NOT many nights ago I had e home from seeing this extraordinary performer in Cockletop; and when I retired to my pillow, his whimsical image still stuck by me, in a manner as to threaten sleep. In vain I tried to divest myself of it, by juring up the most opposite associations. I resolved to be serious. I raised up the gravest topics of life; private misery, public calamity. All would not do.
--------There the antic sate
Mog our state -
his queer visnomy -- his bewildering e -- all the strahings which he had raked together -- his serpentine rod, swagging about in his pocket -- Cleopatras tear, and the rest of his relics -- OKeefes wild farce, and his wilder entary -- till the passion of laughter, like grief in excess, relieved itself by its ow, inviting the sleep whi the first insta had driven away.
But I was not to escape so easily. No sooner did I fall into slumbers, than the same image, only more perplexing, assailed me in the shape of dreams. Not on……（内容加载失败！）
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