Stories from My Attic (Classic Reprint)

Excerpt from Stories From My Attic

But though there is no hour of the day when it does not afford me a bright watch-tower from which to spy out the land, I am not sure but I like best those shady hours when I curl myself up on the seat and look sometimes Out On the shadows below, Oftener in upon the many cornered room, and at last I draw the red curtain across the window and watch the fire-light as it plays at hide and seek about the walls, running in behind pictures and then scampering back to the black coal. If I have anything pleasant to think about, it will dance in and out Of my mind to the rhythm Of the flashing fire-light.

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