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“Set a beggar on horseback and he will ride a gallop.”—Shakespeare.

To the Editor of The Idler.

Dear Sir: I have had a curious dream and I am at a loss to account for it. I have consulted an old dream book, which I have in my possession, and which was formerly the property of my old nurse, Aunt Betty S., but for all my diligent searching therein, I have failed utterly to find anything which might serve as an interpretation of my vision. I called at the public library of our village and asked for the latest and most up-to-date work of this character, but the librarian only laughed at my request and assured me that she possessed no such work and that as far as she knew there had never been any such work upon her shelves. To my protest that no library could be complete without at least a few volumes of this character, she retorted that only fools and old fogies any longer had any faith in the meaning of dreams, and that if I was troubled with nightmare the best thing I could do would be to stop lying on my back or be more careful of what I ate before going to bed.

It would seem that I am a bit old-fashioned in my faith in the meaning of dreams, though I do not see how any one who pretends to a belief in the Christian faith can scoff at the interpretation and significance of them in the face of the many notable instances cited in the Bible, as, for example, the vision of Jacob and the dream which caused Joseph to flee into Egypt. I suppose, however, that I should not be surprised at the light and irreverent fashion in which the young people of to-day treat this subject, when I reflect that a Christian clergyman has recently suggested a revision of the Ten Commandments. Notwithstanding the apparently widespread heresy concerning the futility and emptiness of dreams, I trust that I am not the only Christian gentleman now living who clings to the faith of his fathers and who has sufficient faith in the inspiration of the Gospels to believe that a dream is something more than a result of injudicious eating. It is in the hope that some such person may be a reader of your journal and that the result may be a correct interpretation of my own dream, that I am writing this to you. I observe that your journal is somewhat behind the times in many respects and therefore I assume that some of your readers are likely to be as old-fashioned and as “superstitious” as myself.

The dream which I am about to relate came to me in the following circumstances. I had been out rather late the night before and had partaken of a number of fancy dishes such as I am not in the habit of eating at my own table, but which my daughter, who is just back from a young ladies’ finishing school, assures me are much more pleasing if not more nourishing than the ham and eggs which I was upon the point of ordering for our supper after the theater. It was in the morning of the next day and we were out in our new automobile which had only come from the factory the day before. The automobile, or “car” as my daughter calls it, is of rather expensive make and luxurious to a degree. Being somewhat fagged by my unaccustomed dissipation of the night before, I leaned back upon the cushions and presently I fell asleep.

It appeared to me that I was no longer in the automobile, but trudging along the road as I was in the habit of doing in my younger years. As I came to a turn in the road I was confronted with a troop of horsemen, who were by all odds the strangest company it has ever been my lot to behold. All of them were splendidly mounted on magnificent horses which were caparisoned like the mounts of the knights in some rich and gorgeous medieval tapestry. Their bridles were of chased leather with bits and buckles of solid gold; their stirrups were of platinum and silver, and their saddles were of silver and gold, upholstered in plush and velvet. Silk and satin ribbons floated from the bridles of the horses and flaunted in the wind in gay and beautiful streamers. But with the horses and their trappings the magnificence came to a sudden end. The riders themselves were the most incongruous riders for such noble animals that one could imagine. They were, without exception, tattered and bedraggled to the last degree of unkempt frowsiness. Their faces were gaunt and drawn as with hunger and their hair hung unbrushed and uncombed upon their frayed collars. In more than one instance a foot was thrust through a silver stirrup while the toes of the rider came peeping through the broken ends of his boot. A more wretched company mounted upon more beautiful chargers it would be difficult to imagine.

At sight of me the whole company came to a sudden halt, checking their mounts as at the command of a leader, though no word was spoken. The leader of the cavalcade, who bestrode a handsome gelding, rode out a little in advance of his fellows, and removing his crownless hat, swept me a bow, leaning low over the pommel of his saddle. And when I had returned his salutation, he addressed me in these words: “I give you good morrow, gentle sir, and I beg you in the name of Christ and this our company that you spare us a few coins of silver or of gold that we may partake of food and drink, for the way is long and weary and we can not travel without meat and wine to sustain us on our journey.”

Now this speech greatly astonished me, as I had never seen so large a company of beggars journeying together, and I was the more astounded that men mounted in such splendid fashion should be asking alms.

“What!” I cried in amazement, “are you begging then, while you ride upon such fine horses, and your bridles and saddles are worth a king’s ransom?”

“Even so,” replied the leader, “and much as I loathe discourtesy, I must remind you that our time is short, so pray give us what funds you can spare and let us be on our way, for we hope to reach our destination by nightfall.”

“And what is your destination?” I asked.

“The City of Vain Display,” he replied. “But we dally.”

“But if you need money,” I protested, “why do you not sell your horses and trappings?”

At this the whole company cried out in protest, and the leader answered: “Sell our mounts? Never! Look at them. Are they not beautiful?”

And truly they were. And as I looked at them I was seized with a great desire to feel a horse of like magnificence between my knees, and I cried, “I wish that I, too, had a horse like that!”

“Give me all the money that you have,” said the leader, “and you shall have one.”

So I gave him the money. Presently I found myself riding with them and my clothes were as tattered and torn as the clothes of the others. And we set off at a furious pace, faster and faster, until the horses panted with exertion, and after a time one stumbled and fell, sending his rider over his head to the hard road. But nobody stopped, and looking back, I saw the unfortunate fellow sprawling in the roadway with his neck broken. On, on we went, one horse after another giving a final gasp and falling down in the road, and as each one fell we who were left urged our mounts to greater exertions, plying whip and spur without ceasing, until finally only the leader and I were riding on. Then his horse stumbled to its knees and rolled over on its side, and I rode on alone. Lashing my horse I strained onward till the poor beast came crashing down with a jar that threw me headlong upon the highway, where I fell so heavily that I woke.

I have pondered over this dream ever since, but I confess I can make nothing of it. I must draw this letter to a close now, for my daughter informs me that the automobile is waiting, and I have not mortgaged my house to secure the thing for the purpose of letting it stand idle.

I hope, Sir, that if you or any of your readers can read me the riddle of this dream they will be good enough to forward the solution to

Your humble servant,

Timothy Tinseltop.

Blufftown, New York.