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site of the former fortifications: this avenue derives its name from a piece of sculpture in stone, nearly three centuries old, exhibiting Maurice, the elector, and Augustus, his successor, with their consorts, as large as life; Maurice being represented as threatened by the scythe of death. and delivering his electoral sword to Augustus. In front of the external entrance into the Pirna suburb is the Great Garden, which is nearly five miles in circuit; and to the right lies the Nursery of Fruit Trees, which contains upwards of 65,000 plants, and a building in the centre, where concerts are held every week. The See suburb covers the south-west, and the Wildsruf the western side of the Old Town. From the last-mentioned suburb is an avenue called the Ostra-Allee, on one side of which are Prince Maximilian's palace, gardens, and observatory, and the buildings where the silver bullion is pressed, cut, and prepared for use at the Mint: this avenue opens upon a massive bridge across the Weiseritz, which leads to the Friedrichs-stadt (Fredericstown or Neu-Ostra), the second grand quarter of Dresden, between which and the Elbe are the wooded grounds, called the Ostra-Gehege. Here are the cemetery and infirmary for Roman Catholics, in which is Balth; Permoser's monument to his own memory, chiselled by himself, and representing the Descent from the Cross; the Marcolini Palace and grounds, with an observatory, chapel, and collection of engravings, and drawings in sepia by Seidelmann, and in the grounds Mutielli's fine marble group of Neptune, drawn by sea-horses, and attended by marine deities and tritons, in the act of crowning Amphitrite with a wreath, the group serving as the channel for a cascade; the Freemason's Lodge; and a riding-house. This part of Dresden is inhabited almost entirely by mechanics and others of the lower classes.

German history; the gallery of arms, a hall one hundred paces in length, comprises 2000 specimens of antient and modern arms, weapons used in hunting, &c.; the cabinet of casts was formed by Raphael Mengs, purchased by the late king, and enlarged by casts moulded by Bianconi of Rome. The picture gallery, in the upper story of the building, is composed of the outer gallery, which runs round the four sides of the Stallgebäude, the inner gallery towards the yard, and the Pastell-cabinet. The outer gallery contains above 500 paintings of the Flemish school, 90 of the Italian, and many of the French and German: the inner gallery is occupied by 356 specimens of the Italian school; and the Pastell-cabinet comprises 150 paintings of various masters. Near this building stands the Palace of Princes, in which are a handsome chapel, a gallery of portraits of princes of the Saxon and Bavarian lines, a porcelain cabinet, a library of 10,000 volumes, and cabinet of engravings. It is the residence of the co-regent, Prince John. A covered way leads from this palace to the opera-house, where there is space on the stage for 500 performers, and in the house itself for 8000 spectators. The square adjoining it is called the Zwinger; three sides of it are occupied by six pavilions connected by a gallery one story high; the quadrangle contains four fountains and three hundred orange trees. The six pavilions, which are profusely ornamented, contain a museum of natural history, consisting of four galleries and six saloons; a cabinet of engravings, comprising 200,000 plates and upwards, arranged in twelve classes; a collection of mathematical and philosophical instruments; a collection of works of art in ivory, alabaster, silver, iron, wood, &c.; a chamber of models useful in hydrography, mining, military architecture, &c.; and a miscellaneous cabinet.

