water and my knees like soft wax, is to express in mild words my
state of abject terror. There was no need to inquire what the maids
thought, for smothered shrieks, louder and louder as each peal of
knocks vibrated through the little house, proclaimed sufficiently
their sentiments on the subject.

Dear me, how ridiculous it all must have been! In one corner of the
ceiling of our bedroom was a little trap-door which opened into an
attic adjoining that where the big cadet slept. Now whilst F--- was
hurriedly taking down his double-barrelled gun from its bracket just
below this aperture, and I held the candlestick with so shaky a hand
that the extinguisher clattered like a castanet, this door was
slowly lifted up, and a large white face, with dishevelled stubbly
hair and wide-open blue eyes, looked down through the cobwebs,
saying in a husky whisper, "Could you let me have a rifle, or any
thing?" This was our gallant cadet, who had no idea of presenting
himself at a disadvantage before the foe. I had desperately seized
a revolver, but F--- declared that if I persisted in carrying it I
certainly should go first, as he did not wish to be shot in the
back.

We held a hurried council of war,--Mr. A--- assisting through the
trap door, and the maids breathing suggestions through the
partition-planks,--but the difficulty consisted in determining at
which door the knocking was going on. Some said one, and some
another (for there were many modes of egress from the tiny
dwelling); but at last F--- cried decidedly, "We must try them all
in succession," and shouldering his gun, with the revolver sticking
in the girdle of his dressing-gown, sallied valiantly forth. I
don't know what became of Mr. A---: I believe he took up a position