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Brutes and men have their sensoria, or little sensoriums, by which they apprehend the presence and perceive the actions of a few objects that lie contiguous to them. Their knowledge and apprehension turn within a very narrow circle.
I made the manual sign understood of all mankind that use the precious dust, and presently my brain, too, responded to the long unused stimulus O boys, that were, actual papas and possible grandpapas, some of you with crowns like billiard-balls, -some in locks of sable silvered, and some of silver sabled, do you remember, as you doze over this, those after-dinners at the Trois Freres when the Scotch-plaided snuff-box went round, and the dry Lundy-Foot tickled its way along into our happy sensoria?
I made the manual sign understood of all mankind that use the precious dust, and presently my brain, too, responded to the long unused stimulus O boys, that were, actual papas and possible grandpapas, some of you with crowns like billiard-balls, some in locks of sable silvered, and some of silver sabled, do you remember, as you doze over this, those after-dinners at the Trois Freres when the Scotch-plaided snuff-box went round, and the dry Lundy-Foot tickled its way along into our happy sensoria?
To be transmuted into the sensoria of forty different nasty carrion crows, besides two or three foxes, and a large black beetle! I'll run away, just like anybody else.... if anybody existed. Come, Bran! ............... 'Bran! where are you; unlucky inseparable sensation of mine? Picking up a dinner already off these dead soldiers?
But this I aver, whatever the cause, upon such nights of storm, the sensoria of some men are crossed by such wild variety and succession of images, as amounts very nearly to the Walpurgis of a fever. It is not the mere noise other noises won't do it. The air, to be sure, is thin, and blood-vessels expand, and perhaps the brain is pressed upon unduly. Well, I don't know.
During the hot night my ears, strained to every sound, had been almost painfully troubled; as though my brain or sensoria were in anxious touch with them. Every breath of the Nurse or the rustle of her dress; every soft pat of slippered feet, as the Policeman went his rounds; every moment of watching life, seemed to be a new impetus to guardianship.
O boys, that were, actual papas and possible grandpapas, some of you with crowns like billiard-balls, some in locks of sable silvered, and some of silver sabled, do you remember, as you doze over this, those after-dinners at the Trois Frères, when the Scotch-plaided snuff-box went round, and the dry Lundy-Foot tickled its way along into our happy sensoria?
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