The Chimes

Here 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 I 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 dont 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 winters night appointed for the purpose with any one opponent chosen from the rest who will meet me singly in an old churchyard 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 . . .