As for myself, I went home in convulsions; took sixty drops of laudanum, and fell asleep. I dreamed that I was in a beautiful city, the streets of which intersected each other at right angles; that the birds of the air and the beasts of the forest had gathered there for battle, the former led on by a Frenchman, the latter by an Italian; that I was looking on their movements towards each other, when I heard the cry of “Hecate is coming!” I turned my eye to the north-east, and saw a female flying through the air toward the city, and distinctly recognised in her the features of Miss Crump. I took the alarm, and was making my escape, when she gave command for the beasts and birds to fall on me. They did so, and, with all the noises of the animal world, were in the act of tearing me to pieces, when I was waked by the stepping of Hall, my room-mate, into bed.
“Oh, my dear sir,” exclaimed I, “you have waked me from a horrible dream. What o’clock is it?”
“Ten minutes after twelve,” said he.
“And where have you been to this late hour?”
“I have just returned from the party.”
“And what kept you so late?”
“Why, I disliked to retire while Miss Crump was playing.”
“In mercy’s name!” said I, “is she playing yet?”
“Yes,” said he; “I had to leave her playing at last.”
“And where was Jenkins?”