There are not many people -- and as it is desirable that a
story-teller and a story-reader should establish a mutual
understanding as soon as possible, beg it to be noticed
that I confine this observation neither to young people
nor to little people, but extend it to all conditions of
people: little and big, young and old: yet growing up, or
already growing down again -- there are not, I say, many
people who would care to sleep in a church. I mean at sermon-time in warm weather (when the thing
has actually been done, once or twice), but in the night,
and alone. A great multitude of persons will be violently
astonished, I know, by this position, in the broad bold
Day. But it applies to Night. It must be argued by night.
And I will undertake to maintain it successfully on any
gusty winter's night appointed for the purpose, with any
one opponent chosen from the rest, who will meet me
singly in an old church-yard, before an old church-door;
and will previously empower me to lock him in, if needful
to his satisfaction, until morning.
For the night-wind has a dismal trick of wandering round
and round a building of that sort, and moaning as it goes;
and of trying, with its unseen hand, the windows and the
doors; and seeking out some
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