2. There being no sensations in sleep, as in the waking state, to break off the trains of our ideas, the associations which have been at any previous time or times formed between these ideas have more uninterrupted play when we are asleep than when we are awake. When we are awake, one idea calls up another, this perhaps a third, and thus a train of ideas is commenced, when of a sudden we see some object; the sensation then takes possession of the mind, and (in the common phrase) the attention is withdrawn from the train of ideas. When we are asleep this cannot happen; and an association between any two ideas has to give way only to a stronger association between one of them and a third. The greater coherency, than if they were made by us when awake, of speeches or essays which we believe in our dreams that we speak or write, has been already noticed. Thus it is that we often go through a repetition in our dreams with considerably greater ease than we can do it when awake. For the same reason again, ideas occur to us in our dreams of which we have not for a very long time been conscious when awake, and which we have been perhaps unable, when anxious to do so, to call up; and trains of ideas are gone through, which we have

and spent a fortnight in America. In embarking on his
return, he fell into the sea; and having awaked with the
fright, discovered that he had not been asleep above ten
minutes.'

| call imperfect. One of these writers is Mr. I ocke, who has expressed a very decided opinion that during sleep we do not always think; his arguments in favour of the opinion being, that all of us are conscious of having no dreams during a considerable portion of the time that we

This discrepancy between our notions of time when we are asleep and when we are awake may be very easily ex-sleep, that some persons even do not dream at all, and that plained. The idea of time is only an idea of so many successions of events, or of ideas, whether called up by these events or otherwise. On looking back through any period of our mental history, if we remember many feelings that have succeeded the one to the other, we have the idea of a long time; if few, of a short one. Now ideas are remembered in proportion as they are interesting or vivid. In the waking state and in sleep the same ideas would pass before the mind during the same time; but in the waking state they would be viewed as ideas only, and the greater number would not be remembered. But in sleep they are believed to be sensations, the events thought of are believed actually to take place, and the ideas thus become interesting to such a degree that they cannot be forgotten. Looking back through these ideas, and remembering every one of them, we judge the time during which they have passed before the mind to have been a long time.

a supposition that the dreams are forgotten almost the very moment after they have taken place is absurd. (Essay on the Human Understanding, 2, i. sec. ii.) If however we do not dream always, how is the beginning of our dreams accounted for? The mind is, on this supposition, at a particular period of sleep, void of ideas; an idea suddenly enters it, and dreaming begins. Now the idea was not called up by an idea antecedent to it, for antecedently there was no idea in the mind. How then did it come to enter the mind? This consideration appears to us adequate to set the question at rest as to whether we dream always or not. Dreaming always, we may remember or forget our dreams according to whether our sleep is deep or slight, and remember them in proportion as it is not deep. One part of the same fit of sleep is more intense than another; the dreamer remembers the dreams of this last part, but forgets those of the first, as regards which it is the same as if he had not dreamt at all. In one state of health the same person has a greater amount of deep sleep than in another; he in consequence remembers his dreams better, or (as he would most probably express it) he dreams more in the second state of health than in the first. Again, one person's bodily constitution is such as to make his sleep generally more intense than that of another person, and in consequence he is less of a dreamer. There have been instances of persons who do not remember ever to have dreamed, and of others who have not remembered any dreams until at a very advanced period of life.

