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The besieged, seeing that the enemy gave no signs of retreat,

opened a window which looked out upon the churchyard, and cried,

"Help, help!" The moon shone brightly-every object could be

clearly discerned as in the day; but a deep repose rested over

all-there was no indication of a living soul. Contiguous to the

church, and on that side of it which fronted the parsonage, was a

small habitation in which slept the sexton. Aroused by this

strange outcry, he jumped from his bed, opened the small window,

with his eyelids glued together all the time, and cried, "What is

the matter?"