"It must then have been past eight," said Daly. "On I trudged; scrambled over the furrows of one field, and through the turnips in another; and so on and on, until at last I was forced to sit myself down on a gate and rest; and, I give you my word, although I have known a great deal of the world, I never was so dead beat in my life as I was then. Not a house could I see. The glimmering of a rushlight in a cottage window would, in my eyes, have been thrice more brilliant than the whole regalia of England collected. But no: there were no cottages--no rushlights; and I do believe I went the length of swearing at my own stupidity in undertaking my solitary excursion. Only one set-off was there to the whole thing;--I had seen the Bagswashes, male and female, and laid in materials for an _historiette_ for the next evening--that is, if I really survived the present one; but I began to feel cold, and hungry, and thirsty. However, it appeared pretty certain that out of the fields I must get, if I went straight on end, and could not well fail of fetching up in a road somewhere at last." "Which, as you are here alive to tell the tale," said I, "of course you did." "Why, yes," said Daly, "I did; but it was not for a long time; and then I had come to a full stop; and, striking the butt of my Manton on the ground, I swore, by stock and barrel, that I would not budge from under a huge tree which overshadowed me till daylight came to my aid. I was ravenous--I was chilled--I was wretched--I was tired to death; but why tire myself more?--and accordingly, feeling, and I daresay looking, very like the dear Don of La Mancha, I sat myself down with my back against the trunk, and, if you'll believe me, fell fast asleep." "Asleep!" said I. "Fast as a church," said Daly, "and dreamt--dreamt, first, that I was starving,--_that_, I think, must have been a sort of waking vision; then, that I was at a ball; and then I dreamt of being safe back at mine host's hospitable mansion; and then I had a confused, hurly-burly kind of a dream, either that I was Sir Marmaduke Wrigglesworth, or that Lady Wrigglesworth was Mrs. Daly, or something of that sort, and that I tumbled out of bed, which tumble was to me a 'dying fall;' for I rolled over on my side, and woke--in no bed--in no house, but where I had lain me down, under the tree before-mentioned." "You must have caught your death of cold?" said I.