drowsy state. I found that we were going to
change.

They helped me out, and I said to a
waiter, whose bare head became as white as
King Lear's in a single minute: " What Inn
is this?"

"The Holly-Tree, sir," said he.

"Upon my word, I believe," said I,
apologetically to the guard and coachman, " that
I must stop here."

Now, the landlord, and the landlady, and
the ostler, and the postboy, and all the stable
authorities, had already asked the coachman,
to the wide-eyed interest of all the rest of the
establishment, if he meant to go on? The
coachman had already replied, "Yes, he'd
take her through it"—meaning by Her, the
coach—"if so be as George would stand
by him." George was the guard, and he had
already sworn that he would stand by him.
So, the helpers were already getting the
horses out.

My declaring myself beaten, after this parley,
was not an announcement without preparation.
Indeed, but for the way to the announcement
being smoothed by the parley, I more
than doubt whether, as an innately bashful
man, I should have had the confidence
to make it. As it was, it received the
approval, even of the guard and coachman.
Therefore, with many confirmations of my
inclining, and many remarks from one
bystander to another, that the gentleman could
go for'ard by the mail to-morrow, whereas
to-night he would only be froze, and where
was the good of a gentleman being froze—
ah, let alone buried alive (which latter clause
was added by a humorous helper as a joke
at my expense, and was extremely well
received), I saw my portmanteau got out
stiff, like a frozen body; did the handsome
thing by the guard and coachman; wished
them good night and a prosperous journey;
and, a little ashamed of myself after all, for
leaving them to fight it out alone, followed
the landlord, landlady, and waiter of the
Holly-Tree, up-stairs.

I thought I had never seen such a large
room as that into which they showed me. It
had five windows, with dark red curtains that
would have absorbed the light of a general
illumination; and there were complications
of drapery at the top of the curtains, that
went wandering about the wall in a most
extraordinary manner. I asked for a smaller room,
and they told me there was no smaller room.
They could screen me in, however, the landlord
said. They brought a great old japanned
screen, with natives (Japanese, I suppose),
engaged in a variety of idiotic pursuits all
over it; and left me, roasting whole before
an immense fire.

My bedroom was some quarter of a mile
off, up a great staircase, at the end of a long
gallery; and nobody knows what a misery
this is to a bashful man who would rather
not meet people on the stairs. It was the
grimmest room I have ever had the nightmare
in; and all the furniture, from the four
posts of the bed to the two old silver candlesticks,
was tall, high-shouldered, and spindle-
waisted. Below, in my sitting-room, if I looked
round my screen, the wind rushed at me like
a mad bull; if I stuck to my arm-chair, the
fire scorched me to the colour of a new brick.
The chimney-piece was very high, and there
was a bad glass—what I may call a wavy
glass—above it, which, when I stood up, just
showed me my anterior phrenological
developments—and these never look well, in any
subject, cut short off at the eyebrow. If I
stood with my back to the fire, a gloomy
vault of darkness above and beyond the
screen insisted on being looked at; and, in
its dim remoteness, the drapery of the ten
curtains of the five windows went twisting
and creeping about, like a nest of gigantic
worms.

I suppose that what I observe in myself
must be observed by some other men of
similar character in themselves; therefore I
am emboldened to mention, that when I
travel, I never arrive at a place but I
immediately want to go away from it. Before I
had finished my supper of broiled fowl and
mulled port, I had impressed upon the
waiter in detail, my arrangements for departure
in the morning. Breakfast and bill at
eight. Fly at nine. Two horses, or, if needful,
even four.

Tired though I was, the night appeared
about a week long. In cases of nightmare, I
thought of Angela, and felt more depressed
than ever by the reflection that I was on the
shortest road to Gretna Green. "What had /
to do with Gretna Green? I was not going
that way to the Devil, but by the American
route, I remarked, in my bitterness.

In the morning I found that it was snowing
still, that it had snowed all night, and that I
was snowed up. Nothing could get out of
that spot on the moor, or could come at it,
until the road had been cut out by laborers
from the market-town. When they might
cut their way to the Holly-Tree, nobody could
tell me.

It was now Christmas Eve. I should have
had a dismal Christmas-time of it anywhere,
and, consequently, that did not so much
matter; still, being snowed up, was, like
dying of frost, a thing I had not bargained
for. I felt very lonely. Yet I could no more
have proposed to the landlord and landlady
to admit me to their society (though I should
have liked it very much), than I could have
asked them to present me with a piece of
plate. Here my great secret, the real
bashfulness of my character, is to be observed.
Like most bashful men, I judge of other
people as if they were bashful too. Besides
being far too shame-faced to make the
proposal myself, I really had a delicate
misgiving that it would be in the last degree
disconcerting to them.