20. CHAPTER TWENTIETH.
“FI-ER!”
Ralph in the streets once more!
Barefoot, cold and hungry, he was skulking
in a narrow alley, which, gloomy at all times,
was now dark as midnight. Far overhead
some gleams of moonlight fell upon the icicles
along the roofs, but around the wandering outcast
all was dark, silent and dreary. He
pulled his cap over his matted hair, folded his
arms upon his tattered jacket, stood for a moment
upon one foot, and then upon the other,
but still could not banish the cold, which sent
a chill through his tired limbs.
“I should like to know where I'm to sleep
to-night — I would. If I go home, Stewel 'ill
ketch me. If I don't I'll freeze to death. It's
a toss-up between Potter's Field and Moyamensin'.”
Ralph gazed up and down the narrow
court; the shutters were closed, and not a
gleam of light, from an upper window, broke
the gloom of that desolate haunt.
“Where's Fan? I should like to see Fan.
Jimminey! Won't she start, when I tell her
to-morrow, how rich I am, and what a fortin'
I'm heir to! Cuss me, but I wish I had some
o' them bright pieces in my pocket jist now!
On'y to think of a man o' fortin' like me, not
havin' a crust to eat, nor so much as a cellar-door
to sleep on!”
Running up and down the snow-covered
pavement, Ralph endeavored to restore some
warmth to his chilled limbs, but in vain.
Stopping at last, in very despair, he sank upon
a wooden step, muttering as he clenched his
hands, this remarkable ejaculation:
“I wish the Old State House bell 'ud ring
— I do. If there was only the least touch of
a fire, the Fairy 'ud come out, and a feller 'ud
have a chance to warm hisself. But there
ain't no sich luck for me. There's lots o'
Carpenter shops a achein' to be burnt and
nobody to burn 'em.”
In the height of his chagrin, he dashed his
cap upon the pavement, at the same time uttering
an oath which it is not necessary to repeat.
“Wonder if day is ever a-goin' to come?
There's a fine pair o' feet to be froze — ain't
they? I rather expect, they'll find me in the
mornin' layin' along the pavement, froze all
over, into a perfec' chunk of ice. Then it 'ill
be put into the papers — `'Nother young vaggrant
froze hisself out o' spite.' Won't it?”
For a moment, reader, surround yourself
with the darkness and the cold of this narrow
alley, which diverges from the broad street,
like a by-path from a highway leading through
a lonely forest. Picture the outcast, crouching
on the wooden step, his naked feet upon the
pavement, his cheeks supported by his bony
hands. Then call to mind this solitary fact:
But for the crimes of Reuben Gatherwood and
Lemuel Gardiner — Doctor and Priest — this
savage of city life, would have been surrounded
with the light of education and religion.
Something like the echo of an approaching
footstep struck his ear. Ralph started up, and
listened intently, while his heart beat violently
against his ragged jacket.
“Is it a watchman? It can't be Stewel
— hello! There she goes! Ding — dong —
boom! The old State House forever! Now
for the Fairy!
These wild ejaculations, were produced by
a very simple circumstance.
Deep and echoing, the sound of the State
House bell, rolled over the silent city.
“F-i-e-r! F-i-e-r! F-i-e-r!” shouted Ralph
at the top of his lungs, as he ran along the
alley toward the neighboring street. “Give
way there boys! Let her drive! Wake her
up, Fairy — wake up I s-a-y!”
Before the third sound of the bell reaches
our ears, Ralph is gone.
Poor fellow! Little does he dream, what
singular events — events connected with his
own history — are now being heralded in every
tone of the State House bell!
