ThemostextraordinarydreamIeverhadwasoneinwhichIfanciedthat，asIwasgoingintoatheater，thecloak—roomattendantstoppedmeinthelobbyandinsistedonmyleavingmylegsbehindme。
　　Iwasnotsurprised；indeed，myacquaintanceshipwiththeaterharpieswouldpreventmyfeelinganysurpriseatsuchademand，eveninmywakingmoments；butIwas，Imusthonestlyconfess，considerablyannoyed。Itwasnotthepaymentofthecloak—roomfeethatIsomuchminded——Iofferedtogivethattothemanthenandthere。ItwasthepartingwithmylegsthatIobjectedto。
　　IsaidIhadneverheardofsucharulebeingattemptedtobeputinforceatanyrespectabletheaterbefore，andthatIconsidereditamostabsurdandvexatiousregulation。IalsosaidIshouldwritetoTheTimesaboutit。
　　Themanrepliedthathewasverysorry，butthatthosewerehisinstructions。Peoplecomplainedthattheycouldnotgettoandfromtheirseatscomfortably，becauseotherpeople’slegswerealwaysintheway；andithad，therefore，beendecidedthat，infuture，everybodyshouldleavetheirlegsoutside。
　　Itseemedtomethatthemanagement，inmakingthisorder，hadclearlygonebeyondtheirlegalright；and，underordinarycircumstances，I
　　shouldhavedisputedit。Beingpresent，however，moreinthecharacterofaguestthaninthatofapatron，Ihardlyliketomakeadisturbance；andsoIsatdownandmeeklypreparedtocomplywiththedemand。
　　Ihadneverbeforeknownthatthehumanlegdidunscrew。Ihadalwaysthoughtitwasafixture。Butthemanshowedmehowtoundothem，andIfoundthattheycameoffquiteeasily。
　　ThediscoverydidnotsurprisemeanymorethantheoriginalrequestthatIshouldtakethemoffhaddone。Nothingdoessurpriseoneinadream。
　　IdreamedoncethatIwasgoingtobehanged；butIwasnotatallsurprisedaboutit。Nobodywas。Myrelationscametoseemeoff，I
　　thought，andtowishme"Good—by！"Theyallcame，andwereallverypleasant；buttheywerenotintheleastastonished——notoneofthem。
　　Everybodyappearedtoregardthecomingtragedyasoneofthemost—naturally—to—be—expectedthingsintheworld。
　　Theyborethecalamity，besides，withanamountofstoicismthatwouldhavedonecredittoaSpartanfather。Therewasnofuss，noscene。
　　Onthecontrary，anatmosphereofmildcheerfulnessprevailed。
　　Yettheywereverykind。Somebody——anuncle，Ithink——leftmeapacketofsandwichesandalittlesomethinginaflask，incase，ashesaid，Ishouldfeelpeckishonthescaffold。
　　Itis"thosetwin—jailersofthedaring"thought，KnowledgeandExperience，thatteachussurprise。Wearesurprisedandincredulouswhen，innovelsandplays，wecomeacrossgoodmenandwomen，becauseKnowledgeandExperiencehavetaughtushowrareandproblematicalistheexistenceofsuchpeople。Inwakinglife，myfriendsandrelationswould，ofcourse，havebeensurprisedathearingthatIhadcommittedamurder，andwas，inconsequence，abouttobehanged，becauseKnowledgeandExperiencewouldhavetaughtthemthat，inacountrywherethelawispowerfulandthepolicealert，theChristiancitizenisusuallyprettysuccessfulinwithstandingthevoiceoftemptation，promptinghimtocommitcrimeofanillegalcharacter。
　　ButintoDreamland，KnowledgeandExperiencedonotenter。Theystaywithout，togetherwiththedull，deadclayofwhichtheyformapart；
　　whilethefreedbrain，releasedfromtheirnarrowingtutelage，stealssoftlypasttheebongate，towantonatitsownsweetwillamongthemazypathsthatwindthroughthegardenofPersephone。
　　Nothingthatitmeetswithinthateternallandastonishesitbecause，unfetteredbythedenseconvictionofourwakingmind，thatnoughtoutsidethekenofourownvisioncaninthisuniversebe，allthingstoitarepossibleandevenprobable。Indreams，weflyandwondernot——exceptthatweneverflewbefore。Wegonaked，yetarenotashamed，thoughwemildlywonderwhatthepoliceareaboutthattheydonotstopus。Weconversewithourdead，andthinkitwasunkindthattheydidnotcomebacktousbefore。Indreams，therehappensthatwhichhumanlanguagecannottell。Indreams，wesee"thelightthatneverwasonseaorland，"wehearthesoundsthatneveryetwereheardbywakingears。
　　Itisonlyinsleepthattrueimaginationeverstirswithinus。
　　Awake，weneverimagineanything；wemerelyalter，vary，ortranspose。
　　Wegiveanothertwisttothekaleidoscopeofthethingsweseearoundus，andobtainanotherpattern；butnotoneofushaseveraddedonetiniestpieceofnewglasstothetoy。