4. It remains to speak of the absence of surprise in dreams. It is not indeed true that the feeling of surprise is altogether absent from dreams, as is generally asserted; while in those cases in which it is absent, and in which its absence is thought worthy of remark, the explanation is simple. In our dreams we believe that we see persons who are either dead or in a distant country, and we are not surprised; we believe that we witness events which happened a very long time ago, and we are not surprised. Now we have the ideas of the persons and events, and we have not at the same time the ideas of the death or the distant country or the distant time at which the event took place; having the ideas of the persons and events, we believe these ideas, as has been already explained, to be sensations; and as we have not, together with the apparent sensations, the ideas of the death, distant country, &c., we have no ideas with which the apparent sensations are incongruous; and there being no incongruity, there is nothing to surprise us. We think of the persons or events, as we might think of them when awake, without certain additional ideas; and not having these additional ideas, we are not surprised at seeing, or believing that we see, the persons or events, any more than we should be surprised at seeing (could we by possibility do so) the same persons or events when we were awake, if we knew not that the person had died or was in another country, or that the event was one of history. This explanation is confirmed by those instances in which we do feel surprise. The idea of a person or event believed to be seen may call up any of the additional ideas that have before been absent. We believe that we see a person, and we then think of his death; we are immediately surprised; and we dream that we are dreaming. Every one who has dreamed must have experienced such a dream as this. II. This second part of the article was to contain so much of the little that is known concerning the state of the body in sleep as is relevant to the subject of dreams.

London Published by Charles Knight. 22. Lules

III. As regards the instances of dreams which we propose
to relate, there are three possible cases; they are either un-
true, or true and explainable by ordinary or natural means,
or else true and not so explainable, and therefore (in the
common phrase) supernatural. Now these instances are
so far authenticated, that we are not authorized altogether
to discredit them. Not discrediting them, we are yet
unable to explain them by the ordinary means; though it
is possible, certainly, that as the dreams and their attendant
circumstances come to us, there may be both some exag-
geration in the dreams themselves, and some omission of in-
cidents previous to the occurrence of the dreams which
might help to explain the attendant circumstances. On
the other hand, the instances (and we are about to give
merely a selection) are numerous.
And again, there is
another set of incidents, also well authenticated, which, like
these instances of dreams, are, if we believe them as they
are related, unsusceptible of explanation by ordinary or
natural means.
appearance of persons, at the moment of death, to friends or
We refer to the many stories told of the
relations at a distance from the spot where the death takes
place. Now these incidents pave the way to some extent
for a belief in the supernatural character of such dreams as
we are about to relate. If these incidents are believed to
be supernatural, there is no reason why there should not
also be supernatural dreams. We must observe however
that in calling either the incidents to which we have re-
ferred or the dreams supernatural, we mean no more than
that they cannot be explained by natural means.
cannot say how they were brought about; neither can we
say, looking at the particular circumstances under which
they happened and the particular persons to whom they
happened, why they were brought about.

The organs of the five external senses are so affected by sleep, that the sensations which respectively pertain to them are either not felt at all, or are felt very much less often, and very much less, than when we are awake, and even when they are felt they generally awake us. But of this we have already spoken.

We have also spoken of the effects of sensations of bodily pain and of internal sensations on dreams. The manner in which sickness, through the medium of internal sensations, intensifies dreams, is familiar to every one.

We

The first instance that we give is of a dream which oc curred to a gentleman now alive, and which was related It is a question whether sleep operates on the mind as by him to members of his family who are also now alive, well as on the body; whether, while it suspends the action and to other persons, on the day after he dreamt it, and of the body, it also, either through the body or otherwise, before the event which he seems to have foreseen in his suspends the action of the mind. This is a question on dream was known. We extract the account of the dream, which we cannot speak positively, and on which our opi-making some immaterial alterations, from a book called nion can be determined only by the greater probability of the Royal Book of Dreams,' in which it is given with the greatest particularity. In the night of the 11th of May, 1812, Mr. Williams, of Scorrior House, near Redruth, in Cornwall, awoke his wife, and, exceedingly agitated, told her that he had dreamt that he was in the lobby of the House of Commons, and saw a man shoot with a pistol a gentleman who had just entered the lobby, who was said to be the chancellor; to which Mrs. W. replied that it was only a dream, and recommended him to go to sleep as soon

the one side or of the other.

