any one would be awake at this late hour,--for it now drew near
twelve--and, besides, as I lived on the fourth story, I had humanity
enough not to alarm the whole street, by ringing and shouting, for
admittance. As this was a circumstance of no very infrequent occurrence,
I was not long perplexed for a shelter; but directed my steps, as usual,
towards the sedan stand, at the market place, where of course I still
met with society, though fast locked in the fetters of sleep. In the
hall, lay stretched and snoring, the whole corps of the honourable
company of sedan chairmen; and on a bench near the wall, lay, as usual,
the sleeping guardian of the night. Without troubling myself much about
my companions, I gently opened a sedan--crept into the corner--and slept
much the sooner for "the good wine having done its good office" on me.

I had slept but a very short time when I heard it strike twelve; the
watchman now arose, and blew a blast upon his horn that thrilled through
my every nerve, and sang:--

List--Christians list!--the passing bell
Of twelve, has just now told its knell,
And midnight is, when evil sprites,
Scare the tired sense, with wild affrights.
Now close your eyes in peace, and rest
Till morning rays illume the west:
Praise God the Lord!

A second time he blew his horn, and the sound re-echoed fearfully
through the old Town House; the storm howled terrifically, and the rain
pattered against the panes of my dwelling. In spite of the injunction of
the watchman, I opened my eyes, and beheld him advancing towards the
other end of the market-place, where he stopped to repeat his song; and