　　ADeanSwiftseesoneraceofpeoplesmaller，andanotherraceofpeoplelargerthantheraceofpeoplethatlivedownhisownstreets。
　　Andhealsoseesalandwherethehorsestaketheplaceofmen。A
　　BulwerLyttonlaysthesceneofoneofhisnovelsinsidetheearthinsteadofoutside。ARiderHaggardintroducesustoaladywhoseageisafewyearsmorethantheaveragewomanwouldcaretoconfessto；
　　andpicturescrabslargerthantheusualshillingoreighteen—pennysize。Thenumberofsocalledimaginativewriterswhovisitthemoonislegion，andforallthenoveltythattheyfind，whentheygetthere，theymightjustaswellhavegonetoPutney。Othersarecontinuallydrawingforusvisionsoftheworldonehundredoronethousandyearshence。Thereisalwaysadepressingabsenceofhumannatureabouttheplace；somuchso，thatonefeelsgreatconsolationinthethought，whilereading，thatweourselvesshallbecomfortablydeadandburiedbeforethepicturecanberealized。IntheseprophesiedUtopiaseverybodyispainfullygoodandcleanandhappy，andalltheworkisdonebyelectricity。
　　Thereissomewhattoomuchelectricity，formytaste，intheseworldstocome。Oneisremindedofthosepictorialenamel—paintadvertisementsthatoneseesaboutsooftennow，inwhichallthemembersofanextensivehouseholdarerepresentedasgatheredtogetherinoneroom，spreadingenamel—paintovereverythingtheycanlaytheirhandsupon。Theoldmanisonastep—ladder，daubingthewallsandceilingwith"cuckoo’s—egggreen，"whiletheparlor—maidandthecookareontheirknees，paintingthefloorwith"sealing—waxred。"Theoldladyisdoingthepictureframesin"terracotta。"Theeldestdaughterandheryoungmanaremakingslyloveinacorneroverapotof"highartyellow，"withwhich，sosoonastheyhavefinishedwastingtheirtime，theywill，itismanifest，proceedtoelevatethepiano。Youngerbrothersandsistersarebusyfresheningupthechairsandtableswith"strawberry—jampink"and"jubileemagenta。"Everyblessedthinginthatroomisbeingcoatedwithenamelpaint，fromthesofatothefire—irons，fromthesideboardtotheeight—dayclock。Ifthereisanypaintleftover，itwillbeusedupforthefamilyBibleandthecanary。
　　Itisclaimedforthisinventionthatalittlechildcanmakeasmuchmesswithitascanagrown—upperson，andsoallthechildrenofthefamilyarerepresentedinthepictureashardatwork，enamelingwhateverfewarticlesoffurnitureandhouseholdusethegraspingselfishnessoftheireldershassparedtothem。Oneispaintingthetoastingforkina"skim—milkblue，"whileanotherisgivingaestheticalvaluetotheDutchovenbymeansofanewshadeofartgreen。Thebootjackisbeingrenovatedin"oldgold，"andthebabyissittingonthefloor，smotheringitsowncradlewith"flush—upon—a—maiden’scheekpeachcolor。"
　　Onefeelsthatthethingisbeingoverdone。Thatfamily，beforeanothermonthisgone，willbeamongthestrongestopponentsofenamelpaintthatthecenturyhasproduced。Enamelpaintwillbetheruinofthatoncehappyhome。Enamelpainthasacold，glassy，cynicalappearance。Itspresenceeverywhereabouttheplacewillbegintoirritatetheoldmaninthecourseofaweekorso。Hewillcallit，"Thisdamn’dstickystuff！"andwilltellthewifethathewondersshedidn’tpaintherselfandthechildrenwithitwhileshewasaboutit。
　　Shewillreply，inanexasperatinglyquiettoneofvoice，thatshedoeslikethat。Perhapshewillsaynext，thatshedidnotwarnhimagainstit，andtellhimwhatanidiothewasmakingofhimself，spoilingthewholehousewithhisfoolishfads。Eachonewillpersistthatitwastheotheronewhofirstsuggestedtheabsurdity，andtheywillsitupinbedandquarrelaboutiteverynightforamonth。
　　Thechildrenhavingacquiredatasteforsmudgingtheconcoctionabout，andtherebeingnothingelseleftuntouchedinthehouse，willtrytoenamelthecat；andthentherewillbebloodshed，andbrokenwindows，andspoiledinfants，andsorrowsandyells。Thesmellofthepaintwillmakeeverybodyill；andtheservantswillgivenotice。
　　Tradesmen’sboyswillleanupagainstplacesthatarenotdryandgettheirclothesenameledandclaimcompensation。Andthebabywillsuckthepaintoffitscradleandhavefits。
