seemed to be something about the glimmer of sunshine as he saw it in
Mart's hair that kept him from halting before any of the places open to
him. What if she had come out with him to take a walk; he could not
have taken her into one of them! Then, poor fellow, he set himself to
wondering where the place was, open and warmed, to which he could take
Mart. There were places, several of them, in the large city; but Dirk
knew nothing about them, and he was acquainted with the saloons. He
thought of another thing; he had been invited to call at a house on East
Fifty-fifth Street. Suppose he should walk up there this very afternoon
and ring the bell, and say that he had come to call! What would happen
then? Whereupon he laughed aloud. The fancy seemed to him so utterly
preposterous. The idea of _his_ making a call! The utter improbability of
his ever seeing the inside of one of the East Fifty-fifth Street mansions!

Still remained that hopeless question: What should he do with himself?
The sun was quite gone now, and a cold wind was blowing up freshly
from the north. It blew directly through Dirk's threadbare garments. He
turned suddenly and slipped inside one of the worst of the many saloons
which literally lined this end of the street. He had refused to go with
the boys to Poke's, an hour or two before, and this was several grades
below Poke's in decency! But it was growing dark, and he was cold.

There was one young man who saw him dash down those cellar stairs,
who stood still and looked at him, his face darkening the while with
discouragement. This, then, was all the afternoon's Sabbath-school had
accomplished for him. To be sure he was not disappointed at the result;
it was no more than he had expected; but it was so discouraging to be
an eye-witness to the degradation to which these young wretches had
fallen! Of course the young man was Alfred Ried, and he went home,
and was dreary, over all sorts of failures in Christian work, mission