Some writers assert that we do not always dream when we are asleep. They say that the proper effect of sleep is to suspend the action of the mind as well as of the body, and that, to the extent to which we dream, sleep is impaired. They speak of two kinds of sleep, the one in which we do not dream, and which they call perfect sleep; the other, in which we dream, and which they

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| I. and of the fire to the old woman is no more extraordinary than that of the death of Mr. Perceval to a gentleman who had never seen him, and was in no way connected with him. It is signed Richard Fiennes, to whom, it is to be presumed, the Concordance once belonged; and it is dated September 14th, 1666, the year of the fire of London. In the yeare 1653, on the 26th day of May, Mr. Fortescue of Ware, in the county of Devon, a person of greate honoure and sobriety, told me at Heanton in the said county, in the presence of my nephew, Roll, and other gentlemen of quality, that there was a woman of his knowledge, that was then living, that many yeares before the warres had a vision of them, and of the king's beheading, and amongst many other particulars, of the destruction of London. This I writt down in my Almanack for the yeare 1653, the same day it was told me with Avertat Deus under it; but it hath pleased God that for our sinne London is allsoe now consumed. I pray God we may all receive instruction by it.'

as he could. He did so; but shortly after he again awoke
her, and said that he had, a second time, had the same
dream. The same vision was repeated a third time; on
which, notwithstanding his wife's entreaties that he would
lie quiet and endeavour to forget it, he arose (then between
one and two o'clock) and dressed himself. At breakfast
the dreams were the sole subject of conversation; and in
the forenoon Mr. W. went to Falmouth, where he related
the particulars of them to all of his acquaintance that he
met. On the following day, Mr. Tucker, of Trematon
Castle, accompanied by his wife, a daughter of Mr. W.,
went to Scorrior House on a visit. Mr. W. related to Mr.
T. the circumstance of his dreams; on which Mr. T. ob-
served that it would do very well for a dream to have the
chancellor in the lobby of the House of Commons, but that
he would not be found there in reality. Mr. T. then asked
what sort of a man he appeared to be, when Mr. W. de-
scribed him minutely. Mr. T. replied, "Your description
is not at all that of the chancellor, but is very exactly that
of Mr. Perceval, the chancellor of the exchequer.' He
then inquired whether Mr. W. had ever seen Mr. Perceval,
and was told that he had never seen him, nor had ever had
anything to do with him; and further, that he had never
been in the House of Commons in his life. At this moment
they heard a horse gallop to the door of the house; and
immediately after a son of Mr. Williams entered the room,
and said that he had galloped out from Truro, having seen
a gentleman there who had come by that evening's mail
from town, and who had been in the lobby of the House
of Commons on the evening of the 11th, when a man called
Bellingham had shot Mr. Perceval. After the astonish-
ment which this intelligence created had a little subsided,
Mr. W. described most minutely the appearance and dress
of the man that he saw in his dream fire the pistol at the
chancellor, as also of the chancellor. About six weeks
after, Mr. W. having business in town, went, accompanied
by a friend, to the House of Commons, where, as has been
already observed, he had never before been. Immediately
that he came to the steps at the entrance of the lobby, he
said, "This place is as distinctly within my recollection, in
my dream, as any room in my house;" and he made the
same observation when he entered the lobby. He then
Fointed out the exact spot where Bellingham stood when
he fired, and which Mr. Perceval had reached when he was
struck by the ball, where he fell. The dress both of Mr.
Perceval and Bellingham agreed with the description given
by Mr. W., even to the most minute particulars.' This
dream is related also by Dr. Abercrombie (p. 300), with a
slight variation as to the time that elapsed between the
dream and the announcement of the event, and with some
additional circumstances.