　　Butthepersonthatwillsuffermostwill，ofcourse，betheeldestdaughter’syoungman。Theeldestdaughter’syoungmanisalwaysunfortunate。Hemeanswell，andhetrieshard。Hisgreatambitionistomakethefamilylovehim。Butfateiseveragainsthim，andheonlysucceedsingainingtheirundisguisedcontempt。Thefactofhisbeing"gone"ontheirEmilyis，ofitself，naturallysufficienttostamphimasanimbecileintheeyesofEmily’sbrothersandsisters。
　　Thefatherfindshimslow，andthinksthegirlmighthavedonebetter；
　　whilethebestthathisfuturemother—in—law（hissolesupporter）cansayforhimis，thatheseemssteady。
　　Thereisonlyonethingthatpromptsthefamilytotoleratehim，andthatisthereflectionthatheisgoingtotakeEmilyawayfromthem。
　　Onthatunderstandingtheyputupwithhim。
　　Theeldestdaughter’syoungman，inthisparticularcase，will，youmaydependuponit，choosethatexactmomentwhenthebaby’slifeishoveringinthebalance，andthecookiswaitingforherwageswithherboxinthehall，andacoal—heaverisatthefrontdoorwithapoliceman，makingarowaboutthedamagetohistrousers，tocomein，smiling，withaspecimenpotofsomenewhighart，squashed—tomato—shadeenamelpaint，andsuggestthattheyshouldtryitontheoldman’spipe。
　　ThenEmilywillgooffintohysterics，andEmily’smaleprogenitorwillfirmlybutquietlyleadthatill—starredyettrue—heartedyoungmantothepublicsideofthegarden—gate；andtheengagementwillbe"off。"
　　Toomuchofanythingisamistake，asthemansaidwhenhiswifepresentedhimwithfournewhealthychildreninoneday。Weshouldpracticemoderationinallmatters。Alittleenamelpaintwouldhavebeengood。Theymighthaveenameledthehouseinsideandout，andhaveleftthefurniturealone。Ortheymighthavecoloredthefurniture，andletthehousebe。Butanentirelyandcompletelyenameledhome——ahome，suchasenamel—paintmanufacturerslovetopictureontheiradvertisements，overwhichtheyearningeyewandersinvain，seekingonesinglesquareinchofun—enameledmatter——is，I
　　amconvinced，amistake。Itmaybeahomethat，asthetestimonialsassureus，willeasilywash。Itmaybean"artistic"home；buttheaveragemanisnotyeteducateduptotheappreciationofit。Theaveragemandoesnotcareforhighart。Atacertainpoint，theaveragemangetssickofhighart。
　　So，inthesecomingUtopias，inwhichoutunhappygrandchildrenwillhavetodragouttheircolorlessexistence，therewillbetoomuchelectricity。Theywillgrowtoloatheelectricity。
　　Electricityisgoingtolightthem，warmthem，carrythem，doctorthem，cookforthem，executethem，ifnecessary。Theyaregoingtobeweanedonelectricity，rockedintheircradlesbyelectricity，slappedbyelectricity，ruledandregulatedandguidedbyelectricity，buriedbyelectricity。Imaybewrong，butIratherthinktheyaregoingtobehatchedbyelectricity。
　　Inthenewworldofourprogressionistteachers，itiselectricitythatistherealmotive—power。Themenandwomenareonlymarionettes——workedbyelectricity。
　　Butitwasnottospeakoftheelectricityinthem，butoftheoriginalityinthem，thatIreferredtotheseworksoffiction。Thereisnooriginalityinthemwhatever。Humanthoughtisincapableoforiginality。Nomaneveryetimaginedanewthing——onlysomevariationorextensionofanoldthing。
　　Thesailor，whenhewasaskedwhathewoulddowithafortune，promptlyreplied：
　　"Buyalltherumand’baccythereisintheworld。"
　　"Andwhatafterthat？"theyaskedhim。
　　"Eh？"
　　"Whatwouldyoubuyafterthat——afteryouhadboughtupalltherumandtobaccotherewasintheworld——whatwouldyoubuythen？"
　　"Afterthat？Oh！’um！"（alongpause）。"Oh！"（withinspiration）"why，more’baccy！"
　　Rumandtobaccoheknewsomethingof，andcouldthereforeimagineabout。Hedidnotknowanyotherluxuries，thereforehecouldnotconceiveofanyothers。
　　SoifyouaskoneoftheseUtopian—dreaminggentrywhat，aftertheyhadsecuredfortheirworldalltheelectricitytherewasintheUniverse，andaftereverymortalthingintheiridealParadise，wasdoneandsaidandthoughtbyelectricity，theycouldimagineasfurthernecessarytohumanhappiness，theywouldprobablymuseforawhile，andthenreply，"Moreelectricity。"
　　Theyknowelectricity。Theyhaveseentheelectriclight，andheardofelectricboatsandomnibuses。Theyhavepossiblyhadanelectricshockatarailwaystationforapenny。
