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and　over；　now　presenting　his　unconscious　face　upwards；　now　the　back

of　his　bald　head；　until　the　unnatural　feat　was　accomplished；　and

the　bandage　secured　by　a　pin；　which　I　have　every　reason　to　believe

entered　the　body　of　my　only　child。　　In　this　tourniquet；　he　passes

the　present　phase　of　his　existence。　　Can　I　know　it；　and　smile！



I　fear　I　have　been　betrayed　into　expressing　myself　warmly；　but　I

feel　deeply。　　Not　for　myself；　for　Augustus　George。　　I　dare　not

interfere。　　Will　any　one？　　Will　any　publication？　　Any　doctor？　　Any

parent？　　Any　body？　　I　do　not　complain　that　Mrs。　Prodgit　（aided　and

abetted　by　Mrs。　Bigby）　entirely　alienates　Maria　Jane's　affections

from　me；　and　interposes　an　impassable　barrier　between　us。　　I　do　not

complain　of　being　made　of　no　account。　　I　do　not　want　to　be　of　any

account。　　But；　Augustus　George　is　a　production　of　Nature　（I　cannot

think　otherwise）；　and　I　claim　that　he　should　be　treated　with　some

remote　reference　to　Nature。　　In　my　opinion；　Mrs。　Prodgit　is；　from

first　to　last；　a　convention　and　a　superstition。　　Are　all　the

faculty　afraid　of　Mrs。　Prodgit？　　If　not；　why　don't　they　take　her　in

hand　and　improve　her？



P。S。　　Maria　Jane's　Mama　boasts　of　her　own　knowledge　of　the　subject；

and　says　she　brought　up　seven　children　besides　Maria　Jane。　　But　how

do　I　know　that　she　might　not　have　brought　them　up　much　better？

Maria　Jane　herself　is　far　from　strong；　and　is　subject　to　headaches；

and　nervous　indigestion。　　Besides　which；　I　learn　from　the

statistical　tables　that　one　child　in　five　dies　within　the　first

year　of　its　life；　and　one　child　in　three；　within　the　fifth。　　That

don't　look　as　if　we　could　never　improve　in　these　particulars；　I

think！



P。P。S。　Augustus　George　is　in　convulsions。







LYING　AWAKE







'MY　uncle　lay　with　his　eyes　half　closed；　and　his　nightcap　drawn

almost　down　to　his　nose。　　His　fancy　was　already　wandering；　and

began　to　mingle　up　the　present　scene　with　the　crater　of　Vesuvius；

the　French　Opera；　the　Coliseum　at　Rome；　Dolly's　Chop…house　in

London；　and　all　the　farrago　of　noted　places　with　which　the　brain　of

a　traveller　is　crammed；　in　a　word；　he　was　just　falling　asleep。'



