“Before going to bed I took my light, and stepping out softly I went to reconnoitre the other room, the door of which we had passed on the way to the room in which I was to spend the night: I was obliged to descend two steps to enter this room, where I found nothing frightful to be sure, there being only some old clothes hanging up, and the bins of grain of which I have spoken before. I returned to my room, and with great difficulty moved a rude chest of drawers, across the place where a door should be, on this I placed my little trunk, and the only chair in the room, an old shovel, and a broken pitcher, determined that if any one did enter the room, it should not be without noise enough to give me warning. Before this barricade I set my candle, hoping it might continue to burn all night.” “I laid down without undressing, determined that I would only rest; I would not even close my eyes to sleep. I had laid thus as I supposed an hour, listening to the voices of the old people and their sons, as in subdued tones they talked together below. At the end of that time the door opened, and I heard stealthy steps ascending the ladder. My heart, as the saying is, was in my throat, and I could hear its every throb. The steps came nearer and nearer, and as the first foot-fall sounded on the floor of the little passage, which led to my room, I shrieked, ‘Who is there? what do you want?’” “‘Bless your soul it’s only me; you need not scream so,’ said the old woman. ‘I’m only going to the bin for some corn-meal to make mush for your breakfast.’” “‘I do believe the gal thinks we are going to murder her in her bed,’ I heard her say with a loud laugh as she descended the ladder; ‘you ought to see the _chist_, and the things she’s got piled on top of it, all standing in the door-way.’” “At this the men’s voices joined in the laugh, and they sounded horribly to me. ‘Yes,’ I thought to myself, ‘how easy it would be for them to murder us in our beds, and there would be no one to tell the tale.’ Soon after this, in spite of my resolution to keep awake, sleep must have overpowered me, for I was awakened by a tremendous crash, as if the house was falling, and I opened my eyes to find myself in total darkness, and to hear soft footsteps in my room.” “Oh, how I shrieked this time! I believe I cried ‘help! help! murder!’ and I soon heard footsteps approaching, and saw a light gleaming up the ladder way, and soon the old woman’s night-cap appeared over the chest. ‘What _is_ the matter now?’ she cried with some impatience, ‘you certainly are the most _narvous_ lodger I’ve ever had yet.’” “‘Matter enough,’ said I, ‘there is some one in my room. Didn’t you hear that awful crash?’” “‘Pshaw! it’s only our old black cat!’ said the old woman; ‘he always comes up to this room to sleep, but we thought we had shut him out.’” “‘Can he climb the ladder?’ I asked.”