　　Therefore，knowingthatelectricitydoesthreethings，theycangoonand"imagine"electricitydoingthreehundredthings，andtheverygreatonesamongthemcanimagineitdoingthreethousandthings；butforthem，oranybodyelse，toimagineanewforce，totallyunconnectedwithanddifferentfromanythingyetknowninnature，wouldbeutterlyimpossible。
　　Humanthoughtisnotafirework，evershootingofffreshformsandshapesasitburns；itisatree，growingveryslowly——youcanwatchitlongandseenomovement——verysilently，unnoticed。Itwasplantedintheworldmanythousandyearsago，atiny，sicklyplant。Andmenguardeditandtendedit，andgaveuplifeandfametoaiditsgrowth。
　　Inthehotdaysoftheiryouth，theycametothegateofthegardenandknocked，beggingtobeletin，andtobecountedamongthegardeners。Andtheiryoungcompanionswithoutcalledtothemtocomeback，andplaythemanwithbowandspear，andwinsweetsmilesfromrosylips，andtaketheirpartamidthefeast，anddance，notstoopwithwrinkledbrows，atweaklings’work。Andthepassersbymockedthemandcalledshame，andotherscriedouttostonethem。Andstilltheystayedtherelaboring，thatthetreemightgrowalittle，andtheydiedandwereforgotten。
　　Andthetreegrewfairandstrong。Thestormsofignorancepassedoverit，andharmeditnot。Thefiercefiresofsuperstitionsoaredaroundit；butmenleapedintotheflamesandbeatthemback，perishing，andthetreegrew。Withthesweatoftheirbrowhavemennourisheditsgreenleaves。Theirtearshavemoistenedtheearthaboutit。Withtheirbloodtheyhavewatereditsroots。
　　Theseasonshavecomeandpassed，andthetreehasgrownandflourished。Anditsbrancheshavespreadfarandhigh，andeverfreshshootsareburstingforth，andevernewleavesunfoldingtothelight。
　　Buttheyareallpartoftheonetree——thetreethatwasplantedonthefirstbirthdayofthehumanrace。Thestemthatbearsthemspringsfromthegnarledoldtrunkthatwasgreenandsoftwhenwhite—hairedTimewasalittlechild；thesapthatfeedsthemisdrawnupthroughtherootsthattwineandtwistaboutthebonesoftheagesthataredead。
　　Thehumanmindcannomoreproduceanoriginalthoughtthanatreecanbearanoriginalfruit。Aswellmightonecryforanoriginalnoteinmusicasexpectanoriginalideafromahumanbrain。
　　Onewishesourfriends，thecritics，wouldgraspthissimpletruth，andleaveoffclamoringfortheimpossible，andbeingshockedbecausetheydonotgetit。Whenanewbookiswritten，thehigh—classcriticopensitwithfeelingsoffainthope，temperedbystrongconvictionofcomingdisappointment。Asheporesoverthepages，hisbrowdarkenswithvirtuousindignation，andhislipcurlswiththeGodlikecontemptthattheexceptionallygreatcriticeverfeelsforeverybodyinthisworld，whoisnotyetdead。Buoyedupbyatouching，buttotallyfallacious，beliefthatheisperformingapublicduty，andthattherestofthecommunityiswaitinginbreathlesssuspensetolearnhisopinionoftheworkinquestion，beforeforminganyjudgmentconcerningitthemselves，he，nevertheless，wearilystrugglesthroughaboutathirdofit。Thenhislong—sufferingsoulrevolts，andheflingsitasidewithacryofdespair。
　　"Why，thereisnooriginalitywhateverinthis，"hesays。"ThisbookistakenbodilyfromtheOldTestament。ItisthestoryofAdamandEvealloveragain。Theheroisamereman！withtwoarms，twolegs，andahead（socalled）。Why，itisonlyMoses’sAdamunderanothername！Andtheheroineisnothingbutawoman！andsheisdescribedasbeautiful，andashavinglonghair。Theauthormaycallher’Angelina，’oranyothernamehechooses；buthehasevidently，whetherheacknowledgesitornot，copiedherdirectfromEve。ThecharactersarebarefacedplagiarismsfromthebookofGenesis！Oh！tofindanauthorwithoriginality！"
　　OnespringIwentawalkingtourinthecountry。Itwasagloriousspring。Notthesortofspringtheygiveusinthesemiserabletimes，underthisshamelessgovernment——amixtureofeastwind，blizzard，snow，rain，slush，fog，frost，hail，sleetandthunder—storms——butasunny，blue—sky’d，joyousspring，suchasweusedtohaveregularlyeveryyearwhenIwasayoungman，andthingsweredifferent。
　　Itwasanexceptionallybeautifulspring，evenforthosegoldendays；
