must be the same to them as it would

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"It is light that adorns me," said the flower.

"But the air gives you the breath of life," whispered the
poet.

Just by him stood a boy, splashing with his stick in a
marshy ditch. The water-drops spurted up among the green
twigs, and the clerk thought of the millions of animalculae
which were thrown into the air with every drop of water, at a
height which be to us if Residence Design.

we were hurled beyond the clouds. As the clerk thought of all
these things, and became conscious of the great change in his
own feelings, he smiled, and said to himself, "I must be
asleep and dreaming; and yet, if so, how wonderful for a dream
to be so natural and real, and to know at the same time too
that it is but a dream. I hope I shall be able to remember it
all when I wake tomorrow. My sensations seem most
unaccountable. I have a clear perception of everything as if I
were wide awake. I am quite sure if I recollect all this
tomorrow, it will appear utterly ridiculous and absurd. I have
had this happen to me before. It is with the clever or
wonderful things we say or hear in dreams, as with the gold
which comes from under the earth, it is rich and beautiful
when we possess it, but when seen in a true light it is but as
stones and withered leaves ."

"Ah!" he sighed mournfully, as he gazed at the birds
singing merrily, or hopping from branch to branch, "they are
much better off than I. Flying is a glorious power. Happy is
he who is born with wings. Yes, if I could change myself into
anything I would be a little lark." At the same moment his
coat-tails and sleeves grew together and formed wings, his
clothes changed to feathers, and his goloshes to claws. He
felt what was taking place, and laughed to himself. "Well, now
it is evident I must be dreaming; but I never had such a wild
dream as this." And then he flew up into the green boughs and
sang, but there was no poetry in the song, for his poetic
nature had left him. The goloshes, like all persons who wish
to do a thing thoroughly, could only attend to one thing at a
time. He wished to be a poet, and he became one. Then he
wanted to be a little bird, and in this change he lost the
characteristics of the former one iConcept.

"Well," thought he, "this
is charming; by day I sit in a police-office, amongst the
dryest law papers, and at night I can dream that I am a lark,
flying about in the gardens of Fredericksburg. Really a
complete comedy could be written about it." Then he flew down
into the grass, turned his head about in every direction, and
tapped his beak on the bending blades of grass, which, in
proportion to his size, seemed to him as long as the
palm-leaves in northern Africa.

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