midnight
WIMBLEDON ; OR THE HERMIT OF THE CEDARS . `` The stars are out , and by their glistening light , I fain would whisper in thine ear a tale ; Wilt hear it kindly ? and if long and dull Believe me far more deeply grieved than thou . '' Clear and loud on the hushed silence of the midnight hour rang the chimes of the village clock , from the tall steeple-tower of the quaint old church of Wimbledon , while several ambitious chickens rose from their neighboring perches , piped a shrill answering salute , and sank to their nocturnal slumbers again . But nor clock nor chanticleer disturbed Wimbledon . Still she slept on beneath the blossoming stars ; and by their soft , inspiring light , with your permission , gentle reader , we 'll enter the sleeping village . Dim gleams of snowy cottages , peeping through a wealth of embowering vines , steal on our star-lighted vision as we roam along the grassy streets , and we scent the breath of gardens odorous with the sweets of dew-watered flowers .