My mother's brother, whose profession was that of a surgeon, chanced to spend this night at our house.

It was from him that I have frequently received an exact account of the mournful catastrophe that followed.
As the evening advanced, my father's inquietudes increased.

He sat with his family as usual, but took no part in their conversation.

He appeared fully engrossed by his own reflections.

Occasionally his countenance exhibited tokens of alarm; he gazed stedfastly and wildly at the ceiling; and the exertions of his companions were scarcely sufficient to interrupt his reverie.