The other buildings of note in the Old Town are the Brühl Palace, at present the residence of one of the royal family. It is the principal depository for the Meissen china; and behind it are spacious gardens and grounds, commanding delightful views of the banks of the Elbe and the surrounding scenery. Immediately adjacent are the hall, in which there is an annual exhibition of the productions of Saxon artists; the Academy of Arts and School of Design, and the Gallery of Duplicates, in which there are 250 paintings for which there was not sufficient room in the Great Gallery, and the celebrated tapestries worked after Raphael's designs. On one side of the square of St. Mary's church is the Mint; and adjoining it is the Arsenal, which contains a valuable collection of every kind of arms, and in one of the apartments, the portraits of all the Saxon sovereigns from Maurice to the present times. Facing the Arsenal stands the Academical Building, now used for a medical and surgical school; below it there is a subterraneous hall decorated with paintings by Francisco Casanova. In the Pirna Street is the House of Assembly, a building of two stories, where the states hold their sittings and committees. The only handsome square in the Old Town is the Old Market Place, of which the town-hall is the great ornament. In this direction he also the royal mansion and garden, now a botanical garden, New Post-Office, Kaufhalle (Trades' Hall), with its colonnade, Treasury, German theatre, two royal villas, with fine gardens and chapels, the Observatory and grounds attached, the Mews and Riding School, Military Hospital and gardens, and the Orphan Asylum and church. The most remarkable churches in the Old Town are, St. Mary's, built in 1726, after the model of St. Peter's at Rome; the Church of the Cross, a parallelogram, with a steeple 305 feet in height containing three tiers of columns; the Protestant church of St. Sophia, an irregular structure erected in 1351; and the Roman Catholic chapel or church of the court, begun in 1751 by Gaetano Chiavero, on which more than 30,0007. have been expended. This chapel is connected with the royal palace, has two side churches, and a pyramidically disposed steeple, with three tiers of columns, in all 302 feet high, and contains the vaults for the royal family, besides a multitude of paintings, statues, monuments, carvings, altars, &c.

The

The access from the old town to the new town, the third grand quarter of the city, which lies to the north east on the right bank of the Elbe, is across the palace square and celebrated stone bridge, called the Bridge of the Elbe, from its being the largest and handsomest structure of the kind which traverses that river. It is also denominated Augustus's Bridge, in honour of Augustus II., its founder. It is the work of Pöpelmann, rests on sixteen arches, is 1420 feet long and 36 broad, and was completed in the year 1731. The fourth pier, which was blown up by Marshal Davoust in 1813, was restored by the Russians in the following year. A cast-metal gilt crucifix, resting on a gilt copper globe placed on a mass of rustic stone about 28 feet in height stands upon the fifth pier. The bridge opens, on the new town side, upon an inclosed space, planted with linden-trees, 400 paces in length and 20 in breadth, and embellished with an equestrian statue of Augustus II., arrayed in the imperial costume of antient Rome, with a modern wig and field-marshal's baton, the work of Wiedemann, a coppersmith of Augsburg, and erected in 1723. A broad street, lined with linden-trees runs from the bridge to the northern extremity of the new town; on the western side of it is the Japanese Palace, and parade in front, and on the eastern range of barracks for the cavalry and infantry, for 2300 officers and men, besides horses. palace, now called the Augusteum, has this inscription in front, Museum usui publico patens,' and is the depository of four choice collections:-The Cabinet of Antiquities, founded in 1725, and arranged in 12 spacious and welllighted rooms on the ground-flour, which contains some splendid statues and other remains of antient art; the Cabinet of Coins, founded in 1716, also on the ground-floor, and particularly rich in the coins of Saxony, as well as remarkable for a fine series of medals struck in honour of illustrious individuals of all countries; the Cabinet of Porcelain, displayed in 18 rooms, also on the ground-floor, and containing a rare and extensive collection of china, of Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Meissen, Sévres, &c. manufacture, besides specimens of Florentine and Roman mosaic work, Chinese decorations, Saxon works in marble, &c.; and the Royal Public Library, deposited in three saloons and 21 apartments in the first and second stories, and consisting of Three suburbs are connected with the Old Town by more than 220,000 volumes, 2700 MSS., above 150,00 means of as many avenues; the Pirna, See or Dohna, and pamphlets, and 20,000 maps. Among these are upwards Wildsruf suburbs. The first of these, which extends from of 1600 printed books of the fifteenth century Town-hall; the banks of the Elbe to the Kaidiz brook, has a long street, town also contains the Church of the Trinity: a Town-hall; in which is the palace where the present king usually re: the Cadet Academy; Engineers' School, and Academy fo sides, with delightful grounds attached to it. The Botanical artillery cadets, and the commandant's residence cast of the Garden, belonging to the Medical School, is close adjoin- It streets in all. ing; and likewise Maurice's Avenue, on part of ineguard.nt has 22 at is called the Neue Anbau (new build

To the north-east

ings), a part of the town once an unproductive waste, and first laid out as gardens by some Bohemian gardeners, who settled here in 1730, but the site of which is becoming gradually occupied by handsome residences. It contains a playhouse and baths, a house of industry, schools for the indigent and for the garrison of Dresden, and a spacious cemetery. The house for the reception of bodies of unknown persons has been lately decorated with the Dance of Death, a rude sculpture in stone containing 24 figures.

