AMINADAB IVISON started up in his bed. The great clock at the head of the staircase, an old and respected heirloom of the family, struck one."Ah," said he, heaving up a great sigh from the depths of his inner man,"I've had a tried time of it.""And so have I," said the wife. "Thee's been kicking and threshing about all night. I do wonder what ails thee."And well she might; for her husband, a well-to-do, portly, middle-aged gentleman, being blessed with an easy conscience, a genial temper, and a comfortable digestion, was able to bear a great deal of sleep, and seldom varied a note in the gamut of his snore from one year's end to another."A very remarkable exercise," soliloquized Aminadab; "very.""Dear me! what was it?" inquired his wife."It must have been a dream," said Aminadab."Oh, is that all?" returned the good woman. "I'm glad it's nothing worse. But what has thee been dreaming about?"