ateandIdrank；and，asIateanddrank，Imusedwithinmyself，andmyeyeswerefrequentlydirectedtoasmallgreenbox，whichconstitutedpartofmyluggage，andwhich，withtherestofmythings，stoodinonecorneroftheroom，tillatlast，leavingmybreakfastunfinished，Irose，and，goingtothebox，unlockedit，andtookouttwoorthreebundlesofpaperstiedwithredtape，and，placingthemonthetable，Iresumedmyseatandmybreakfast，myeyesintentlyfixeduponthebundlesofpapersallthetime。
AndwhenIhaddrainedthelastcupofteaoutofadingyteapot，andatethelastsliceofthedingyloaf，Iuntiedoneofthebundles，andproceededtolookoverthepapers，whichwerecloselywrittenoverinasingularhand，andIreadforsometime，tillatlastIsaidtomyself，’Itwilldo。’AndthenIlookedattheotherbundleforsometimewithoutuntyingit；andatlastIsaid，’Itwilldoalso。’AndthenIturnedtothefire，and，puttingmyfeetagainstthesidesofthegrate，Ileanedbackonmychair，and，withmyeyesuponthefire，fellintodeepthought。
AndthereIcontinuedinthoughtbeforethefire，untilmyeyesclosed，andIfellasleep；whichwasnottobewonderedat，afterthefatigueandcoldwhichIhadlatelyundergoneonthecoach-top；
and，inmysleep，Iimaginedmyselfstillthere，amidstdarknessandrain，hurryingnowoverwildheaths，andnowalongroadsoverhungwiththickandumbrageoustrees，andsometimesmethoughtI
heardthehornoftheguard，andsometimesthevoiceofthecoachman，nowchiding，nowencouraginghishorses，astheytoiledthroughthedeepandmiryways。Atlengthatremendouscrackofawhipsalutedthetympanumofmyear，andIstartedupbroadawake，nearlyoversettingthechaironwhichIreclined-andlo!Iwasinthedingyroombeforethefire，whichwasbythistimehalfextinguished。InmydreamIhadconfoundedthenoiseofthestreetwiththoseofmynightjourney；thecrackwhichhadarousedmeI