As Peter was indulging in these and like reflections, the vision upon which he gazed, and which had occasioned them, suddenly vanished. The rustling of the leaves had aroused him from his slumber, and behold! all had been but a dream. Rubbing his eyes and collecting his wandering thoughts, the only realities that greeted his returning senses were the hot sun above him, whose burning rays, no longer arrested by the shadow, which had gradually moved in another direction, had for some time been illuminating his countenance, and the unpleasant recollection that the village and his home were still several miles distant. To have his dreamy fancies thus dispelled by such a disagreeable transition, at some other time, might have urged him to the exhibition of no little ill-temper; but now he had enough to occupy his mind in reflecting upon the diversified visions of his dream. These he reviewed again and again, until unable to submit any longer to that itching desire which so often disturbs the ease of poor mortals when they imagine they have something interesting to communicate, he arose and slowly commenced the exceeding great labor of walking to the village. He reached it at last, just as the sun was sinking into the far west, and panting from the heat, more than from the exertion, he again seated himself in front of the tavern. He had added greatly to his store, and at once commenced to detail the events of his dream, and from that day to this he has faithfully continued to narrate them to every willing or unwilling listener. M. H. CONCLUSION.