His journey soon ended, his dreaming was done, And quickly dismounted the wonderful one. Save a handkerchief-parcel, conveniently small, No baggage or bag was he cumber'd withal; Right glad was his heart that he was not delay'd With porters disputing, and people dismay'd. At the first man he met, with a citizen's air, He propounded a question--it made the man stare; The answer was ready, the questioner bow'd, And hastily elbow'd his way through the crowd. 'Oh ho!' said his neighbor, as off he went, (The one that had wonder'd,) 'I know what he meant!' * * * * * AT a house, (but I cannot tell which it may be, Though possess'd of an author's ubiquity,) At a house in that city, inhabits a maid, Who travels by spirit, and makes it a trade. That maid and her sister were sitting alone, Employ'd in some manner not certainly known; They might have been working, or reading, I guess, Or playing at cards, or back-gammon, or chess; Whatever employ'd them, a very loud rap Disorder'd their nerves like a thunder-clap. The sleep-walker quickly adjusted her hair, Assuming the look she intended to wear, And toss'd on the table, as other maids do, Some 'work,' with the needle appearing half through. One glance to see ev'ry thing properly plac'd; Or derang'd to exactly the limits of taste, Then, putting her chair with the back tow'rd the light, Prepar'd for the visitor, be who he might. The other, who play'd a subordinate part, Took the same little process, with little less art; And then was directed to 'ascertain straight What manner of person it was at the gate.' Oh! sleep-walker! sleep-walker! did you but know, Who the visitor is, that is waiting below. A leech in good practice, and wanting a wife, You'd think him a capital venture for life.