ABSTRACT
But, though all the company went to bed, they did not all enjoy the refreshment of sleep. The imagination of young Hawthorn was so heated by the stories he had heard, and the apparitions he fancied he had seen, that he lay rolled up in the bedclothes in a violent perspiration, afraid to look up left he should see the ghost of the whipper-in peeping through the bed-curtains, and thinking every mouse he heard behind the wainscot was the spectre of Viper padding about the room. /
