e
observer, who became more and more amazed at his behaviour, and felt
an increased desire to solve the enigma. The bazaar was now about to
close; lamps were here and there extinguished, every body was
preparing to depart. Returning into the street, the old man looked
anxiously around him for an instant, and then with incredible
swiftness, threaded a number of narrow and intricate lanes which led
him out in front of one of the principal theatres. The amusements were
just concluded, and the audience was streaming from the doors. The old
man was seen to gasp as he threw himself into the crowd, and then the
intense agony of his countenance seemed in some measure to abate. He
took the course which was pursued by the greater number of the
company. But these, as he proceeded, branched of right and left to
their several homes, and as the street became vacant, his restlessness
and vacillation re-appeared. Seized at length as with panic, he
hurried on with every mark of agitation, until he had plunged into one
of the most noisome and pestilential quarters, or rather suburbs of
the town. Here a number of the most abandoned of the populace were
reeling to and fro.

"The spirits of the old man," the author shall conclude the story in
his own words, "again flickered up, as a lamp which is near its death
hour. Once more, he strode onward with elastic tread. Suddenly a
corner was turned, a blaze of light burst upon our sight, and we stood
before one of the huge, suburban temples of intemperance--one of the
palaces of the fiend, Gin.

"It was near day-break; but a number of wretched inebriates still
pressed in and out of the flaunting entrance. With a half shriek of
joy, the old man forced a passage within, resumed at once his original
bearing, and stalked backward and forward, without apparent object
among the throng. He had not been thus long occupied, however, before
a rush to the doors gave token that the host was closing them for the
night. It was something even more intense than despair that I then
observed upon the countenance of the singular being I had watched so
pertinaciously. Yet he did not hesitate in his career, but, with a mad
energy, retraced his steps at once to the heart of the mighty London.
Long and swiftly he fled, while I followed him in the wildest
amazement, resolute not to abandon a scrutiny in which I now felt an
interest all-absorbing. The sun arose while we proceeded, and when we
had once again reached th