In one of the long, black, chilly nights of winter, when it was much warmer in a kitchen of Glyn-cywarch, than on the summit of Cadair Idris, and much more pleasant to be in a snug chamber, with a warm bed-fellow, than in a shroud in the church yard, I was mussing upon some discourses which had passed between me and a neighbour, upon _the shortness of human life_, and how certain every one is of dying, and how uncertain as to the time. Whilst thus engaged, having but newly laid my head down upon the pillow, and being about half awake, I felt a great weight coming stealthily upon me, from the crown of my head to my heel, so that I could not stir a finger, nor any thing except my tongue, and beheld a lad upon my breast, and a lass mounted upon his back. On looking sharply, I guessed, from the warm smell which came from him, his clammy locks, and his gummy eyes, that the lad must be _master Sleep_. "Pray, sir," said I, squealing, "what have I done to you, that you bring that witch here to suffocate me?" "Hush," said he, "it is only my sister _Nightmare_; we are both going to visit our brother _Death_, and have need of a third, and lest you should resist, we have come upon you without warning, as he himself will sometime; therefore you must come, whether you will or not." "Alas!" said I, "must I die?" "O no," said _Nightmare_; "we will spare you this time." "But with your favour," said I, "your brother Death never spared any one yet who was brought within reach of his dart; the fellow even ventured to fling a fall with the Lord of Life himself, though it is true he gained very little by his daring." At these words _Nightmare_ arose full of wrath and departed. "Hey," said _Sleep_, "come away, and you shall have no cause to repent of your journey." "Well," said I, "may there never be night to _saint Sleep_, and may _Nightmare_ never obtain any other place to crouch upon than the top of an awl, unless you return me to where you found me." Then away he went with me, over woods and precipices, over oceans and valleys, over castles and towers, rivers and crags; and where did we descend, but by one of the gates of the daughters of Belial, on the posterior side of the _city of Perdition_, and I could there perceive, that the three gates of Perdition contracted into one on the hinder side, and opened into the same place--a place foggy, cold, and pestilential, replete with an unwholesome vapour, and clouds, lowering and terrible. "Pray, sir," said I, "what dungeon of a place is this?" "_The chambers of Death_," said _Sleep_. I had scarcely time to enquire, before I heard some people crying, some screaming, some groaning, some talking deliriously, some uttering blasphemies in a feeble tone: others in great agony, as if about to give up the ghost. Here and there one, after a mighty shout would become silent, and then forthwith I could hear a key revolving in a lock; I turned at the sound to look for the door, and by dint of long gazing, I