On observing me on my feet, he betrayed marks of surprise and
satisfaction. He addressed me in a tone of mildness:--

"Young man," said he, "what is thy condition? Art thou sick? If thou
art, thou must consent to receive the best treatment which the times
will afford. These men will convey thee to the hospital at Bush Hill."

The mention of that contagious and abhorred receptacle inspired me with
some degree of energy. "No," said I, "I am not sick; a violent blow
reduced me to this situation. I shall presently recover strength enough
to leave this spot without assistance."

He looked at me with an incredulous but compassionate air:--"I fear thou
dost deceive thyself or me. The necessity of going to the hospital is
much to be regretted, but, on the whole, it is best. Perhaps, indeed,
thou hast kindred or friends who will take care of thee?"

"No," said I; "neither kindred nor friends. I am a stranger in the city.
I do not even know a single being."

"Alas!" returned the stranger, with a sigh, "thy state is sorrowful.
But how camest thou hither?" continued he, looking around him; "and
whence comest thou?"

"I came from the country. I reached the city a few hours ago. I was in
search of a friend who lived in this house."

"Thy undertaking was strangely hazardous and rash; but who is the friend
thou seekest? Was it he who died in that bed, and whose corpse has just
been removed?"