The two following are among many instances mentioned
by Dr. Abercrombie, who vouches for their truth. A Scotch
clergyman, who lived near Edinburgh, dreamt one night,
while on a visit in that town, that he saw a fire, and one
of his children in the midst of it. On awaking, he instantly
got up and returned home with the greatest speed. He
found his house on fire, and was just in time to assist in
saving one of his children, who in the alarm had been left in
a place of danger. Two sisters had been for some days
attending a sick brother, and one of them had borrowed a
watch from a friend, her own being under repair. The sisters
were sleeping together in a room communicating with that
of their brother, when the elder awoke in a state of great agi-
tation, and roused the other to tell her that she had had a
frightful dream. I dreamt,' she said, that Mary's watch
stopped; and that when I told you of the circumstance,
you replied, Much worse than that has happened; for
's breath has stopped also,"-naming their sick
brother. The watch, however, was found to be going cor-
rectly, and the brother was sleeping quietly. The dream
recurred the next night; and on the following morning,
one of the sisters having occasion to seal a note, went to
get the watch from a writing-desk in which she had de-
posited it, when she found that it had stopped. She rushed
into her brother's room in alarm, remembering the dream,
and found that he had been suddenly seized with a fit of
suffocation, and had expired. (Abercrombie's Intellectual
Powers, pp. 289-302.)

We shall conclude these instances with an account of two concurrent dreams furnished by Dr. Abercrombie, which were not, like those we have already given, followed by the event on which they are said to have turned, but of which the coincidence is very extraordinary. A young man, who was at an academy a hundred miles from home, dreamt that he went to his father's house in the night, tried the front-door, but found it locked; got in by a back-door, and, finding nobody out of bed, went directly to the bed-room of his parents. He then said to his mother, whom he found awake, "Mother, I am going a long journey and am come to bid you good bye." On this, she answered under much agitation, "Oh dear son, thou art dead!" He instantly awoke, and thought no more of his dream, until a few days after, he received a letter from his father, inquiring very anxiously after his health, in consequence of a frightful dream his mother had on the same night in which the dream now mentioned occurred to him. She dreamt that she heard some one attempt to open the front-door, then go to the back-door, and at last come into her bed-room. She then saw it was her son, who came to the side of her bed, and said, "Mother, I am going a long journey and I am come to bid you good bye;" on which she exclaimed, "Oh dear son, thou art dead!" But nothing unusual happened to either of the parties.' (p. 295.)

Instances of such dreams as these have been related in all times. The dream of Cæsar's wife, Calpurnia, the night before the assassination (Sueton. Cæsar, 81), is such an instance.

There are many dreams recorded both in the Old and the New Testament, which, together with the attendant circumstances, rest on very strong historical evidence, resembling the instances occurring in what is called profane history; and a supernatural agency being admitted in them, there is no reason why it should not exist also in other instances of dreams. For when once we allow the inadequacy of natural means for the explanation of a particular phenomenon, we cannot stop where we please, and say there is a reason why supernatural causes should have operated in this case, but there is none why they should have operated in that. In speaking of supernatural causes or of supernatural agency, phrases to which we attach no definite posi tive meaning, and which we can only explain negatively, we confess our inability to account for the manner in which an event or events came to pass; and if unable to account for the manner, we cannot take upon ourselves to explain the reason of the occurrence.

The supernatural interpositions to which, in our difficulty, we resort for aid, must, if they exist, be determined by general laws, which in the course of time it either may or may not be given to men to know. At present we see only the particular interpositions, particular events belonging to another system, which we call supernatural, which is governed, however, doubtless, like our own or the natural system, by general laws, and which moves perhaps co-ordinately with this to a common end; and knowing not the laws of that system, nor the connexion between it and our own, we can do no more at present than record the particular instances. It is certainly not philosophical to refer each particular interposition to a particular providence, as is done by Bishop Bull in his sermon concerning the The following is written in the fly-leaf of an old copy of Holy Office of Angels; but in an admission of our own Cotton's Concordance, belonging to a friend of the writer of ignorance, combined with an opinion that the interposi this article. Its circumstantial manner of narration entitles tions (as they are called) are regulated by general laws, it to belief; and the prediction of the beheading of Charles there seems to be nothing to be objected to. P. C., No. 549.

VOL. IX.-U

Many dreams which have in former times been accounted | population of the entire province is about 50,000. [KAMsupernatural, as revealing facts and truths of science, may PEN, &c.] doubtless be explained by means within our own knowledge. We have spoken of Franklin's belief in revelations made to him during dreams concerning political events, and have given a natural explanation of their revelations. The dream which is related in Sir Walter Scott's Notes to The Antiquary would, there is little doubt, have formerly been considered supernatural.

