Pshaw！ I will linger not another instant at arm’s lengthfrom these dim terrors， which grow more obscurelyformidable， the longer I delay to grapple with them. Nowfor the onset！ And to！ with little damage， save a dash ofrain in the fact and breast， a splash of mud high up thepantaloons， and the left boot full of ice-cold water， beholdme at the corner of the street. The lamp throws down acircle of red light around me； and twinkling onward fromcorner to corner， I discern other beacons marshalling myway to a brighter scene. But this is alone some and drearyspot. The tall edifices bid gloomy defiance to the storm，with their blinds all closed， even as a man winks when hefaces a spattering gust. How loudly tinkles the collectedrain down the tin spouts！ The puffs of wind are boisterous，and seem to assail me from various quarters at once. I haveoften observed that this corner is a haunt and loiteringplacefor those winds which have no work to do upon thedeep， dashing ships against our iron-bound shores； nor inthe forest， tearing up the sylvan giants with half a roodof soil at their vast roots. Here they amuse themselveswith lesser freaks of mischief. See， at this moment，how they assail yonder poor woman， who is passing justwithin the verge of the lamplight！ One blast struggles forher umbrella， and turns it wrong side outward； anotherwhisks the cape of her cloak across her eyes； while a thirdtakes most unwarrantable liberties with the lower partof her attire. Happily， the good dame is no gossamer， buta figure of rotundity and fleshly substance； else wouldthese aerial tormentors whirl her aloft， like a witch upona broomstick， and set her down， doubtless， in the filthiestkennel hereabout.
From hence I tread upon firm pavements into thecentre of the town. Here there is almost as brilliant anillumination as when some great victory has been won，either on the battle-field or at the polls. Two rows ofshops， with windows down nearly to the ground， casta glow from side to side， while the black night hangsoverhead like a canopy， and thus keeps the splendor fromdiffusing itself away. The wet sidewalks gleam with abroad sheet of red light. The rain-drops glitter， as if thesky were pouring down rubies. The spouts gush with fire.
Methinks the scene is an emblem of the deceptive glare，which mortals throw around their footsteps in the moralworld， thus bedazzling themselves， till they forget theimpenetrable obscurity that hems them in， and that canbe dispelled only by radiance from above. And after all，it is a cheerless scene， and cheerless are the wanderers init. Here comes one who has so long been familiar withtempestuous weather that he takes the bluster of thestorm for a friendly greeting， as if it should say， “How fareye， brother？” He is a retired sea-captain， wrapped in somenameless garment of the pea-jacket order， and is nowlaying his course towards the Marine Insurance Office，there to spin yarns of gale and shipwreck， with a crewof old seadogs like himself. The blast will put in its wordamong their hoarse voices， and be understood by all ofthem. Next I meet an unhappy slipshod gentleman， with acloak flung hastily over his shoulders， running a race withboisterous winds， and striving to glide between the dropsof rain. Some domestic emergency or other has blownthis miserable man from his warm fireside in quest of adoctor！ See that little vagabond， —how carelessly he hastaken his stand right underneath a spout， while staring atsome object of curiosity in a shop-window！ Surely the rainis his native element； he must have fallen with it from theclouds， as frogs are supposed to do.