the Blaise. On a hill which commands the town are the
remains of the antient castle of the counts of Dreux: in
the midst of these ruins rises the new chapel built on the
site of a former collegiate church by the late duchess
dowager of Orléans. The houses of the town are partly of
brick, partly of wood, and partly of plaster: there is a
small promenade, an alley of trees planted along the river,
and called Boulevart. The town-hall is a Gothic building;
and there is, beside the chapel mentioned above, a parish
church, also Gothic: before the Revolution there were two
parish churches. The population, in 1832, was 5166 for
the town, or 6249 for the whole commune. The inhabi-
tants manufacture serges, blankets, hosiery, and other
woollen goods, hats, and leather: there are tan-mills and
dye-houses: beside the articles which they manufacture,
they carry on trade in sheep and cattle. There are three
fairs in the year. There is a good hospital and a high
school. The arrondissement of Dreux had, in 1832, a popu-
lation of 70,532.
DRIFFIELD. [YORKSHIRE.]

DRILL, the course of instruction in which the soldier
is taught the use of arms and the practice of military evo-
lutions.
DRILL HUSBANDRY. [DRILLING.]

In the list of public establishments not hitherto noticed are a High School (the Kreutz-schule,) conducted by 12 masters, and attended by about 400 pupils; two schools for teachers, in which the deaf and dumb are taught; 23 free and elementary schools for about 3000 Protestant children; an asylum for the reformation of depraved children; three infant schools; several public schools for the children of the townsmen; the Schmalz foundation for educating poor children; and a public school for girls. Dresden contains altogether 71 establishments for Protestant education. The Catholics have a High School, the Josephina Foundation, for the education of the superior class of females, two ordinary schools, a free school, and a school for educating 12 soldiers' children, attached to the latter. To these should be added the Free Masons' School (with about 100 children) and a Veterinary School. The number of institutions for the sick and maimed and orphans is eight, including three hospitals. There are a variety of learned and other societies, the chief of which are the Academy of Arts, the Society of Economy, which promotes the various interests connected with Saxon industry, the Mineralogical, the Natural History and Medical, the Bible, the Missionary, and the Saxon Antiquities Societies. The number of benevolent institutions and societies of all descriptions is 78.

DRILLING is a mode of sowing by which the seed is deposited in regular equidistant rows, at such a depth as each kind requires for its most perfect vegetation. It has been practised by gardeners from time immemorial, and from the garden it has gradually extended to the field. In those countries where maize or Indian corn is extensively cultivated the seed is always deposited in rows; and during the growth of the plants the soil in the intervals is repeatedly hoed and stirred to a considerable depth, as is likewise the practice in vineyards. This cultivation not only keeps the land free from weeds, but by allowing the dews and the influence of the atmosphere to penetrate into the earth, greatly encourages the vegetation and growth of the plants.

It was no doubt from observing the effect produced by stirring the soil that Jethro Tull and his followers adopted the theory, that finely-divided earth formed the chief food of plants; and this led to the adoption of the row culture for every species of plant, and horse-hoeing the intervals, from which the practice obtained the name of the horsehoeing husbandry. This was at one time thought so important a discovery as to be called the new husbandry, which was expected by its most zealous supporters entirely to supersede the old methods.

Dresden has no external trade or manufactures of much importance. It is a place of transit for colonial and other foreign produce from Magdeburg, Hamburg, &c., and has five general fairs, besides a yearly fair in June, at which a considerable quantity of wool is sold. Its mechanics have obtained some note in Germany for the manufacture of mathematical, mechanical, and musical instruments, engraving on steel and stone, the making of gloves, carpets, turnery ware, jewellery, straw hats, painters' colours, &c. These mechanics are incorporated into 60 fraternities. Morocco and other leather, refined sugar, tobacco, white lead, tin ware, glass, stockings, cotton goods, &c. are also manufactured, but not on an extensive scale. There is a foundry for bomb-shells and cannon, and a yearly exhibition of Saxon manufactures. The municipal expenses of the town are about 49,000 dollars (69007.) a year.

