It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the
accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to
agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might
infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It
was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the
panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the
half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open;
it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.