Mighty question! it is vast and dark as the night to him. He cannot
answer it; can you?
Vast and dark and pitiless is the night. But the morning will surely
come; and after all the wrongs and tumults of life will rise the dawn of
the Day of God. And then every question of fate, though it fill the
universe for you now, shall dissolve in the brightness like a vapor, and
vanish like a little cloud.
Meanwhile a servant comes out and drives Fessenden's away from the
fence. He recommenced his wanderings,--up one street and down another,
in search of a place to lay his head. The inferior dwellings he passed
by. But when he arrived at a particularly fine one, there he rang. Was
it not natural for him to infer that the largest houses had amplest
accommodations, and that the rich could best afford to be bounteous? If
in all these spacious mansions there was no little nook for him, if out
of their luxuries not a blanket or crust could be spared, what could he
hope from the poor? You see, he was not altogether witless, if he was
a--Fessenden's. Another proof: At whatever house he applied, he never
committed the vulgarity of a _detour_ to the back-entrance, but advanced
straight, with bold and confident port, to the front-door.
Pages:
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115