had been listening to all the stories of Claus Hopper and Peter de Groodt:  he was fond of adventure, he loved the marvellous, and his imagination had become quite excited by these tales of wonder.  Besides, he had led such an uncomfortable life at the doctor’s, being subjected to the intolerable thraldom of early hours, that he was delighted at the prospect of having a house to himself, even though it should be a haunted one.  His offer was eagerly accepted, and it was determined that he should mount guard that very night.  His only stipulation was, that the enterprise should be kept secret from his mother; for he knew the poor soul would not sleep a wink, if she knew that her son was waging war with the powers of darkness.

When night came on, he set out on this perilous expedition.  The old black cook, his only friend in the household, had provided him with a little mess for supper, and a rushlight; and she tied round his neck an amulet, given her by an African conjurer, as a charm against evil spirits.  Dolph was escorted on his way by the doctor and Peter de Groodt, who had agreed to accompany him to the house, and to see him safe lodged.  The night was overcast, and it was very dark when they arrived at the grounds which surrounded the mansion.  The sexton led the way with a lantern.  As they walked along the avenue of acacias, the fitful light, catching from bush to bush, and tree to tree, often startled the doughty Peter, and made him, fall back upon his followers; and the doctor grabbed still closer hold of Dolph’s arm, observing that the ground was very slippery and uneven.  At one time they were nearly put to a total rout by a bat, which came flitting about the lantern; and the notes of the insects from the trees, and the frogs from a neighbouring pond, formed a most drowsy and doleful concert.

The front door of the mansion opened with a grating sound, that made the doctor turn pale.  They entered a tolerably large hall, such as is common in American country-houses, and which serves for a sitting-room in warm weather.  From hence they went up a wide staircase, that groaned and creaked as they trod, every step making its particular note, like the key of a harpsichord.  This led to another hall on the second story, from whence they entered the room where Dolph was to sleep.  It was large, and scantily furnished; the shutters were closed; but as they were much broken, there was no want of a circulation of air.  It appeared to have been that sacred chamber, known among Dutch housewives by the name of “the best bed-room;” which is the best furnished room in the house, but in which scarce any body is ever permitted to sleep.  Its splendour, however, was all at an end.  There were a few broken articles of furniture about the room, and in the centre stood a heavy deal table and a large arm-chair, both of which had the look of being coeval with the mansion.  The fire-place was wide, and had been faced with Dutch tiles, representing scripture stories; but some of