　　andasIwanderedthroughthewakingland，andsawthedawningofthecominggreen，andwatchedtheblushuponthehawthornhedge，deepeningeachdaybeneaththekissesofthesun，andlookedupattheproudoldmothertrees，dandlingtheirmyriadbabybudsupontheirstrongfondarms，holdingthemhighforthesoftwestwindtocaressashepassedlaughingby，andmarkedtheprimroseyellowcreepacrossthecarpetofthewoods，andsawthenewflushofthefieldandsawthenewlightonthehills，andheardthenew—foundgladnessofthebirds，andheardfromcopseandfarmandmeadowthetimidcallingsofthelittlenew—bornthings，wonderingtofindthemselvesalive，andsmeltthefreshnessoftheearth，andfeltthepromiseintheair，andfeltastronghandinthewind，myspiritrosewithinme。Springhadcometomealso，andstirredmewithastrangenewlife，withastrangenewhopeI，too，waspartofnature，anditwasspring！Tenderleavesandblossomswereunfoldingfrommyheart。Brightflowersofloveandgratitudewereopeningrounditsroots。Ifeltnewstrengthinallmylimbs。Newbloodwaspulsingthroughmyveins。Noblerthoughtsandnoblerlongingswerethrobbingthroughmybrain。
　　AsIwalked，Naturecameandtalkedbesideme，andshowedmetheworldandmyself，andthewaysofGodseemedclearer。
　　Itseemedtomeapitythatallthebeautifulandpreciousthoughtsandideasthatwerecrowdinginuponmeshouldbelosttomyfellow—men，andsoIpitchedmytentatalittlecottage，andsettoworktowritethemdownthenandthereastheycametome。
　　"Ithasbeencomplainedofme，"Isaidtomyself，"thatIdonotwriteliteraryandhighclasswork——atleast，notworkthatisexceptionallyliteraryandhigh—class。Thisreproachshallberemoved。Iwillwriteanarticlethatshallbeaclassic。Ihaveworkedfortheordinary，every—dayreader。ItisrightthatIshoulddosomethingnowtoimprovetheliteratureofmybelovedcountry。"
　　AndIwroteagrandessay——thoughIsayitwhoshouldnot，thoughI
　　don’tseewhyIshouldn’t——allaboutspring，andthewayitmadeyoufeel，andwhatitmadeyouthink。Itwassimplycrowdedwithelevatedthoughtsandhigh—classideasandculturedwit，wasthatessay。Therewasonlyonefaultaboutthatessay：itwastoobrilliant。Iwantedcommonplacerelief。Itwouldhaveexhaustedtheaveragereader；somuchclevernesswouldhaveweariedhim。
　　IwishIcouldremembersomeofthebeautifulthingsinthatessay，andheresetthemdown；becausethenyouwouldbeabletoseewhattheywerelikeforyourselves，andthatwouldbesomuchmoresimplerthanmyexplainingtoyouhowbeautifultheywere。Unfortunately，however，Icannotnowcalltomindanyofthem。
　　Iwasveryproudofthisessay，andwhenIgotbacktotownIcalledonaverysuperiorfriendofmine，acritic，andreadittohim。Idonotcareforhimtoseeanyofmyusualwork，becausehereallyisaverysuperiorpersonindeed，andtheperusalofitappearstogivehimpainsinside。Butthisarticle，Ithought，woulddohimgood。
　　"Whatdoyouthinkofit？"Iasked，whenIhadfinished。
　　"Splendid，"hereplied，"excellentlyarranged。Ineverknewyouweresowellacquaintedwiththeworksoftheoldwriters。Why，thereisscarcelyaclassicofanynotethatyouhavenotquotedfrom。Butwhere——where，"headded，musing，"didyougetthatlastideabuttwofrom？It’stheonlyoneIdon’tseemtoremember。Itisn’tabitofyourown，isit？"
　　Hesaidthat，ifso，heshouldadvisemetoleaveitout。Notthatitwasaltogetherbad，butthattheinterpolationofamodernthoughtamongsouniqueacollectionofpassagesfromtheancientsseemedtospoilthescheme。
　　Andheenumeratedthevariousdead—and—buriedgentlemenfromwhomheappearedtothinkIhadcollatedmyarticle。
　　"But，"Ireplied，whenIhadrecoveredmyastonishmentsufficientlytospeak，"itisn’tacollectionatall。Itisalloriginal。Iwrotethethoughtsdownastheycametome。Ihaveneverreadanyofthesepeopleyoumention，exceptShakespeare。"
　　OfcourseShakespearewasboundtobeamongthem。Iamgettingtodislikethatmanso。Heisalwaysbeingheldupbeforeusyoungauthorsasamodel，andIdohatemodels。Therewasamodelboyatourschool，Iremember，HenrySummers；anditwasjustthesamethere。
　　Itwascontinually，"LookatHenrySummers！hedoesn’tputtheprepositionbeforetheverb，andspellbusinessb—i—z！"or，"Whycan’tyouwritelikeHenrySummers？Hedoesn’tgettheinkalloverthecopy—bookandhalf—wayuphisback！"Wegottiredofthiseverlasting"LookatHenrySummers！"afterawhile，andso，oneafternoon，onthewayhome，afewofusluredHenrySummersupadarkcourt；andwhenhecameoutagainhewasnotworthlookingat。
　　Nowitisperpetually，"LookatShakespeare！""Whydon’tyouwritelikeShakespeare？""Shakespearenevermadethatjoke。Whydon’tyoujokelikeShakespeare？"
