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man was raving to himself—talking idly in mad unconnected sentences,—that yet seemed, at times, to have a reference to past facts.
One while he told us his dream. "He had lost his way on a great heath, to which there seemed no end—it was cold, cold, cold—and dark, very dark—an old woman in leading-strings, blind, was groping about for a guide"—and then he frightened me,—for he seemed disposed to be jocular, and sung a song about an "old woman clothed in gray," and said "he did not believe in a devil."
Presently he bid us "not tell Allan Clare"—Allan was hanging over him at that very moment, sob-bing.—
