about one in the morning
It was pastoral , and perhaps barbarous , but everything was natural , and everything free from pretension . I did not often again , though I have danced with spirits as unwearied , dance with a heart so light . During this festive evening I saw no indications of that pugnacity so inseparable with Irish hilarity , though there were assembled a dozen of as pretty `` broths of boys , '' as ever practised skull salutation at Donybrook fair . At length , about one in the morning , the whiskey had overpowered my boat 's crew , and the whisking myself . They made up a lair for me with abundant greatcoats in the corner of the room , and my eyes gradually closed in sleep , catching , till they were finally sealed up , every now and then , twinklings of bare legs and well-turned ankles , mingled with the clatter of heavy brogues , and the drone of a bagpipe that had now superseded the squeak of the fife , and the rattle of the drum . I certainly did dream , I suppose about an hour after I had fallen asleep , of the clattering of sticks , the squalling of women , and the cursing of men ; and I felt an indistinct sensation , as if people were practising leaping over my body , and finally , as if some soft-rounded figure had caught me in her arms . I was so terribly oppressed with fatigue that I could not awake ; and , as the last part of my dream gave me so sweet an idea of happiness and security , if I may use the expression , I shall say , as every novelist has a right to do once in his three volumes -- `` I was lapped in Elysium . ''