having already taken so much trouble to find out a room that was inhabited—­for that such was the case, a short, thick snore assured me —­so that my resolve was at once made, to waken the sleeper, and endeavour to interest him in my destitute situation.  I accordingly approached the place where the nasal sounds seemed to issue from, and soon reached the post of a bed.  I waited for an instant, and then began,

“Monsier, voulez vous bien me permettre—­”

“As to short whist, I never could make it out, so there is an end of it,” said my unknown friend, in a low, husky voice, which, strangely enough, was not totally unfamiliar to me:  but when or how I had heard it before I could not then think.

Well, thought I, he is an Englishman at all events, so I hope his patriotism may forgive my intrusion, so here goes once more to rouse him, though he seems a confoundedly heavy sleeper.  “I beg your pardon, sir, but unfortunately in a point like the present, perhaps—­”

“Well, do you mark the points, and I’ll score the rubber,” said he.

“The devil take the gambling fellow’s dreaming,” thought I, raising my voice at the same time.

“Perhaps a cold night, sir, may suffice as my apology.”

“Cold, oh, ay! put a hot poker to it,” muttered he; “a hot poker, a little sugar, and a spice of nutmeg—­nothing else—­then it’s delicious.”

“Upon my soul, this is too bad,” said I to myself.  “Let us see what shaking will do.  Sir, sir, I shall feel obliged by—­”

“Well there, don’t shake me, and I’ll tell you where I hid the cigars —­they are under my straw hat in the window.”

“Well, really,” thought I, “if this gentleman’s confessions were of an interesting nature, this might be good fun; but as the night is cold, I must shorten the ‘seance,’ so here goes for one effort more.

“If, sir, you could kindly spare me even a small portion of your bed-clothes.”

“No, thank you, no more wine; but I’ll sing with pleasure;” and here the wretch, in something like the voice of a frog with the quinsy, began, “‘I’d mourn the hopes that leave me.’”

“You shall mourn something else for the same reason,” said I, as losing all patience, I seized quilts and blankets by the corner, and with one vigourous pull wrenched them from the bed, and darted from the room—­in a second I was in the corridor, trailing my spoil behind—­which in my haste I had not time to collect in a bundle.  I flew rather than ran along the passage, reached the stairs, and in another minute had reached the second gallery, but not before I heard the slam of a door behind me, and the same instant the footsteps of a person running along the corridor, who could be no other than my pursuer, effectually aroused by my last appeal to his charity.  I darted along the dark and narrow passage; but soon to my horror discovered that I must have passed the door of my chamber, for I had reached