Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 64: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

— er” 3) groups together all sorts of images and impres- sions, without sequence—without method.” “Then, according to your theory, Agnes,” said Floribel, “the mind must be always thinking. And yet we do not dream all night long.” “There you are wrong, my dear cousin,” replied Miss Evelyn: “we do dream all night long: but when we awake in the morning we only recollect those dreams which were most vivid ard impres- sive at the time. Have you never felt, when slowly awakening, that the last of a train of thoughts seemed to be just gliding out of your mind ?—and then you could not remember what they were. This was the end of adream But I _ have something more to say upon the subject. The mind is stored with millions of #mages and im- pressions, received from books, conversstion, per- sonal experiences, and all external circumstances. As a matter of course this immense crowd of images and impressions is infinitely varied—com- prising the beautiful and the horrible, the pleasing and the painful, the enrapturing and the shocking. When we sleep, the mind—for want of the active wholesome impulse which our own volition and reasoning power give to it when we are awake— plunges as it were into that vortex of varied images and conflicting impressions, and conjures them up at random. WNevertheless, they some- times appear to weave themselves together in a sort of natural sequence; so that the dreamer fancies himself to be hurried through a train of successive adventures. And observe! when we sleep the mind is always more likely to reproduce the latest or the most prominent impressions made upon it during the day ; so that we see 50 re- enact in our slumber that which we performed when we were awake; but the circumstances so re- enucted are usually exaggerated, either in their beauty or their horror, their pleasure or their pain- fulness, by the fantastic aberrations of the mind when the reasoning power is dormant. You can in a moment understend how erratic and wayward is the mind when the volition slumbers or the reasoning power dozes; for even if when wide awake we abandon ourselves to reverie, we soon find ourselves falling into a train of faxtastic | ideas, for the very sillineas of which we blush the moment we start up from that reverie agair.” Floribel listened with a deep attention to theso explanations which Agnes gave so lucidly, and yet with a certain modest bashfulness as if she were afraid of incurring the suspicion that she sought ft» make a display of her superior intelligence. When she had ceased speaking, Miss Lister re- fiected deeply for upwards of a minute; and then she said, with a sudden brightening-up of the countenance, “ Well, if it be so, and if dreams are only fantastic incongruities—you must further prove the excellence of this theory of your’s when you have heard the vision which so much dis- turbed me last night.” Agnes prepared to listen with attention; and Floribel commenced her explanations in the fol- lowing manner :— “J dreamt that it was in the middle of the day, and that I had just returned home from making some purchases at the West End. I fancied that amongst other things I had bought a new bonnet, which I wore on my return to the villa. Me- thought that on entering our toilet-chamber, I wen ian i OO AGNES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. found you in one of those simple light dresses which you are so fond of wearing; and you imme- diately began to express your regret that I should have purchased a bonnet which you declared to be much too gay and flaunting for a young unmarried lady of my age. We had some little argument on the subject; and I remember that I was so angry I at length tossed down the splendid bonnet on the carpet. Then I fancied that Rachel entered to say that some unknown friend had sent us each @ present; and we desired that those presents might be brought into the room. There was at this point some little confusion in my dream; for I cannot precisely recollect how the objects were conveyed into the apartment: but the next phase of my vision is most vividly depicted in my memory.” Here Fioribel shuddered perceptibly; and it was with more curiosity than Agnes was wont ordinarily to experience, that she awaited the con- tinuation of the narrative. : “ I next fancied,” proceeded Floribel, “ that you were standing at the toilet-table, preparing to open a beautiful box, elaborately carved, and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. It seemed to be of ebony, and was about the size of a work-box. At the same time I was preparing to open a very large box which had been deposited on the floor. © I thought it was of a singular shape: it was as long as a coffin, but yet not of a coffin’s form: it seemed to be a very lengthy trunk, but remarkably narrow. I was full of wonder as to what it could possibly contain: but I conjectured that it might be some exquisitely modelled statue. I opened it ;—-and, O Agnes! a hideous death’s head grinned up at me from the interior of thet box. It wasa skeleton from around the bleacted bones of which I had drawn away the winding-sheet! At the same instant you were taking forth from the ebony box a simple chaplet or wreath of flowers; and it was then that I awoke with a start—and I think with a cry—from the strange and frightful dream.” The countenance of Agnes, which had for a few moments expressed horror at a portion of the recital, now became deeply serious. She reflected profoundly ; and Floribel watched her with aften- tion. There was along interval of silence: and it was at last broken by Miss Lister, who said, “Ts there anything in this dream, Agnes, to change your opinion in respect to the theory which you just now advanced ?” Agnes started on being thus addressed; and for a moment she flung a strange look upon Filoribel, —a look in which compassion, astonishment, pain, and dismay were singularly blended. “T can almost conjecture what is passing in your mind,” said Miss Lister. “ You see that the dream has produced a certain effect upon me; and I will candidly admit that for a while it wore— perhaps still wears a significant importance. That is why I asked you your opinion of dreams; for I knew that you were better skilled in such subjects than I myself could possibly be. Yet I am not altogether without common sense. I may be thoughtless at times—it is my nature perhaps; and still that dream had for me a typical or allegorical significancy.” “Do not think so, my sweet cousin!” exclaimed Agnes, pained on Floribel’s account for the turn — comiiceloolkks 2 . (CO)