　　Ifyouareintheplay—writinglineitisstillworseforyou。"Whydon’tyouwriteplayslikeShakespeare’s？"theyindignantlysay。
　　"Shakespearenevermadehiscomicmanapennysteamboatcaptain。"
　　"Shakespearenevermadehisheroaddressthegirlas’ducky。’Whydon’tyoucopyShakespeare？"IfyoudotrytocopyShakespeare，theytellyouthatyoumustbeafooltoattempttoimitateShakespeare。
　　Oh，shouldn’tIliketogetShakespeareupourstreet，andpunchhim！
　　"Icannothelpthat，"repliedmycriticalfriend——toreturntoourpreviousquestion——"thegermofeverythoughtandideayouhavegotinthatarticlecanbetracedbacktothewritersIhavenamed。Ifyoudoubtit，Iwillgetdownthebooks，andshowyouthepassagesforyourself。"
　　ButIdeclinedtheoffer。IsaidIwouldtakehiswordforit，andwouldrathernotseethepassagesreferredto。Ifeltindignant。
　　"If，"asIsaid，"thesemen——thesePlatosandSocratesesandCicerosandSophoclesesandAristophanesesandAristotlesandtherestofthemhadbeentakingadvantageofmyabsencetogoabouttheworldspoilingmybusinessforme，Iwouldrathernothearanymoreaboutthem。"
　　AndIputonmyhatandcameout，andIhavenevertriedtowriteanythingoriginalsince。
　　Idreamedadreamonce。（Itisthesortofthingamanwoulddream。
　　Youcannotverywelldreamanythingelse，Iknow。Butthephrasesoundspoeticalandbiblical，andsoIuseit。）IdreamedthatIwasinastrangecountry——indeed，onemightsayanextraordinarycountry。
　　Itwasruledentirelybycritics。
　　Thepeopleinthisstrangelandhadaveryhighopinionofcritics——nearlyashighanopinionofcriticsasthecriticsthemselveshad，butnot，ofcourse，quite——thatnotbeingpracticable——andtheyhadagreedtobeguidedinallthingsbythecritics。Istayedsomeyearsinthatland。Butitwasnotacheerfulplacetolivein，soIdreamed。
　　Therewereauthorsinthiscountry，atfirst，andtheywrotebooks。
　　Butthecriticscouldfindnothingoriginalinthebookswhatever，andsaiditwasapitythatmen，whomightbeusefullyemployedhoeingpotatoes，shouldwastetheirtimeandthetimeofthecritics，whichwasofstillmoreimportance，instringingtogetheracollectionofplatitudes，familiartoeveryschool—boy，anddishingupoldplotsandstoriesthathadalreadybeencookedandrecookedforthepublicuntileverybodyhadbeensurfeitedwiththem。
　　Andthewritersreadwhatthecriticssaidandsighed，andgaveupwritingbooks，andwentoffandhoedpotatoes；asadvised。Theyhadhadnoexperienceinhoeingpotatoes，andtheyhoedverybadly；andthepeoplewhosepotatoestheyhoedstronglyrecommendedthemtoleavehoeingpotatoes，andtogobackandwritebooks。Butyoucan’tdowhateverybodyadvises。
　　Therewereartistsalsointhisstrangeworld，atfirst，andtheypaintedpictures，whichthecriticscameandlookedatthrougheyeglasses。
　　"Nothingwhateveroriginalinthem，"saidthecritics；"sameoldcolors，sameoldperspectiveandform，sameoldsunset，sameoldseaandland，andskyandfigures。Whydothesepoormenwastetheirtime，paintingpictures，whentheymightbesomuchmoresatisfactorilyemployedonladderspaintinghouses？"
　　Nothing，bytheby，youmayhavenoticed，troublesyourcriticmorethantheideathattheartistiswastinghistime。Itisthewasteoftimethatvexesthecritic；hehassuchanexaltedideaofthevalueofotherpeople’stime。"Dear，dearme！"hesaystohimself，"why，inthetimethemanmusthavetakentopaintthispictureortowritethisbook，hemighthaveblackedfifteenthousandpairsofboots，orhavecarriedfifteenthousandhodsofmortarupaladder。Thisishowthetimeoftheworldislost！"
　　Itneveroccurstohimthat，butforthatpictureorbook，theartistwould，inallprobability，havebeenmouchingaboutwithapipeinhismouth，gettingintotrouble。
　　ItremindsmeofthewaypeopleusedtotalktomewhenIwasaboy。
　　Iwouldbesitting，asgoodasgold，reading"ThePirate’sLair，"whensomeculturedrelativewouldlookovermyshoulderandsay："Bah！
　　whatareyouwastingyourtimewithrubbishfor？Whydon’tyougoanddosomethinguseful？"andwouldtakethebookawayfromme。UponwhichIwouldgetup，andgooutto"dosomethinguseful；"andwouldcomehomeanhourafterward，lookinglikeabitoutofabattlepicture，havingtumbledthroughtheroofofFarmerBate’sgreenhouseandkilledacactus，thoughtotallyunabletoexplainhowIcametobeontheroofofFarmerBate’sgreenhouse。Theyhadmuchbetterhaveleftmealone，lostin"ThePirate’sLair！"
