of composure. The evening had now advanced, and it behooved me to
procure accommodation at some of the inns.

These were easily distinguished by their _signs_, but many were without
inhabitants. At length I lighted upon one, the hall of which was open
and the windows lifted. After knocking for some time, a young girl
appeared, with many marks of distress. In answer to my question, she
answered that both her parents were sick, and that they could receive no
one. I inquired, in vain, for any other tavern at which strangers might
be accommodated. She knew of none such, and left me, on someone's
calling to her from above, in the midst of my embarrassment. After a
moment's pause, I returned, discomfited and perplexed, to the street.


I proceeded, in a considerable degree, at random. At length I reached a
spacious building in Fourth Street, which the signpost showed me to be
an inn. I knocked loudly and often at the door. At length a female
opened the window of the second story, and, in a tone of peevishness,
demanded what I wanted. I told her that I wanted lodging.

"Go hunt for it somewhere else," said she; "you'll find none here." I
began to expostulate; but she shut the window with quickness, and left
me to my own reflections.

I began now to feel some regret at the journey I had taken. Never, in
the depth of caverns or forests, was I equally conscious of loneliness.
I was surrounded by the habitations of men; but I was destitute of
associate or friend. I had money, but a horse-shelter, or a morsel of
food, could not be purchased. I came for the purpose of relieving
others, but stood in the utmost need myself. Even in health my condition