his point the
Luminary must have sunk below the horizon. Possibly his Satellite may
have suffered an eclipse in this quarter of the heavens. I can barely
recall a thin doze, in which these last eloquent fragments, transfigured
into sprites and kobolds, wearing a most diabolical grin, seemed to be
chasing each other in furious and endless succession through my brain,
or playing at hide-and-seek among the convolutions of the cerebrum.
After a while, they wearied of this rare sport, scampered away, and left
me in profound sleep till morning.

VII.--MATINS.

Whank!--tick-a-lick!--ker-thump!--swoosh!--Whank!--tick-a-lick!--
ker-thump!--swoosh!--These were the sounds that first greeted my opening
ears. So, then, we were fairly under way, advancing, if not rejoicing.
Our freighted Icarus was soaring on well-oiled wings: how soon might his
waxy pinions droop under the fierce gaze of the sun! At least it was a
satisfaction to know that thus far the gloomy forebodings of the Seer
had not been fulfilled. On looking out through a six-inch rose-window, I
saw joyous daylight dancing over the boundless, placid waters,--not a
speck of land in sight. We must have started long since; but my eyes,
fast sealed under the opiate rays of the Luminary, had hitherto refused
to ope their lids to the garish beams of his rival. Soon I heard beneath
a rustling snap, as of a bow, and suddenly there sped forth the twanging
shaft of the

_First Victim._--I say!

_Second Victim._--Very sensible, but brief. Give us another bit.

_First Victim._--How are ye this mornin'?

_Second Victim._--Utterly glorified. Delicious sleep,--splendid
day,--balmy air, with condiments thrown in. I hope you are nicely
to-day?

_First Victim._--Wal, no, can't say I be. Feel sort o' seedy like,--feel
jest 's ef I'd ben creouped up in a sugar-box. Couldn't even git a
cat-nap,--didn't sleep a wink.

_Second Victim._--That's bad, indeed; but the bracing air here will
soon----

_First Victim._--Air! That 'ere dock-smell nigh finished me. No
skim-milk smell about that, but the ginooine jam,--an awful pooty
nosegay! 'T was reg'lar rank p'is'n. Never see anythin' like it. Oh,
'twas te'ble! Took hold o' my nose dreffle bad; I'm afeard my stomach'll
be a goner. 'T wa'n't none o' yer sober perfumes nuther, but kind o'
half-seas-over all the time, an' pooty consid'able in the wind. Judge
there's ben a large fatality in cats lately. Ugh! that blamed
dock-smell! Never forg