in spring, about their new-made nest. You feel the merry bounding of
a ship before the breeze; and watch the tuneful feet of rosy girls, as
they twine their last and merriest dance in a splendid ballroom; and
find yourself in the brilliant circle of a crowded theatre, as the
curtain falls over a light and airy scene.

With an involuntary start, you seize hold on consciousness, and prove
yourself but half awake, by running a doubtful parallel between human
life and the hour which has now elapsed. In both you emerge from
mystery, pass through a vicissitude that you can but imperfectly
control, and are borne onward to another mystery. Now comes the peal
of the distant clock, with fainter and fainter strokes as you plunge
further into the wilderness of sleep. It is the knell of a temporary
death. Your spirit has departed, and strays like a free citizen,
among the people of a shadowy world, beholding strange sights, yet
without wonder or dismay. So calm, perhaps, will be the final change;
so undisturbed, as if among familiar things, the entrance of the soul
to its Eternal home!