FRIGHTS!—No. II.
We now propose to turn to other illustrations of fright familiar to every family, and susceptible of description. Let us take a night-scene, conjured up by a sudden alarm of
Thieves!
'Tis midnight, and "the very houses seem asleep," out-houses and all. The "quiet family" has attained its utmost pitch of quietness. All sleep soundly, where no sound is heard. A breathless hush pervades the domicile. On a sudden, there is a smart crash, a rattling sound, below. This sleeper starts up in bed; that, darts farther under the clothes. "What's that?" is the inward question of everybody. The thought of thieves occurs to each in turn; one is certain that the area-door has been forced open; another is sure that the back-parlour sash has been raised. They lie still, with panting hearts, and listen. Again there is a noise; it is like creaking footsteps on the stairs, or the opening of drawers; then all is silent again, and then the noise is renewed.
At last one little quaking Miss ventures half-stifled to whisper, "Sarah, are you awake?" And Sarah faintly answers, "Yes, did you hear that?" and both bury themselves in the bed, and dare not breathe. And then they hear a door open softly, and they utter a low cry of terror; and then in another minute the door of their own room opens, and with a loud scream they start up—only to see their dear good mama with a candle in her hand; but she is pale and frightened, and desires to know if they had made the noise—but they had not; only they distinctly heard somebody getting in at the back-door, or the parlour-window. Then papa commands the whole assembled family "not to be frightened," and shakes dreadfully—with cold—as he looks at his blunderbuss, and avows his determination to proceed down-stairs. And then there is a "hush!" and a general listening. Yes, there is a noise still, and to the stairs he advances; while his better-half lights his way and holds his garments tight to check his desperate enthusiasm; and the eldest daughter hardly ventures beyond the chamber-door, but with astonishing boldness and exemplary daring springs a rattle; and the others hold on each by each, taking fresh fright from one another's fears. What an amount of suffering, dread, terror—is in the bosom of the little quiet family, as down to the scene of danger they creep with tortoise-pace! And what is all this anxiety, this trepidation, this sickness of the heart, for! What has occasioned so terrific a commotion! Perhaps the tongs have fallen down, and the clatter has filled their ears with all sorts of imaginary noises! Perhaps the cat is clawing at a string tied to the latch of the pantry-door; or perhaps the stupid little kitten, having got her tail into the catch of the last new patent mouse-trap, has dragged that excellent invention off the dresser, and is whisking round at intervals in a wearying and vain endeavour to extricate her unprehensile appendage! "Dear me! well I declare how I have been frightening myself!" cries every member of the shivering family; and the very next night, should the very same noises again be heard, the whole frightened family would start, turn pale, quake, wonder, pant, scream, and spring rattles, exactly as before. Where Fear has once taken possession, Experience does not always make folks wise.
"Thieves"!!!