Let me remember what hideous thing lurks in the mind, and what lurks in our dreams. Is it in the wildest visions that possess our minds?-Or is it the wandering and wondering propensity to cry?-Oh, tell me, I beg! In unhappiness, which, of course, lay sad and desolate, might we hide from our souls? Or are we to never know what desolate thing that lay in our minds.

In the breaking dawn of time, which puts me in awe at last, may we finally see the edge of our dreams or visions? To the cynical, this is untrue, but to the minds of those who love or are playful, this is a fact.

When I was a child, living in a misty, age-old mansion with...