Sleep, although a balmy re. strative is notoriously coy and has to be wooed like any: coquette. This is especially: true in summer. Who hag nob wooed, and! pleaded for the gift of grateful oblivion while tossing on a bed whose linen sheets seem as hot as St. Lawrence's gridiron. What tantalizing memories return to one of frosty nights and comforting hot-water bottles. And, oh, the thought of winter evenings wasted at theatres and dances when one might have slept instead, Why was it that sleep seemed the least of our necessities then? Never, never ib seems, shall we be able to make up the priceless boon we then despised. 1
But conversely an appetite for. sleep comes upon us at the most unseemly times and seasons. Tiffin is an irresistible invitation to a nap and serious work is often interfered with by: drowsy noddings. The torture of fighting off a disposition to slumber most inopportunely come upon one in the midst of what should be an engrossing conversation is known to all. Note the expressions of somnolence which {j11 the tiffin motors re; turning at 2 p.m. and answer whether the prevailing presentment bodes well for the volume of the afternoon's work.
Before experiencing a Shanghai summer the ease with which the Chinese went to sleep sitting up, standing up, walking about was a miracle to me. Now the only miracle is that I don't do likewise. In winter I go out ab night and jazz by bright electric light; in summer quite the other way, I. always fall asleep by day.: Ah, well, in these little dozes that one takes while waiting one's turn in the conversation, the cat naps snatched duri.g the pauses of deep reading, the satisfying siestas which follow tiffin, and the delights of sleeping through the concerts in the parks one manages to make up the white nights which afflict us occasionally. 7
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.