he withdraws the pipe, reclines his head, and gives himself up to the first calming effect of the drug. His next attempt confirms the comfort, and now no longer does he complain of racking limbs or aching bones; no longer does the rheum run from his eyes, and relaxed is the tightness of the chest, as he dwells with fond affection on the inspiring pipe. His second pipe being finished, he can now look round, and has time to gaze on what is going on; but his soul is still wrapped in the bliss that is anticipated from what remains of his allowance, for not until a third or fourth whiff do the feelings of positive pleasure arise. Then is felt a lightness of the head, a tingling in every limb—the eyes seem to be enlarged, and the ears sharpened to hearing, an elasticity, an inclination to mount on high is experienced—all pains are gone, and pleasure now remains—all weariness has left, and freshness takes its place. The loathing of food that was lately experienced is changed to a relish for what is piquant, and a great desire is frequently felt for some particular food. The tongue is now loosened, and tells its tale. For whatever is secret becomes open, and what was intended for one becomes known to all. Still there is no excitement, but a calmness, soft, soothing, and sedative. He dreams no dreams, nor thinks of the morrow but with a smile in his eye; he fills his pipe with the last of his allowance; slowly inhaling it, he seems to brighten up. The smile that was sparkling in his eye, extends to other features, and his appearance is one of complete, yet placid enjoyment. Presently the pipe is slowly displaced, or drops by his side; his head, if raised, is now laid on the pillow—feature after feature gives up its smile—the eye becomes glazed—now droops the upper eyelid, and falls the chin with the lower lip, deeper and deeper inspirations follow—all perception is gone; objects may strike the eye, but no sights are seen; sounds may fall on the ear, but no sensations are excited. So he passes into sleep, disturbed and broken, from which the wretched being awakes to a full conception of his misery. ‘To sleep, perchance to dream!’—and what dreams!—what ecstatic delights!—what ravishments!—what illusions! “‘Things Seen for the first time, and things, long ago Seen, which he ne’er again shall see, do blend Strangely and brokenly with ghastly things Such as we hear in childhood, scorn in youth, And doubt in manhood, save when seen.’”