　　TheartistsinthislandofwhichIdreamedleftoffpaintingpictures，afterhearingwhatthecriticssaid，andpurchasedladders，andwentoffandpaintedhouses。
　　Because，yousee，thiscountryofwhichIdreamedwasnotoneofthosevulgar，ordinarycountries，suchasexistinthewakingworld，wherepeopleletthecriticstalkasmuchasevertheylike，andnobodypaystheslightestattentiontowhattheysay。Here，inthisstrangeland，thecriticsweretakenseriously，andtheiradvicefollowed。
　　Asforthepoetsandsculptors，theywereverysoonshutup。TheideaofanyeducatedpersonwantingtoreadmodernpoetrywhenhecouldobtainHomer，orcaringtolookatanyotherstatuewhiletherewasstillsomeoftheVenusdeMedicisleft，wastooabsurd。PoetsandsculptorswereonlywastingtheirtimeWhatnewoccupationtheywererecommendedtoadopt，Iforget。Somecallingtheyknewnothingwhateverabout，andthattheyweretotallyunfittedfor，ofcourse。
　　Themusicianstriedtheirartforalittlewhile，butthey，too，wereofnouse。"Merelyarepetitionofthesamenotesindifferentcombinations，"saidthecritics。"Whywillpeoplewastetheirtimewritingunoriginalmusic，whentheymightbesweepingcrossings？"
　　Onemanhadwrittenaplay。Iaskedwhatthecriticshadsaidabouthim。Theyshowedmehistomb。
　　Then，therebeingnomoreartistsor_litterateurs_ordramatistsormusiciansleftfortheirbelovedcriticstocriticise，thegeneralpublicofthisenlightenedlandsaidtothemselves，"Whyshouldnotourcriticscomeandcriticiseus？Criticismisusefultoaman。
　　Havewenotoftenbeentoldso？Lookhowusefulithasbeentotheartistsandwriters——savedthepoorfellowsfromwastingtheirtime？
　　Whyshouldn’twehavesomeofitsbenefits？"
　　Theysuggestedtheideatothecritics，andthecriticsthoughtitanexcellentone，andsaidtheywouldundertakethejobwithpleasure。
　　Onemustsayforthecriticsthattheynevershirkwork。Theywillsitandcriticiseforeighteenhoursaday，ifnecessary，oreven，ifquiteunnecessary，forthematterofthat。Youcan’tgivethemtoomuchtocriticise。Theywillcriticiseeverythingandeverybodyinthisworld。Theywillcriticiseeverythinginthenextworld，too，whentheygetthere。IexpectpooroldPlutohasalivelytimewiththemall，asitis。
　　So，whenamanbuiltahouse，orafarm—yardhenlaidanegg，thecriticswereaskedintocommentonit。Theyfoundthatnoneofthehouseswereoriginal。Oneveryfloorwerepassagesthatseemedmerecopiesfrompassagesinotherhouses。Theywereallbuiltonthesamehackneyedplan；cellarsunderneath，groundfloorlevelwiththestreet，atticatthetop。Nooriginalityanywhere！
　　So，likewisewiththeeggs。Everyeggsuggestedreminiscencesofothereggs。
　　Itwasheartrendingwork。
　　Thecriticscriticisedallthings。Whenayoungcouplefellinlove，theyeach，beforethinkingofmarriage，calleduponthecriticsforacriticismoftheotherone。
　　Needlesstosaythat，intheresult，nomarriageevercameofit。
　　"Mydearyounglady，"thecriticswouldsay，aftertheinspectionhadtakenplace，"Icandiscovernothingnewwhateverabouttheyoungman。
　　Youwouldsimplybewastingyourtimeinmarryinghim。"
　　Or，totheyoungman，itwouldbe：
　　"Oh，dear，no！Nothingattractiveaboutthegirlatall。Whoonearthgaveyouthatnotion？Simplyalovelyfaceandfigure，angelicdisposition，beautifulmind，stanchheart，noblecharacter。Why，theremusthavebeennearlyadozensuchgirlsbornintotheworldsinceitscreation。Youwouldbeonlywastingyourtimelovingher。"
　　Theycriticisedthebirdsfortheirhackneyedstyleofsinging，andtheflowersfortheirhackneyedscentsandcolors。Theycomplainedoftheweatherthatitlackedoriginality——（true，theyhadnotlivedoutanEnglishspring）——andfoundfaultwiththeSunbecauseofthesamenessofhismethods。
　　Theycriticisedthebabies。Whenafreshinfantwaspublishedinahouse，thecriticswouldcallinabodytopasstheirjudgmentuponit，andtheyoungmotherwouldbringitdownforthemtosample。
　　"Didyoueverseeachildanythinglikethatinthisworldbefore？"
　　shewouldsay，holdingitouttothem。"Isn’titawonderfulbaby？
　　_You_neversawachildwithlegslikethat，Iknow。Nursesayshe’sthemostextraordinarybabysheeverattended。Blesshim！"
