That night Jim and Sam lay together in a little room to the windward of
the house. They were soon fast asleep, but, in the middle of the night,
Jim was woke by a shake on the shoulder, and, rousing himself, saw that
Sam was sitting up in the bed.
"My God, Jim!" said he,--"I have had such an awful dream! I dreamed
that those fellows in the boat were carrying off Alice, and I stood by
and saw it, and could not move hand or foot. I am terribly frightened.
That was something more than a dream, Jim."
"You ate too much of that pie at dinner," said Jim, "and you've had the
nightmare,--that's what is the matter with you. Lord bless you, I
often have the nightmare when I have eaten too much at supper, and lie
on my back. Why, I dreamed the other night that the devil had got me
under the wool-press, screwing me down as hard as he could, and singing
the Hundredth Psalm all the time. That was a much worse dream than
yours."
Sam was obliged to confess that it was. "But still," said he, "I think
mine was something more than a dream. I'm frightened still."
"Oh, nonsense; lie down again. You are pulling all the clothes off me.
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