At recise mihat little airy musi doffs his night gear, prepares to tune up his unseasoins, we are not naturalists enough to determine. But for a mere humaleman -- that has no orchestra busio call him from his warm bed to such preposterous exercises -- we take ten, or half after ten (eleven, of course, during this Christmas solstice), to be the very earliest hour, at which he begin to think of abandoning his pillow. To think of it, we say; for to do it in ear, requires another half hood sideration. Not but there are pretty sun-risings, as we are told, and such like gawds, abroad in the world, in summer time especially, some hours before what we have assigned; which a gentleman may see as they say, only fetting up. But, haviempted once or twice, in earlier life, to assist at those ceremonies, we fess our curiosity abated. We are no longer ambitious of being the suns courtiers, to attend at his m levees. We hold the good hours of the dawn too sacred to waste them upon such observances; which have in them, besides, something Pagan and Persic. To say truth, we never anticipated our usual hour, ot up with the sun (as `tis called), to go a journey, or upon a foolish whole days pleasuring, but we suffered for it all the long hours after in listlessness and headachs; Nature herself suffitly declaring her sense of our presumption, in aspiring tulate our frail waking courses by the measures of that celestial and sleepless traveller. We deny not that there is something sprightly and vigorous, at the outset especially, in these break of day excursions. It is flattering to get [p 270] the start of a lazy world; to quer death by proxy in his image. But the seeds of sleep and mortality are in us; and we pay usually in strange qualms, before night falls, the penalty of the unnatural inversion. Therefore, while the busy part of mankind are fast huddling on their clothes, are already up and about their occupations, tent to have swallowed their sleep by wholesale; we chose to linger a-bed, and digest our dreams. It is the very time to rebihe wandering images, whiight in a fused mass preseo snatch them from fetfulness; to shape, and mould them. Some people have no good of their dreams. Like fast feeders, they gulp them too grossly, to taste them curiously. We love to chew the cud of a fone vision to collect the scattered rays of a brighter phantasm, or act ain, with firmer he sadder noal tragedies; t into day-light a struggling and half-vanishing night-mare; to handle and examihe terrors, or the airy solaces. We have too much respect for these spiritual unications, to let them go so lightly. We are not so stupid, or so careless, as that Imperial fetter of his dreams, that we should need a seer to remind us of the form of them. They seem to us to have as much significe as our waking s; or rather to import us more nearly as more nearly roach by years to the shadowy world whither we are hastening. We have shaken hands with the worlds business; we have doh it; we have discharged ourself of it. Why should we get up? we have her suit to solicit, nor affairs to mahe drama has shut in upon us at the fourth act. We have nothio expect, but in a short time a sick bed, and a dismissal. We delight to anticipate death by such shadows as night affords. We are already half acquainted with ghosts. We were never mu the world. Disappoi early struck a dark veil between us and its dazzling illusions. Our spirits showed grey before our hairs. The mighty ges of the world alr