It was a very dubious-looking, nay, a very dark and dismal night,
bitingly cold and cheerless. I knew no one in the place.
With anxious grapnels I had sounded my pocket, and only brought up a few
pieces of silver,--So, wherever you go, Ishmael, said I to myself,
as I stood in the middle of a dreary street shouldering my bag,
and comparing the gloom towards the north with the darkness towards
the south--wherever in your wisdom you may conclude to lodge
for the night, my dear Ishmael, be sure to inquire the price,
and don't be too particular.
With halting steps I paced the streets, and passed the sign of
"The Crossed Harpoons"--but it looked too expensive and jolly there.
Further on, from the bright red windows of the "Sword-Fish Inn,"
there came such fervent rays, that it seemed to have melted
the packed snow and ice from before the house, for everywhere
else the congealed frost lay ten inches thick in a hard,
asphaltic pavement,--rather weary for me, when I struck
my foot against the flinty projections, because from hard,
remorseless service the soles of my boots were in a most
miserable plight. Too expensive and jolly, again thought I,
pausing one moment to watch the broad glare in the street,
and hear the sounds of the tinkling glasses within.
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