The immediate vicinity of Dresden abounds in places of public resort, and its environs are full of attractions for strangers, among which we may notice the villages of Lochwitz, Kreischa, and Dohna, the scenery called the Schlottwitzer, and Plauische Grund, the antient burg of Tharant, the vale of Seifersdorf, the Saxon Switzerland, Pillnitz, with its summer palace, and the village of Schandau. DREUX, a town in France, the chief place of an arrondissement in the department of Eure et Loir. It is on the river Blaise, a tributary of the Eure, 41 miles from Paris, in a straight line west by south, or 50 miles by the road through Versailles and Houdan; in 48° 43′ N. lat., and 1° 21 E. long. It is on the great western road to Alençon, Laval, Rennes, St. Brieuc, and Brest.

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The system of Tull has been long proved to have been founded on erroneous principles. Tull himself was ruined by his experiment; and his warmest admirers, Du Hamel, Du Monceau, and De Châteauvieu, were forced to admit its fallacy, after having suffered considerable loss by adopting its practice. But the advantage of sowing the seed in rows or drills has stood the test of experience; and the drill husbandry, by combining the advantages of continued tillage with those of manure and a judicious rotation of crops, decided improvement on the old methods of sowing all seeds broad-cast. The crops which are now most generally drilled are potatoes, turnips, beans, peas, beet-root, coleseed, and carrots; and in general all plants which require room to spread, whether above or under the ground. The distance between the rows in these crops is generally such Dreux was known under the Romans by the name as to allow the use of a light plough or horse-hoe to be Durocasses, and appears to have been included in the terri-drawn by a horse between them without endangering the tories of the Carnutes. From Durocasses the name was growing plants. The most common distance is twenty-seven contracted into Droca, from which the modern form Dreux inches, where the row culture is practised in its greatest is derived. The town with the surrounding district, form- perfection, which is in the north of England and in Scoting the county of Dreux, was included in the acquisitions land. The Northumberland mode of cultivating turnips, made by the Northmen or Normans in France, but was which is adopted by most scientific farmers, and seems to early taken from them, and became part of the domain of have decided advantages, consists in placing the manure in the French crown. It continued, after several changes, to be rows immediately under the line in which the seed is to be held by a remote branch of the Bourbon family up to the drilled, and keeping the intervals in a mellow and pulvertime (we believe) of the French Revolution. In December, ized state by repeated stirring. In this mode of sowing the 1562, a severe action was fought in the plain of Dreux, be- seeds vegetate more rapidly, and are sooner out of danger tween the rivers Eure and Blaise, between the royal Catholic from the fly, and the crop is more certain as well as heavier. army under the Constable Montmorency and the army of Should the turnips fail, which with every precaution will the Calvinists under the prince of Condé and the Admiral sometimes happen, the land has had the benefit of a comColigny. The Calvinists were defeated, and the prince of plete fallow, and is well prepared for any other crop. Condé taken prisoner. In A.D. 1593, Dreux, which was in the possession of the party of the League, was taken by Henri IV. after a vigorous resistance of 15 or 18 days.

The town, which is in a pleasant country, is traversed by

The instrument used for sowing turnips and other seeds in single rows is sometimes a small light wheel-barrow, which a man pushes before him; hence called a drill-barrow. It has a box in which the seed is put, with a slide to regulate

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the quantity. This is allowed to fall on a wooden or metal | a small wheel D on the axis of the cylinder in A, and this
cylinder below. In the circumference of this cylinder are turns another wheel C on the axis of the cylinder in B. As
several cavities where the seed lodges, and is carried down these two wheels move towards each other, the two cylin-
into a tin funnel below; the remainder is prevented from fall-ders turn in contrary directions, which is a convenience in
ing through by small brushes in which the eylinder turns. throwing the seed and the manure into the funnels KK
The motion is communicated from the wheel which runs on at the same time. The wheel F may be lifted up by means
the ground to the cylinder by means of a chain on two pul- of a lever G, and then the cylinders do not revolve. There
lies placed on the axes of the wheel and cylinder.
are various other contrivances which cannot well be ex-
plained without a more detailed figure of the different parts.
In some districts there is still a prejudice against the use
of the drill even for turnips. In Norfolk, where the corn is
usually drilled, the turnips are still very generally sown
broad-cast. The cause of this appears to be, that as the
cultivation of turnips was first introduced from Flanders
into Norfolk, and in Flanders turnips are never drilled,
because there they are generally sown as a second crop im-
mediately after rye harvest, they have continued the old
method first introduced, and the labourers are become very
skilful in setting out the plants at proper distances with the
hand-hoe. In the north they were introduced at a later
date, and the improved mode of sowing in rows was im-
mediately adopted. The Norfolk farmer insists that the
barley, usually sown after turnips, is better when the ma-
nure has been equally distributed than when it lies in rows,
as the land is only slightly ploughed after sheep have been
folded on the turnips, and the manure remains in stripes.
On the whole, however, drilling in the Northumberland
method seems to be the best practice, and is adopted very
generally by all scientific farmers.

