conceived as sufficiently dismal and appalling.  I know not if once at least I did not draw back, or let go my hold incontinently, as the din “grew long and loud.”  I own, without hesitation, that I turned away my head from the opening, as it became wider and wider at every pull; and it required a considerable effort before I could summon the requisite courage to look into the gap.  My head seemed as difficult to move as the door.  I cannot say that I was absolutely afraid of ghosts, but I was afraid of a peep from behind the door—­afraid of being frightened!  At length, with desperate boldness, I thrust my head plump into the chasm!

But I was more startled at the noise I had thus produced than by anything that was visible.  As far as the darkness would permit, I explored the interior, which, after all, was neither more nor less than a small closet.  From what cause it had been shut out from the apartment to which it had belonged, it were vain to conjecture.  All that was really cognisable to the senses presented itself in the shape of a shallow recess, some four feet by two, utterly unfurnished, save with some inches of accumulated dust and rubbish, that made it a work of great peril to grope out the fact of its otherwise absolute emptiness.  This discovery like many other notable enterprises seemed to lead to nothing.  I stepped out of my den, reeking with spoils which I would much rather have left undisturbed in their dark recesses.

Preparing for my departure, and a visit to my relation in the nearly adjoining town, who as yet had no other intimation of my arrival than a hasty note, to apprise him that I had once more set foot on English ground, and intended to visit him before my return, I stepped again to the window.  Darkness was fast gathering about me; a heavy scud was driven rapidly across the heavens, and the wind wailed in short and mournful gusts past the chamber.  The avenue was just visible from the spot where I stood; and, looking down, I thought I could discern more than one dark object moving apparently towards the house.  It may be readily conceived that I beheld their approach with an interest by no means free from apprehension; and it was not long ere two beings, in human habiliments, were distinctly seen at a short distance from the gate by which I had entered.  Feeling myself an intruder, and not being very satisfactorily prepared to account for my forcible entry into the premises, and the injury I had committed on the property of a stranger, I drew hastily aside, determined to effect a retreat whenever and wherever it might be in my power.  Door and window alternately presented themselves for the accomplishment of this unpleasant purpose, but before I could satisfy myself as to which was the more eligible offer, as doubters generally do contrive it, I lost all chance of availing myself of either. “Facilis descensus”—­“Easier in than out”—­&c., occurred to me; and many other classical allusions, much more appropriate