The Yale Literary Magazine, Vol. 17 - Paperback

Excerpt from The Yale Literary Magazine, Vol. 17: August, 1852

Not that we object to dreaming. We cannot deny the soft impeach ment of being ourself a dreamer. We must e'en admit, sub rosa, the having whilom feloniously sequestered and devoured a mince pie, before retiring, to titillate our slumbers with these, airy visitants. That was in our childhood. We have grown wiser, we hope. We prefer day-dream ing, now. Reveries we particularly affect. There is a charm for us in lying under a tree in a pleasant June afternoon, watching the blue smoke as it curls from the end of our cigar. It is pleasant to let our fancy shape the clouds into figures strange and wild, as they drift through the little scrap of blue sky that the interlacing boughs have spared us. It is vastly more agreeable to while away the evening with a pleasant com panion, chatting of little things, recalling old passages of some favorite author, and turning one another's attention to this or that quaint trifle in the present or the past, than to spend it in mastering some abstruse s ence, or exploring the hidden principles of some vast organization.

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