Our hero held on firmly to the railing, and peered keenly into the darkness, without discovering any object on which his vision could rest. The gloom was substantial. It required sharper eyes than his to bore a hole in it. The wind was up, and the storm continued to coat the steps and pavements with a sheet of ice. “It’s raining friz potatoes,” observed Linkum; “I feel ’em, though I can’t see ’em, bumping the end of my nose; so I must hurry home as fast as I can.” Heedless and hapless youth! He made a vain attempt to descend, but, slipping, he came in a sitting posture upon the top step, and, in that attitude, flew down like lightning—bump! bump! bump! The impetus he had acquired prevented him from stopping on the sidewalk, notwithstanding his convulsive efforts to clutch the icy bricks, and he _skuted_ into the gutter, whizzing over the curbstone, and splashing into the water, like a young Niagara. A deep silence ensued, broken solely by the pattering of the rain and the bowling of the wind. Linkum was an exhausted receiver; the hyst was perfect, the breath being completely knocked out of him. “Laws-a-massy!” at length he panted, “ketching” breath at intervals, and twisting about as if in pain; “my eyes! sich a hyst! Sich a quantity of hysts all in one! The life’s almost bumped out of me, and I’m jammed up so tight, I don’t believe I’m so tall by six inches as I was before. I’m druv up and clinched, and I’ll have to get tucks in my trousers.” Linkum sat still, ruminating on the curtailment of his fair proportions, and made no effort to rise. The door soon opened again, and Mr. Broad Brevis came forth, at which a low, suppressed chuckle was uttered by Linkum, as he looked over his shoulder, anticipating “a quantity of hysts all in one” for the new-comer, whose figure, however—short and stout—was much better calculated for the operation than Linkum’s. But Brevis seemed to suspect that the sliding was good, and the skating magnificent. “No, you don’t!” quoth he, as he tried the step with one foot, and recovered himself; “I haven’t seen the Alleghany Portage and inclined planes for nothing. It takes me to diminish the friction, and save the wear and tear.” So saying, he quietly tucked up his coat-tails, and sitting down upon the mat, which he grasped with both hands, gave himself a gentle impulse, crying “All aboard!” and slid slowly but majestically down. As he came to the plain sailing across the pavement, he twanged forth “Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-tra-a-a!” in excellent imitation of the post-horn, and brought up against Linkum. “Clear the course for the express mail, or I’ll report you to the department!” roared Brevis, trumpeting the “alarum,” so well known to all who have seen a tragedy—“Tra-tretra-ta-ra-tra-a-a!”