Thus；　that　delightful　writer；　WASHINGTON　IRVING；　in　his　Tales　of　a

Traveller。　　But；　it　happened　to　me　the　other　night　to　be　lying：　not

with　my　eyes　half　closed；　but　with　my　eyes　wide　open；　not　with　my

nightcap　drawn　almost　down　to　my　nose；　for　on　sanitary　principles　I

never　wear　a　nightcap：　but　with　my　hair　pitchforked　and　touzled　all

over　the　pillow；　not　just　falling　asleep　by　any　means；　but

glaringly；　persistently；　and　obstinately；　broad　awake。　　Perhaps；

with　no　scientific　intention　or　invention；　I　was　illustrating　the

theory　of　the　Duality　of　the　Brain；　perhaps　one　part　of　my　brain；

being　wakeful；　sat　up　to　watch　the　other　part　which　was　sleepy。　　Be

that　as　it　may；　something　in　me　was　as　desirous　to　go　to　sleep　as

it　possibly　could　be；　but　something　else　in　me　WOULD　NOT　go　to

sleep；　and　was　as　obstinate　as　George　the　Third。



Thinking　of　George　the　Third　…　for　I　devote　this　paper　to　my　train

of　thoughts　as　I　lay　awake：　most　people　lying　awake　sometimes；　and

having　some　interest　in　the　subject　…　put　me　in　mind　of　BENJAMIN

FRANKLIN；　and　so　Benjamin　Franklin's　paper　on　the　art　of　procuring

pleasant　dreams；　which　would　seem　necessarily　to　include　the　art　of

going　to　sleep；　came　into　my　head。　　Now；　as　I　often　used　to　read

that　paper　when　I　was　a　very　small　boy；　and　as　I　recollect

everything　I　read　then　as　perfectly　as　I　forget　everything　I　read

now；　I　quoted　'Get　out　of　bed；　beat　up　and　turn　your　pillow；　shake

the　bed…clothes　well　with　at　least　twenty　shakes；　then　throw　the

bed　open　and　leave　it　to　cool；　in　the　meanwhile；　continuing

undrest；　walk　about　your　chamber。　　When　you　begin　to　feel　the　cold

air　unpleasant；　then　return　to　your　bed；　and　you　will　soon　fall

asleep；　and　your　sleep　will　be　sweet　and　pleasant。'　　Not　a　bit　of

it！　　I　performed　the　whole　ceremony；　and　if　it　were　possible　for　me

to　be　more　saucer…eyed　than　I　was　before；　that　was　the　only　result

that　came　of　it。



Except　Niagara。　　The　two　quotations　from　Washington　Irving　and

Benjamin　Franklin　may　have　put　it　in　my　head　by　an　American

association　of　ideas；　but　there　I　was；　and　the　Horse…shoe　Fall　was

thundering　and　tumbling　in　my　eyes　and　ears；　and　the　very　rainbows

that　I　left　upon　the　spray　when　I　really　did　last　look　upon　it；

were　beautiful　to　see。　　The　night…light　being　quite　as　plain；

however；　and　sleep　seeming　to　be　many　thousand　miles　further　off

than　Niagara；　I　made　up　my　mind　to　think　a　little　about　Sleep；

which　I　no　sooner　did　than　I　whirled　off　in　spite　of　myself　to

Drury　Lane　Theatre；　and　there　saw　a　great　actor　and　dear　friend　of

mine　（whom　I　had　been　thinking　of　in　the　day）　playing　Macbeth；　and

heard　him　apostrophising　'the　death　of　each　day's　life；'　as　I　have

heard　him　many　a　time；　in　the　days　that　are　gone。



But；　Sleep。　　I　WILL　think　about　Sleep。　　I　am　determined　to　think

（this　is　the　way　I　went　on）　about　Sleep。　　I　must　hold　the　word

Sleep；　tight　and　fast；　or　I　shall　be　off　at　a　tangent　in　half　a

second。　　I　feel　myself　unaccountably　straying；　already；　into　Clare

Market。　　Sleep。　　It　would　be　curious；　as　illustrating　the　equality

of　sleep；　to　inquire　how　many　of　its　phenomena　are　common　to　all

classes；　to　all　degrees　of　wealth　and　poverty；　to　every　grade　of

education　and　ignorance。　　Here；　for　example；　is　her　Majesty　Queen

Victoria　in　her　palace；　this　present　blessed　night；　and　here　is

Winking　Charley；　a　sturdy　vagrant；　in　one　of　her　Majesty's　jails。

Her　Majesty　has　fallen；　many　thousands　of　times；　from　that　same

Tower；　which　I　claim　a　right　to　tumble　off　now　and　then。　　So　has

Winking　Charley。　　Her　Majesty　in　her　sleep　has　opened　or　prorogued

Parliament；　or　has　held　a　Drawing　Room；　attired　in　some　very　scanty

dress；　the　deficiencies　and　improprieties　of　which　have　caused　her

great　uneasiness。　　I；　in　my　degree；　have　suffered　unspeakable

agitation　of　mind　from　taking　the　chair　at　a　public　dinner　at　the

