Rain in the Garret.
45
doze in his hammock, watching the play of the silvery moonbeams upon the orange leaves, and upon the waves, you can understand; and you fall to dreaming of that lovely Isle of France; and wondering if Virginia did not perhaps have some relations on the island, who raise pine-apples, and such sort of things, still?
And so, with your head upon your hand, in your quiet garret corner, over some such beguiling story, your thought leans away from the book, into your own dreamy cruise over the sea of life.
