one o'clock in the
morning
The autumn gales blew themselves out and blew in their successors , the howling blasts of winter . Winter at Gould 's Bluffs , so Galusha Bangs discovered , was no light jest of the weather bureau . His first January no ` theaster taught him that . Lying in his bed at one o'clock in the morning , feeling that bed tremble beneath him as the wind gripped the sturdy gables of the old house , while the snow beat in hissing tumult against the panes , and the great breakers raved and roared at the foot of the bluff -- this was an experience for Galusha . The gray dawn of the morning brought another , for , although it was no longer snowing , the wind was , if anything , stronger than ever and the seaward view from his bedroom window was a picture of frothing gray and white , of flying spray and leaping waves , and on the landward side the pines were bending and threshing as if they were being torn in pieces . He came downstairs , somewhat nervous and a trifle excited , to find Mr. Bloomer , garbed in oilskins and sou ` wester , standing upon the mat just inside the dining room door . Zacheus , it developed , had come over to borrow some coffee , the supply at the light having run short .