“Dear me,” said I, “how very extraordinary!  Do you think that your going to sleep is caused by the meadow or the book?” “I suppose by both,” said my new acquaintance, “acting in co-operation.”  “It may be so,” said I; “the magic influence does certainly not proceed from the meadow alone; for since I have been here, I have not felt the slightest inclination to sleep.  Does the book consist of prose or poetry?” “It consists of poetry,” said the individual.  “Not Byron’s?” said I.  “Byron’s!” repeated the individual, with a smile of contempt; “no, no; there is nothing narcotic in Byron’s poetry.  I don’t like it.  I used to read it, but it thrilled, agitated, and kept me awake.  No; this is not Byron’s poetry, but the inimitable -’s”—­mentioning a name which I had never heard till then.  “Will you permit me to look at it?” said I.  “With pleasure,” he answered, politely handing me the book.  I took the volume, and glanced over the contents.  It was written in blank verse, and appeared to abound in descriptions of scenery; there was much mention of mountains, valleys, streams, and waterfalls, harebells and daffodils.  These descriptions were interspersed with dialogues, which, though they proceeded from the mouths of pedlars and rustics, were of the most edifying description; mostly on subjects moral or metaphysical, and couched in the most gentlemanly and unexceptionable language, without the slightest mixture of vulgarity, coarseness, or pie-bald grammar.  Such appeared to me to be the contents of the book; but before I could form a very clear idea of them, I found myself nodding, and a surprising desire to sleep coming over me.  Rousing myself, however, by a strong effort, I closed the book, and, returning it to the owner, inquired of him, “Whether he had any motive in coming and lying down in the meadow, besides the wish of enjoying sleep?” “None whatever,” he replied; “indeed, I should be very glad not to be compelled to do so, always provided I could enjoy the blessing of sleep; for by lying down under trees, I may possibly catch the rheumatism, or be stung by serpents; and, moreover, in the rainy season and winter the thing will be impossible, unless I erect a tent, which will possibly destroy the charm.”  “Well,” said I, “you need give yourself no further trouble about coming here, as I am fully convinced that with this book in your hand, you may go to sleep anywhere, as your friend was doubtless aware, though he wished to interest your imagination for a time by persuading you to lie abroad; therefore, in future, whenever you feel disposed to sleep, try to read the book, and you will be sound asleep in a minute; the narcotic influence lies in the book, and not in the field.”  “I will follow your advice,” said the individual; “and this very night take it with me to bed; though I hope in time to be able to sleep without it, my nerves being already much quieted from the slumbers I have enjoyed in this field.”  He then moved towards the gate, where we parted; he going one way, and I and my horse the other.