Worcester Daily Spy

THE DAILY SPY.
(From the Albany Dutchman.)
A Night of Terror;
OR
The Dangers of Sleeping too Soundly
BY PAUL CREYTON.
Frank Brittle had the misfortune to be a sound
sleeper, I say misfortune—for, although nothing is more devoutly to be desired than deep and
peaceful sleep, a man may, on some occasions,
sleep too soundly, as the following will go to show:
One night last winter, Mr. Stringer, (familiarly
called Ned,) Frank's room-mate, having given no-
tice that he would not be at home until the follow-
ing day, Frank retired to his sleeping apartment,
locked the door, and went to bed. When Ned was
at home, the door was never locked, for Ned would
awake in case any one should enter the room; but
alone, Frank knew that robbers might come and
carry him off, and cut his throat before he was
aware of the danger. Besides, Frank was a very
modest man, and he shuddered to think that any of
the girls in the house, coming home late, might get
into the wrong room, and enjoy a beautiful nap at
his side, without his ever knowing anything about
it. So Frank locked the door, and went to sleep.
At about midnight, however, from some unac-
countable cause, he awoke. It was well he did.
In another minute he might have been a dead man,
not worth awaking. There was a robber getting in
at the window! It was a starlight night, and Frank,
trembling with terror, saw a dark figure rising upon
the sill. He felt his flesh creep, his hair bristle,
and his limbs to shake.
But, terrified as he was, Frank was too brave to
abandon the field, without one bold stroke at the
robber. There was a poker on the stove, a ham-
mer on the mantle-piece, and even a loaded pistol
under the looking-glass. Some men would have
made use of one of these weapons; but Frank
thought he would try what virtue there was in cold
water. In his trepidation he seized the pitcher,
dashed its contents upon the head and bosom of the
robber, and—fled from the room!
Closing the door between himself and the mid-
night visitor, he paused to listen—wishing all the
time that he had thought to take the key, so that he
might effectually prevent the robber following him,
and take vengeance on him for spilling his own
blood.
Frank, to his horror and dismay, heard the robber
uttering deep curses, climb the window sill, and
enter the room.
'Thief! murder! robbers!' he shouted at the top
of his voice.
'Hush your confounded nonsense!' thundered the
man in the room.
Frank started. He knew that voice, he was sure.
' Ned!' he cried, 'is it you?
'To be sure it is! What did you throw that
water in my face for? Hang your jaws. I'll pay
you!'
At this moment, Frank heard movements on the
stairs. As he was in the hall, in his shirt, he was
filled with horror at the thought of being seen in that
predicament. He hastened to retreat into his room
—but Ned had locked him out!
'For God's sake!' cried Frank, in agony, 'open
the door. The women are coming!'
'The women will have to come then!' replied
Ned, coolly. 'You locked me out.'
'But I thought you were not coming home to-
night!'
'Well, I did come! And I knocked away at the
door for an hour, but you wouldn't let me in.'
'I didn't hear you! I was asleep!"
'Asleep! you were too lazy to get up and unlock
the door. Asleep!—when I finally went around to
get in the window, you could wake up and throw
water upon me.'
'I thought it was a robber! For Heaven's sake.
pleaded Frank, 'let me in! The women are coming
down stairs! The light is almost here. Do let me
in. I'll never sleep so sound again. They're right
here. O, Ned! Ned! I've nothing but my shirt on!'
But Ned was inexorable.
'Do as I did, if you want to get in,' he mut-
tered.
'How was that?
'Go around the house, and get in at the window.'
'O. I can't!'
'Then let the girls find you there.'
Frank saw there was but one alternative. He
paused but a moment to consider, and then darted
through the hall like a spectre. The terrified board-
ers—men, women and boys—were already on the
stairs—Frank perceived that he could not reach the
hall door, without running the gauntlet, in the full
glare of the lamps. Then he thought that even if
he should get into the street, the watchman might
nab him before he could scale his bed-room win-
dow. Ned might remember his cold bath, and treat
him to a shower, perhaps, not quite so agreeable,
before he could get safely in. In his perplexity,
Frank conceived a lucky thought. He dodged into
the parlor and shut the door.
At that moment, the revengeful Ned rushed out
of the room with a light, crying 'murder!' 'rob-
bers!' in a most excited manner.
'Where?
'Who?
'Do tell!
'When?
'Is that you, Mr. Stringer?'
In reply to the terrified voices which came to him
from the stairs and landing above, Ned boldly shout-
ed—
'Here—in the parlor!'
'I saw him run in there!' cried the nervous Miss
Milner, almost fainting with terror.
'I'll call a watchman,' said Mr. Flimm, looking
very white and cold.
'A watchman! fudge!' exclaimed Ned. 'There
is only one—and it is a shame to call the watch un-
til we have secured him.'
How the women admired Mr. Stringer's courage
at that moment.
He marched boldly to the parlor door. Mr.
Flimm, ashamed to appear cowardly, followed him,
trembling in every joint. Mr. Moon followed Mr.
Flimm. The women, whose curiosity overcame
their fear, followed Mr. Moon. Unfortunately for
Frank, the key was not on the inside. Ned threw
the door open, and walked courageously in, at the
head of his forces.
By the light of the lamps, Ned looked around, ex-
pecting to see Frank squatting in a corner, or trying
to cover himself up with the window curtains.
Much to his disappointment, he could see him no
where; and the men, much to their relief, could see
no robber. But Ned thought he heard a movement
under the piano.
'Here he is!' he exclaimed—'here he is!—catch
him! hold him!'
He drew aside the cloth, held down his lamp, and
discovered to all eyes, the robber who had taken refuge there. Frank rushed out in a fit of desperation. The men fled, the women shrieked, and Ned burst into a roar of laughter.

The boarders recovered from their fright, and Ned told them the whole story, awaking peals of laughter in the usual quiet walls of the old boarding house.

Meanwhile, Frank, in a fit of rage and desperation, had reached his room, and locked Ned out.

So Ned had to sleep on the sofa the rest of the night.

And the two room-mates were not reconciled to each other until three days afterward, when Frank forgave Ned, Ned forgave Frank; and Ned does not get in at the window any more, and Frank does not sleep quite as soundly as was formerly his custom.