London　Tavern　in　my　night…clothes；　which　not　all　the　courtesy　of　my

kind　friend　and　host　MR。　BATHE　could　persuade　me　were　quite　adapted

to　the　occasion。　　Winking　Charley　has　been　repeatedly　tried　in　a

worse　condition。　　Her　Majesty　is　no　stranger　to　a　vault　or

firmament；　of　a　sort　of　floorcloth；　with　an　indistinct　pattern

distantly　resembling　eyes；　which　occasionally　obtrudes　itself　on

her　repose。　　Neither　am　I。　　Neither　is　Winking　Charley。　　It　is

quite　common　to　all　three　of　us　to　skim　along　with　airy　strides　a

little　above　the　ground；　also　to　hold；　with　the　deepest　interest；

dialogues　with　various　people；　all　represented　by　ourselves；　and　to

be　at　our　wit's　end　to　know　what　they　are　going　to　tell　us；　and　to

be　indescribably　astonished　by　the　secrets　they　disclose。　　It　is

probable　that　we　have　all　three　committed　murders　and　hidden

bodies。　　It　is　pretty　certain　that　we　have　all　desperately　wanted

to　cry　out；　and　have　had　no　voice；　that　we　have　all　gone　to　the

play　and　not　been　able　to　get　in；　that　we　have　all　dreamed　much

more　of　our　youth　than　of　our　later　lives；　that　…　I　have　lost　it！

The　thread's　broken。



And　up　I　go。　　I；　lying　here　with　the　night…light　before　me；　up　I

go；　for　no　reason　on　earth　that　I　can　find　out；　and　drawn　by　no

links　that　are　visible　to　me；　up　the　Great　Saint　Bernard！　　I　have

lived　in　Switzerland；　and　rambled　among　the　mountains；　but；　why　I

should　go　there　now；　and　why　up　the　Great　Saint　Bernard　in

preference　to　any　other　mountain；　I　have　no　idea。　　As　I　lie　here

broad　awake；　and　with　every　sense　so　sharpened　that　I　can

distinctly　hear　distant　noises　inaudible　to　me　at　another　time；　I

make　that　journey；　as　I　really　did；　on　the　same　summer　day；　with

the　same　happy　party　…　ah！　two　since　dead；　I　grieve　to　think　…　and

there　is　the　same　track；　with　the　same　black　wooden　arms　to　point

the　way；　and　there　are　the　same　storm…refuges　here　and　there；　and

there　is　the　same　snow　falling　at　the　top；　and　there　are　the　same

frosty　mists；　and　there　is　the　same　intensely　cold　convent　with　its

menagerie　smell；　and　the　same　breed　of　dogs　fast　dying　out；　and　the

same　breed　of　jolly　young　monks　whom　I　mourn　to　know　as　humbugs；

and　the　same　convent　parlour　with　its　piano　and　the　sitting　round

the　fire；　and　the　same　supper；　and　the　same　lone　night　in　a　cell；

and　the　same　bright　fresh　morning　when　going　out　into　the　highly

rarefied　air　was　like　a　plunge　into　an　icy　bath。　　Now；　see　here

what　comes　along；　and　why　does　this　thing　stalk　into　my　mind　on　the

top　of　a　Swiss　mountain！



It　is　a　figure　that　I　once　saw；　just　after　dark；　chalked　upon　a

door　in　a　little　back　lane　near　a　country　church　…　my　first　church。

How　young　a　child　I　may　have　been　at　the　time　I　don't　know；　but　it

horrified　me　so　intensely　…　in　connexion　with　the　churchyard；　I

suppose；　for　it　smokes　a　pipe；　and　has　a　big　hat　with　each　of　its

ears　sticking　out　in　a　horizontal　line　under　the　brim；　and　is　not

in　itself　more　oppressive　than　a　mouth　from　ear　to　ear；　a　pair　of

goggle　eyes；　and　hands　like　two　bunches　of　carrots；　five　in　each；

can　make　it　…　that　it　is　still　vaguely　alarming　to　me　to　recall　（as

I　have　often　done　before；　lying　awake）　the　running　home；　the

looking　behind；　the　horror；　of　its　following　me；　though　whether

disconnected　from　the　door；　or　door　and　all；　I　can't　say；　and

perhaps　never　could。　　It　lays　a　disagreeable　train。　　I　must　resolve

to　think　of　something　on　the　voluntary　principle。



The　balloon　ascents　of　this　last　season。　　They　will　do　to　think

about；　while　I　lie　awake；　as　well　as　anything　else。　　I　must　hold

them　tight　though；　for　I　feel　them　sliding　away；　and　in　their　stead

are　the　Mannings；　husband　and　wife；　hanging　on　the　top　of　Horse…

monger　Lane　Jail。　　In　connexion　with　which　dismal　spectacle；　I

recall　this　curious　fantasy　of　the　mind。　　That；　having　beheld　that

execution；　and　having　left　those　two　forms　danglin