I took off my dress, and, putting on a yellow flannel nightgown,
which I could not help feeling did not agree with my complexion, I
composed myself to rest by reading Blair's Rhetoric and Paley's
Moral Philosophy. I had just put out the light, when I heard
voices in the corridor. I listened attentively. I recognized Mr.
Rawjester's stern tones.

"Have you fed No. 1?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," said a gruff voice, apparently belonging to a domestic.

"How's No. 2?"

"She's a little off her feed, just now, but will pick up in a day
or two!"

"And No. 3?"

"Perfectly furious, sir. Her tantrums are ungovernable."

"Hush!"

The voices died away, and I sank into a fitful slumber.

I dreamed that I was wandering through a tropical forest. Suddenly
I saw the figure of a gorilla approaching me. As it neared me, I
recognized the features of Mr. Rawjester. He held his hand to his
side as if in pain. I saw that he had been wounded. He recognized
me and called me by name, but at the same moment the vision changed