DRESDEN, the capital of the kingdom of Saxony (in the circle of Meissen), is situated on both banks of the Elbe, in 51° 3' N. lat., and 13° 34′ E. long., at an elevation of about 410 feet above the level of the sea: it is equidistant from Frankfort and Hamburg, Vienna and Munich, Stockholm and St. Petersburg. The fine plain in which it stands is bounded on the east by the eminences which belong to the Saxon Switzerland and are mostly crowned with vineyards and gardens: on the south and south-west there are similar elevations, which are the termination of the Erzgebirge or Ore-mountains of Saxony and Bohemia, on this side. Westward lies the beautifully romantic vale of rocks,' or 'Plauische Grund,' through which the Weiseritz flows before it traverses part of Dresden and falls into the Elbe. On the north-western side of the city the Elbe winds round an enclosure planted with avenues of trees, and on the north the distance is bounded by a succession of hills, in general covered with firs and pines. Though Dresden does not rank among the largest, it is certainly one of the most agreeable and interesting capitals in Europe, and well deserves the appellation of the German Florence.' It is divided into three parts; on the left bank of the Elbe is Dresden Proper, or the Altstadt' (Old Town,) with its three suburbs, and the Friedrichs-stadt,' which is separated from it by the Weiseritz: these two quarters form by far the larger portion of the city, and are disjoined from the third, or the 'Neustadt' (New Town,) by the Elbe, which is here 480 feet in breadth. In continuation of the New Town, there are some later erections, called the Neue Anbau,' or new There is a long Essay on the Phenomenon of Dream-buildings, which form a kind of suburb to it. The space ing' in Baxter's Inquiry into the Nature of the Human gained by levelling the fortifications in the years 1810 and Soul; the object of which is to prove that dreams are 1817 has been appropriated to gardens, promenades, and brought about by the agency of spirits. However fanciful building. is this object, the essay is valuable, as containing many facts and displaying much ingenuity.

There are several instances of dreams, similar to those related of himself by Franklin and that related by Sir Walter Scott, given by Henry More in his Immortality of the Soul,' (ii. 16,) all of which may be explained similarly; as, for instance, the dream of Avenzoar Albumaron, an Arabian physician, to whom his lately deceased friend suggested in his sleep 'a very soverain medicine for his sore eyes.' Indeed all dreams of the appearance of ghosts, where they are believed to relate what may have been before known to the dreamer, may be explained by the two circumstances, that ideas in dreams are taken for sensations, and that trains of ideas associated together are not liable to be interrupted by sensations, as they are in sleep. Mr. Coleridge has very happily observed that, in the cases where ghosts are believed to appear in dreams, we have the idea of the person to whom the ghost belongs as being in the room in which we ourselves are sleeping; and further, that such ghosts always appear in a half waking state, when the impressions of the bed, curtains, room, &c., received by the eyes in the half moments of their opening, blend with, and give vividness and appropriate distance to, the dream image, which returns when they close again.' (Literary Remains, vol. i. p. 202.)

Dresden contains altogether 11 gates or entrances, 27 public squares, 146 streets, and 20 churches and chapels, viz. 13 for Lutherans, 1 for Reformed Lutherans, and 6 for Roman Catholics; besides 5 synagogues. The population about two hundred years ago was inconsiderable, as the average births from 1617 to 1725 did not exceed 500 yearly: at the close of the eighteenth century however they rose to 1950, but at the commencement of the present fell to 1600. After the year 1815 they increased again to 1800, and in 1830 had reached 2000. In 1833-1834 the average of births was 2108, and of deaths 2093. In 1813 the number of inhabitants was 41,218; in 1831 it was 63,979; and at present it is upwards of 66,000. Of this number about 4200 are Roman Catholics, and 800 Jews: the remainder are Protestants. The houses, in number about 3000, are principally built of Pirna freestone, and in general are from five to six stories in height.

