"Well, my dreams were nothing but the continuation of my thoughts during
the day. I fancied I was married, and the owner of a large sugar
plantation. I had a good soft bed, and my pious wife was feeling about
me with her soft hands, probably to see if my heart beat quick, and if I
had good dreams;--a pity I did not awake then, for I should have saved
my dollars, as the hand which I was dreaming of was that of the
hospitable general searching for my pocket-book. It was late when I
opened my eyes--and, lo! the sleepers were gone, with the boat, my
boots, my coat, my hat, and, I soon found, with my money. I had been
left alone, with a greasy Mackinaw blanket, and as in my stupefaction I
gazed all round, and up and down, I saw my pocket-book empty, which the
generous general had humanely left to me to put other notes in, 'when I
could get any.' I kicked it with my foot, and should indubitably have
been food for cat-fish, had I not heard most _a propos_ the puffing of a
steam-boat coming down the river."
At that moment the parson interrupted his narrative, by observing:
"Well, I'd no idea that I had talked so long; why, man, look to the
east, 'tis almost daylight."
And sure enough the horizon of the prairie was skirted with that red
tinge which always announces the break of day in these immense level
solitudes.
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