Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol III, No 13, 1851Various
General
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol III, No 13, 1851
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
Between twenty and thirty persons had now collected; and I saw myself,
to my unspeakable shame and mortification, the centre of all their looks
and speculations. A little more _aplomb_ or knowledge of life would have
taught me coolness enough in a few words to undeceive them: but such a
task was far above me now; and I saw nothing for it but flight. Could I
only have known which way to take, I need not have feared any pursuer,
for I was a capital runner, and in high condition; but of the locality I
was utterly ignorant, and should only surrender myself to mere chance.
With a bold rush, then, I dashed right through the crowd, and set off
down the street, the whole crew after me. The dusk of the closing
evening was in my favor; and although volunteers were enlisted in the
chase at every corner and turning, I distanced them, and held on my way
in advance. My great object being not to turn on my course, lest I
should come back to my starting point, I directed my steps nearly
straight onward, clearing apple-stalls and fruit tables at a bound; and
more than once taking a flying leap over an Indian's fire, when the mad
shout of the red man would swell the chorus that followed me. At last I
reached a network of narrow lanes and alleys, by turning and winding
through which, I speedily found myself in a quiet secluded spot, with
here and there a flickering candle-light from the windows, but no other
sign of habitation. I looked anxiously about for an open door; but they
were all safe barred and fastened; and it was only on turning a corner I
spied what seemed to me a little shop, with a solitary lamp over the
entrance. A narrow canal, crossed by a rickety old bridge, led to this;
and the moment I had crossed over, I seized the single plank which
formed the footway, and shoved it into the stream. My retreat being thus
secured, I opened the door, and entered. It was a barber's shop; at
least, so a great chair before a cracked old looking glass, with some
well-worn combs and brushes, bespoke it; but the place seemed
untenanted, and although I called aloud several times, none came or
responded to my summons.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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