　　Butthecriticsdidnotthinkanythingofit。
　　"Tut，tut，"theywouldreply，"thereisnothingextraordinaryaboutthatchild——nooriginalitywhatever。Why，it’sexactlylikeeveryotherbaby——baldhead，redface，bigmouth，andstumpynose。Why，that’sonlyaweakimitationofthebabynextdoor。It’saplagiarism，that’swhatthatchildis。You’vebeenwastingyourtime，madam。Ifyoucan’tdoanythingmoreoriginalthanthat，weshouldadviseyoutogiveupthebusinessaltogether。"
　　Thatwastheendofcriticisminthatstrangeland。
　　"Oh！lookhere，we’vehadenoughofyouandyouroriginality，"saidthepeopletothecritics，afterthat。"Why，_you_arenotoriginal，whenonecomestothinkofit，andyourcriticismsarenotoriginal。
　　You’veallofyoubeensayingexactlythesamethingeversincethetimeofSolomon。Wearegoingtodrownyouandhavealittlepeace。"
　　"What，drownacritic！"criedthecritics，"neverheardofsuchamonstrousproceedinginourlives！"
　　"No，weflatterourselvesitisanoriginalidea，"repliedthepublic，brutally。"Yououghttobecharmedwithit。Outyoucome！"
　　Sotheytookthecriticsoutanddrownedthem，andthenpassedashortact，makingcriticismacapitaloffense。
　　Afterthat，theartandliteratureofthecountryfollowed，somewhat，themethodsofthequaintandcuriousschool，buttheland，notwithstanding，wasamuchmorecheerfulplacetolivein，Idreamed。
　　ButIneverfinishedtellingyouaboutthedreaminwhichIthoughtI
　　leftmylegsbehindmewhenIwentintoacertaintheater。
　　IdreamedthattheticketthemangavemeformylegswasNo。19，andIwasworriedallthroughtheperformanceforfearNo。61shouldgetholdofthem，andleavemehisinstead。Mineareratherafinepairoflegs，andIam，Iconfess，alittleproudofthem——atallevents，I
　　preferthemtoanybodyelse’s。Besides，numbersixty—one’smightbeaskinnypair，andnotfitme。
　　Itquitespoiledmyevening，frettingaboutthis。
　　AnotherextraordinarydreamIhadwasoneinwhichIdreamedthatI
　　wasengagedtobemarriedtomyAuntJane。Thatwasnot，however，theextraordinarypartofit；Ihaveoftenknownpeopletodreamthingslikethat。Iknewamanwhooncedreamedthathewasactuallymarriedtohisownmother—in—law！Hetoldmethatneverinhislifehadhelovedthealarmclockwithmoredeepandgratefultendernessthanhedidthatmorning。Thedreamalmostreconciledhimtobeingmarriedtohisrealwife。Theylivedquitehappilytogetherforafewdays，afterthatdream。
　　No；theextraordinarypartofmydreamwas，thatIknewitwasadream。"Whatonearthwillunclesaytothisengagement？"Ithoughttomyself，inmydream。"There’sboundtobearowaboutit。Weshallhaveadealoftroublewithuncle，Ifeelsure。"Andthisthoughtquitetroubledmeuntilthesweetreflectioncame："Ah！well，it’sonlyadream。"
　　AndImadeupmymindthatIwouldwakeupassoonasunclefoundoutabouttheengagement，andleavehimandAuntJanetofightthematteroutbetweenthemselves。
　　Itisaverygreatcomfort，whenthedreamgrowstroubledandalarming，tofeelthatitisonlyadream，andtoknowthatweshallawakesoonandbenonetheworseforit。Wecandreamoutthefoolishperplexitywithasmilethen。
　　Sometimesthedreamoflifegrowsstrangelytroubledandperplexing，andthenhewhomeetsdismaythebravestishewhofeelsthatthefretfulplayisbutadream——abrief，uneasydreamofthreescoreyearsandten，orthereabouts，fromwhich，inalittlewhile，hewillawake——atleast，hedreamsso。
　　Howdull，howimpossiblelifewouldbewithoutdreams——wakingdreams，Imean——thedreamsthatwecall"castlesintheair，"builtbythekindlyhandsofHope！Wereitnotforthemirageoftheoasis，drawinghisfootstepseveronward，thewearytravelerwouldliedowninthedesertsandanddie。Itisthemirageofdistantsuccess，ofhappinessthat，likethebunchofcarrotsfastenedaninchbeyondthedonkey’snose，seemsalwaysjustwithinourreach，ifonlywewillgallopfastenough，thatmakesusrunsoeagerlyalongtheroadofLife。
　　Providence，likeafatherwithatiredchild，luresuseveralongthewaywithtalesandpromises，until，atthefrowninggatethatendstheroad，weshrinkback，frightened。Then，promisesstillmoresweethestoopsandwhispersinourear，andtimidyetpartlyreassured，andtryingtohideourfears，wegatherupallthatisleftofourlittlestockofhopeand，trustingyethalfafraid，pushoutourgropingfeetintothedarkness。