pattering of the descending rain, and the fitful gusts of the blast, as
they rushed against the house, and sung wildly among the few trees by
which it and the garden were enclosed.

Every one knows that a night of wind and storm, if not rising actually
to a tempest or hurricane, is precisely that on which sleep is with
its deepest influence upon men. Sullivan's family, on that which we are
describing, were a proof of this; at least until about the hour of
three o'clock, when they were startled by a cry for help, so loud and
frightful, that in a moment he and the boys huddled on their dress, and
hurried to the bed in which the prophet lay. In a minute or two they
got a candle lit; and truly the appearance of the man was calculated to
drive fear and alarm into their hearts. They found him sitting in the
bed, with his eyes so wild and staring that they seemed straining out
of their sockets. His hair was erect, and his mouth half open, and drawn
back; while the perspiration poured from him in torrents. His hands
were spread, and held up, with their palms outwards, as if in the act of
pushing something back that seemed to approach him. "Help," he shouted,
"he is comin' on me--he will have me powerless in a minute. He is
gaspin' now, as he--Stay back, stay back--here--here, help; it's the
murdhered man--he's upon me. Oh!--Oh, God! he's comin' nearer and
nearer. Help me--save me!"

Sullivan on holding the candle to his face, perceived that he was still
asleep; and suspecting the nature of his dream, he awoke him at once. On
seeing a portion of the family about him, he started again, and looked
for a moment so completely aghast that he resembled horror personified.

"Who--what--what are you? Oh," he exclaimed, recovering, and striving to
compose himself, "ha--Good God! what a frightful drame I had. I thought