The theory of dreams is treated briefly in Dr. Hartley's work, in Mr. Stewart's Philosophy of the Human Mind' (vol. i. chap. 8), in which, however, but little is done towards the elucidation of the subject, and in Dr. Beattie's 'Dissertations.' (Lond. 1783, 4to). Dr. Abercrombie's and Mr. Macnish's works are valuable for nothing else than the instances which they furnish. There is an article, occasioned by Mr. Macnish's book, and written by Sir William Molesworth, in the first volume of the London Review,' which shows great metaphysical acumen, and from which the reader will derive much instruction.

The works of Aristotle contain a short treatise on dreams (Tepi 'Evvrviwv); and many valuable observations, as well as fancies, are scattered through the poem of Lucretius. There is also extant, in Greek, a work on dreams by ARTEMIDORUS, besides the Oneirocritikon of Astrampsychus, and that attributed to Nicephorus, a patriarch of Constantinople.

The old town, sometimes called Old Dresden, has four
squares and 41 streets. The most interesting structure in
this quarter is the royal palace, 1300 paces in circuit, which
faces the west side of the bridge: it is an irregular building
in the Gothic style, embellished with a church, which has
the highest tower and steeple in the town. The chief parts
of this edifice are the royal audience chamber, the Roman
Catholic church, called a chapel, adorned with paintings by
Rubens and Mengs, the chamber of ceremony (pracht-
zimmer) on the second floor, the porcelain-cabinet, the walls
of which are ornamented with porcelain, the Proposition-
Saal (hall of propositions), in which the sessions of the
Saxon legislature are opened, the royal library, the hall of
audience, with a splendid ceiling painted by Sylvester, and
the parade-chamber, with paintings by the same master.
The celebrated Grüne Gewölbe (green vault) opens upon
the palace-yard, and contains a costly collection of precious
stones, pearls, and works of art in gold, silver, amber, and
ivory, arranged in eight rooms, the painting of which is
green, and the walls are decorated with mirrors laid into
compartments of marble and serpentine stone. This col-
lection, which was begun by King Augustus, and has been
gradually increased by his successors, is estimated at nearly
one million sterling in value. Close to the palace are the
chancery building, the depository for the national archives,
and the Stallgebäude (mews), in which there are four noble
collections in art, namely, the armoury, the gallery of arms,
the cabinet of casts and models, and the picture gallery.
The armoury contains upwards of 20,000 specimens of ar
mour, weapons, &c., principally from all ages in Saxon and

DRENTHE, a small province in the kingdom of Holland, bounded on the north by Groningen, on the east by the kingdom of Hanover, on the south by Overyssel, and on the west by Overyssel and Friesland. Drenthe lies between 52° 35′ and 53° 12′ N. lat., and between 6° 5' and 7° E. long. Its extreme length from north to south is 41 English miles, and its greatest breadth 39 miles. The soil of the province is in general poor in quality, comprising a large proportion of marsh-land and of sandy wastes. There are only three towns requiring mention, viz.: Assen, the capital, Meppelt, and Koevorden. Assen is about 22 miles south of the town of Groningen; the population in 1814 amounted to 1175 souls, and at present is about 1900. Meppelt, which is in the south-west corner of the province, is more populous, and contains about 5500 inhabitants, many of whom are employed in weaving canvass. Koevorden, situated on the small river Aa, in 52° 41' N. lat. and 6° 42' E. long., stands in a morass. It is a place of great strength, being considered the chef-d'œuvre of Coehorn and the key to the provinces of Overyssel, Groningen, and Friesland. It was besieged in 1672 by the bishop of Munster, and taken by him through the treachery of the governor; but it was soon after retaken by the Dutch. The population is about 2200. In the statistical publications of the Dutch government Drenthe is for most purposes in cluded with the adjoining province of Groningen, so that it is not possible to offer any details of that nature. The