beating. From below, the smothered sound 
of voices came, where still with Busby’s 
social dame, their guest sat by the fading 
tire and watched its fleeting flame expire 
while she listened, but no word they utter¬ 
ed could be clearly heard; but soon a recol¬ 
lection came that sent a shudder through 
her frame—the sausage to be fried at morn, 
the breakfast table to adorn, was in the 
bedroom where their guest would soon 
betake himself to rest. The clock struck 
ten, she softly said, “I’ll get it ere he goes 
to bed.” 
The spare bed stood within a room as 
still and humid as a tomb; ’twas never 
aired, 'twas seldom swept; in its dark cor¬ 
ners spiders crept; they built their bridges 
through the air, and no rude broom dis¬ 
turbed them there. The rain, that fell on 
roof decayed, dripped through the chinks 
that time had made, and on the white¬ 
washed walls ran down in wondrous fres¬ 
coes tinged with brown; the window-panes, 
with frost o'erspread, were warmer than 
that icy bed. Cold was the matting on the 
floor; cold blew the breeze beneath the 
door; cold were the straight-backed chairs 
of wood; cold was the oaken stand that 
stood, on spindling legs that looked as chill, 
as lone, bare pines, on some bleak hill; high 
rose that Led o’er things below, like some 
tall iceberg capped with snow. Here every 
highly honored guest, when bedtime came, 
retired to “rest.” 
Within its large and mouldy press hung 
Mrs. Busby’s best silk dress; her Sunday 
bonnet, shoes and shawl, on rusty nails 
against the wall, by Mr. Busby’s suit of 
blue, that at his wedding had been new. 
Here on a peg his best cravat reposed with¬ 
in his old fur hat; here, shut from sight of 
human eyes, were rows of mince and apple 
pies, with rolls of sausage and head-cheese, 
stored on the shelves and left to freeze. 
From out her cot the maiden crept, slip¬ 
ped on her shoes and softly stepped along 
the hall and through the gloom, until she 
reached the chilly room. Unseen she cross¬ 
ed the icy floor, unheard unlocked the 
closet door, snatched from the shelf, in a 
firm hold, a bag of sausage stiff and cold; 
then turning quickly, sought to beat a sud¬ 
den, safe and sure retreat. Too late! 
A light gleamed on the wall, and sound of 
footsteps filled the hall; then to the room 
came boldly on the stalwart form of Little¬ 
john! She backward stepped and stood 
aghast, then closed the door and held it fast. 
With chattering teeth and trembling 
frame across the floor Lycurgus came. He 
placed the candle in his hand upon the 
spindling oaken' stand; then closed the 
door, and, with a frown, within a cold chair 
settled down. He threw his boots upon the 
floor, and, rising, tried the closet door; but 
Aunt Rebecca, in affright, clung to the 
latch with all her might. To look within 
Lycurgus failed; he turned away and 
thought it nailed! Then, pulling down the 
snowy spread, he put his warm brick in the 
bed, took off his clothes, and slipped 
between the sheets of ice, so white and 
clean, blew out the light, and, with a sneeze,, 
close to his chin he brought his knees; 
beneath the clothes he drew his nose, and 
tried in vain to find repose; while “Aunt 
Rebecca,” from the wall, took down the 
Sunday gown and shawl; she wrapped them 
round her freezing form, and blushed to 
keep her visage warm. 
The paper curtains, loosely hung upon the 
windows, rustling swung, while through 
each quivering, narrow frame of frosty 
panes a dim light came, that made the fur¬ 
niture appear like dusky phantoms crouch¬ 
ing near. Lycurgus listened in the storm, 
and hugged his brick to keep him warm; 
but colder grew the humid bed, the clothes 
congealed around his head; to feel at ease 
in vain he tried, he tossed and turned from 
side to side; each time he moved, beneath 
his weight the bedstead creaked like some 
farm gate. His brick grew cold, he could 
not sleep, a strange sensation seemed to 
creep upon him, while across the floor he 
closely watched the closet door. 
Was he but dreaming? No! his eyes 
beheld with wonder and surprise, what 
man had never seen before—there was a 
movement at the door. It slowly turned 
and to his sight came, through the dim, un¬ 
certain light a hideous hand, that in its 
clasp some awful object seemed to grasp, 
a crouching form, with frightful head, 
seemed slowly coming towards the bed. 
(Concluded onpage 9.) 