The improved Northumberland drill, of which a figure is annexed, is a more perfect as well as more complicated instrument. It is supported on two wheels, and drawn by a horse. It sows ground bones, ashes, rape cake, or any other dry manure at the same time with the seed. The body of the drill consists of two boxes, A and B, divided by a partition between them, and each again divided into two by another partition at right-angles to the first. In the box A dais put the manure, in B the seed. Iron slides are fixed in each compartment to regulate the supply of seed or manure. In the lower part of the boxes, and just before the opening, which is regulated by the slides, are two cylinders, one for the box A and another for B. On the cylinder in A are fixed shallow cups with short stems, which dip in the bones and carry a certain quantity over the cylinder as it turns, which falling in the funnels K K is deposited in the furrows made by the coulters H H. The cylinder in the box B has projecting pieces of iron, with a small cavity in each near the end, which takes up a very small quantity of seed, and discharges it in the same manner into the two funnels K K. On the axis of the wheel E is a toothed wheel, which turns

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Northumberland Turnip Drill, drawn from one manufactured by Messrs. Cottam and Hallen, Winsley Street, Oxford Street, London. On light friable soils, drilling the seed is very generally adopted. There is a neatness in the appearance which recommends it to the eye; and machines have been so improved, that the seed is sown more regularly and is better covered than it could possibly be by the best broad-cast sower followed by the harrows. In very stiff heavy soils, and in moist seasons, it is not so practicable to use the drill. It is sometimes impossible to get the land sufficiently dry and pulverized to allow of drilling to advantage; and when the land is wet the tread of the horses would greatly injure it. If wet clay soils were more generally underdrained, and the subsoil plough were used to loosen them to a considerable depth, they might be rendered so dry and friable that the drill could be used at all times.

danger of injuring the plants. This requires great practice and attention; but it may be considered as the perfection of the drill system. Where drilling seed is generally adopted, and the farms are not so large as to make it prudent for the occupier to purchase expensive instruments, drilling is become a separate profession. An industrious man with a small capital buys improved drills, and undertakes to drill the seed at a certain price per acre. The farmer finds horses and seed, and the driller finds the machine, and attends to the management of it himself. By constantly doing the same thing he becomes very expert; and in a neighbourhood where there are many small occupiers, a good drilling-machine, which costs from 301. to 50%, procures the owner a very good livelihood during the whole In poor sandy and gravelly soils where bones have been season of sowing; and if the instruments for hoeing were found of so great advantage as a manure, drilling is the more generally used, the profession of a hoer of land might only mode by which the bones and the seed can be sown in be advantageously united to that of the driller. Corn is contact with each other; an important circumstance. When generally drilled at the distance of eight or nine inchech the ground has been well prepared and laid into stitches and a machine which drills twelve rows will cover a stitch of a convenient width, a whole stitch may be drilled at ten feet wide. Some prefer the rows to be nearer, but in cnce, with so much regularity, that an instrument with as that case the hoeing is not so easily performed with a many hoes as there are drills, and of the same width, may machine, and it is done by hand. The most improved be drawn over the land to stir all the intervals, without machine for drilling is Cook's patent lever drill, which sows

