e whole post seem dismal, and as I came in
the house and locked the door, I felt as if I could never remain
here until morning. Hang was in his room, of course but would be no
protection whatever if anything should happen.

Major and Mrs. Stokes have not yet returned from the East, so the
adjoining house is unoccupied, and on my right is Mrs. Norton, who is
alone also, as Doctor Norton is in camp with the troops. She had urged
me to go to her house for the night, but I did not go, because of the
little card party. I ran upstairs as though something evil was at my
heels and bolted my door, but did not fasten the dormer windows that
run out on the roof in front. Before retiring, I put a small, lighted
lantern in a closet and left the door open just a little, thinking that
the streak of light would be cheering and the lantern give me a light
quickly if I should need one.

Our breakfast had been very early that morning, on account of the troops
marching, and I was tired and fell asleep immediately, I think. After
a while I was conscious of hearing some one walking about in the room
corresponding to mine in the next house, but I dozed on, thinking to
myself that there was no occasion for feeling nervous, as the people
next door were still up. But suddenly I remembered that the house was
closed, and just then I distinctly heard some one go down the stairs.
I kept very still and listened, but heard nothing more and soon went to
sleep again, but again I was awakened--this time by queer noises--like
some one walking on a roof. There were voices, too, as if some one was
mumbling to himself.

I got the revolver and ran to the middle of the room, where I stood
ready to shoot or run--it would probably have been run--in any
direction. I finally got courage to look through a side window, feeling
quite sure that Mrs. Norton was out with her Chinaman, looking after
some choice little chickens left in her care by the doctor. But not one
light was to be seen in any place, and the inky blackness was awful to
look upon, so I turned away, and just as I did so, something cracked and
rattled down over the shingles and then fell to the ground. But which
roof those sounds came from was impossible to tell. With "goose flesh"
on my arms, and each hair on my head trying to stand up, I went back to
the middle of the room, and there I stood, every nerve quivering.

I had been standing there hours--or possibly it was only two short
minutes--when t