A Whim, and Its Consequences 

Excerpt: A solitary room at midnight: a single wax candle lighted on the table: the stiff dull crimson silken curtains of the bed close drawn: half a dozen phials and two or three glasses. Is it the chamber of a sick man? He must sleep sound if it be, for there is no noise—not even a breath; and all without is as still as death. There is awe in the silence; the candle sheds gloom, not light, the d...