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 his ear, especially if this was done by a friend with whose voice he was familiar. At one time they conducted him through the whole progress of a quarrel, which ended in a duel; and when the parties were supposed to be met, a pistol was put into his hand, which he fired, and was awakened by the report. On another occasion, they found him asleep on the top of a locker or bunker in the cabin, when they made him believe he had fallen overboard, and exhorted him to save himself by swimming. He immediately imitated all the motions of swimming. They then told him that a shark was pursuing him, and entreated him to dive for his life. He instantly did so, with such force as to throw himself entirely from the locker upon the cabin floor, by which he was much bruised, and awakened of course. After the landing of the army at Louisburg, his friends found him one day asleep in his tent, and evidently much annoyed by the cannonading. They then made him believe that he was engaged, when he expressed great fear, and showed an evident disposition to run away. Against this they remonstrated, but at the same time increased his fears by imitating the groans of the wounded and the dying; and when he asked, as he often did, who was down, they named his particular friends. At last they told him that the man next himself in the line had fallen, when he instantly sprung from his bed, rushed out of the tent, and was roused from his danger and his dream together by falling over the tent-ropes.' (p. 278.)

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.

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 warm. 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.

g. Sensations in the alimentary canal, sometimes pleasur

siderably our waking trains of ideas; and much more, in-
asmuch as in sleep there are no external objects to call us
away from the ideas which these sensations call up, do they
influence our sleeping trains. When the digestion is good,
and we have ate nothing which weighs upon or disagrees
with the stomach, our dreams are, generally speaking,
pleasurable. When, on the other hand, we suffer from in-
digestion, which, in respect of the effect, is but a name for
an aggregate of painful sensations in the alimentary canal,
we are afflicted with dreams of the most painful character.
The exhilarating effects of opium and of intoxicating
draughts, which effects are neither more nor less than sen-
sations in the alimentary canal, are also discernible in
dreams. And in connexion with this topic, we may allude
to the dreams caused by the uneasy sensations attendant
on obstructed respiration, which, sometimes caused by and
sometimes combined with indigestion, constitute the most
dreadful evils to which in sleep we are subject, and which
are known to all under the name of nightmare.
We have thus explained the law of association which
determines the formation of dreams, and have exemplified
its operation. Thus far, it will be observed, we have
spoken of dreams only in their generic character of trains
of ideas; or, at least, any reference which we have
made to the specific circumstances which distinguish
them from trains of ideas in the waking state has been
incidental. It remains, in order to complete the psycho-
logical theory of dreams, to state and explain the cir-
cumstances 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.
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.

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

present themselves are taken to be real. 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.

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.'

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.

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 concerning 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.

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.

2. There being no sensations in sleep, as in the waking The only difference in respect of this state of mind bestate, to break off the trains of our ideas, the associations tween dreams and waking trains is, as we have said, that in which have been at any previous time or times formed be- the former there is not so much need of attention to the tween these ideas have more uninterrupted play when we are ideas as in the latter; inasmuch as dreams are not interasleep than when we are awake. When we are awake, one rupted by sensations, as are trains of ideas in the waking state. idea calls up another, this perhaps a third, and thus a train of 3. Our measure of time during dreams appears not to ideas is commenced, when of a sudden we see some object; coincide with that in the waking state. Having fallen the sensation then takes possession of the mind, and (in the asleep for a few moments, we believe that we go through, common phrase) the attention is withdrawn from the train before we awake, a series of events which would occupy, of ideas. When we are asleep this cannot happen; and an did they really happen, days or months, or even years. And association between any two ideas has to give way only the same takes place often, when a sensation occurs to to a stronger association between one of them and a third. awake us, in the brief interval between the having of the The greater coherency, than if they were made by us when sensation and the waking. Dr. Abercrombie gives the folawake, of speeches or essays which we believe in our lowing instance, which will serve us as well as any other dreams that we speak or write, has been already noticed. for illustration: A gentleman dreamed that he had en Thus it is that we often go through a repetition in listed as a soldier, joined his regiment, deserted, was appieour dreams with considerably greater ease than we can hended, carried back, tried, condemned to be shot, and at do it when awake. For the same reason again, ideas last led out for execution. After all the usual preparations, occur to us in our dreams of which we have not for a a gun was fired: he awoke with the report, and found that

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

a noise in an adjoining room had both produced the dream and awaked him.' (p. 279.) Again: A friend of mine,' says Dr. Abercrombie, dreamed that he crossed the Atlantic,

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