At the last wave of her hands everything vanished, he felt himself sinking into the profoundest slumber, and remembered nothing more until he awoke in earnest.
The setting moon was throwing a feeble light through the casement, and the house was full of uproar.

There was soft heavy multitudinous stamping, a clashing and clanging of weapons, the voices of men and the cries of women, mixed with a hideous bellowing, which sounded victorious.

The cobs were in the house! He sprang from his bed, hurried on some of his clothes, not forgetting his shoes, which were armed with nails; then spying an old hunting-knife, or short sword, hanging on the wall, he caught it, and rushed down the stairs, guided by the sounds of strife, which grew louder and louder.
When he reached the ground floor he found the whole place swarming.
All the goblins of the mountain seemed gathered there.

He rushed amongst them, shouting: 'One, two, Hit and hew! Three, four, Blast and bore!' and with every rhyme he came down a great stamp upon a foot, cutting at the same time their faces--executing, indeed, a sword dance of the wildest description.

Away scattered the goblins in every direction--into closets, up stairs, into chimneys, up on rafters, and down to the cellars.