all over by the melancholy rays of the rush-light, as they struggled
through the holes of the box) were of dark-brown wainscoat--but one
solitary wax taper. There lay coats, trousers, linen, books, papers,
dressing-materials, in dire confusion, about the room. In despair I set
me down at the foot of the bed, and contemplated the chaos around me.
My energies were paralyzed by the scene. Had it been to gain a kingdom,
I could not have thrown a glove into the portmanteau; so, resolving to
defer the packing till the morrow, I got into bed.

My slumbers were fitful--disturbed. Horrible dreams assailed me.
Series of watches, each pointing to the hour of FOUR, passed slowly
before me--then, time-pieces--dials, of a larger size--and at last,
enormous steeple-clocks, all pointing to FOUR, FOUR, FOUR. "A change
came o'er the spirit of my dream," and endless processions of watchmen
moved along, each mournfully dinning in my ears, "Past four o'clock."
At length I was attacked by night-mare. Methought I was an
hourglass--old Father Time bestrode me--he pressed upon me with
unendurable weight--fearfully and threateningly did wave his scythe
above my head--he grinned at me, struck three blows, audible blows,
with the handle of his scythe, on my breast, stooped his huge head,
and shrieked in my ear--

"Vore o'clock, zur; I zay it be vore o'clock."

"Well, I hear you."

"But I doan't hear you. Vore o'clock, zur."

"Very well, very well, that'll do."