My Library

square in the face, side-ways, and all around him in the same blessed moment of time, no matter which way he headed; for a Boston snow-storm blows every way at once—here it is due north, around the corner it is south-east, behind you it is north-west; over the way it blows straight up, and in the middle of the street it blows straight down. “It was hard work travelling the four miles to my home that night, for every step had to be wearily footed. True, there were street cars, but no man in Boston ever remembers one going the right way when most it was wanted; but everybody can find scores coming, when everybody is bent upon going. “Well, after a perilous walk, I at last reached home, and gladly sat down to my comfortable supper of toast and tea in my snug little parlor— the same little parlor where I wrote my book and received the loan of money to publish it, which money I was afterwards deprived of by the financial acumen of as great a scoundrel as ever went loose upon the world. “Oh, how it stormed outside! and oh, how warm and cosy was the little snug harbor into which I had just moored myself! “It was the second cup of tea—orange pekoe it was, for I had bought it of a Chinaman in Boston, who knew all about tea—and the second slice of toast that I was discussing, along with