I saw Jew pedlars, with hawk eyes flashing
      from countenances whose every other feature wore only an expression of
      abject humility; sturdy professional street beggars scowling upon
      mendicants of a better stamp, whom despair alone had driven forth into the
      night for charity; feeble and ghastly invalids, upon whom death had placed
      a sure hand, and who sidled and tottered through the mob, looking every
      one beseechingly in the face, as if in search of some chance consolation,
      some lost hope; modest young girls returning from long and late labor to a
      cheerless home, and shrinking more tearfully than indignantly from the
      glances of ruffians, whose direct contact, even, could not be avoided;
      women of the town of all kinds and of all ages—the unequivocal
      beauty in the prime of her womanhood, putting one in mind of the statue in
      Lucian, with the surface of Parian marble, and the interior filled with
      filth—the loathsome and utterly lost leper in rags—the
      wrinkled, bejewelled and paint-begrimed beldame, making a last effort at
      youth—the mere child of immature form, yet, from long association,
      an adept in the dreadful coquetries of her trade, and burning with a rabid
      ambition to be ranked the equal of her elders in vice; drunkards
      innumerable and indescribable—some in shreds and patches, reeling,
      inarticulate, with bruised visage and lack-lustre eyes—some in whole
      although filthy garments, with a slightly unsteady swagger, thick sensual
      lips, and hearty-looking rubicund faces—others clothed in materials
      which had once been good, and which even now were scrupulously well
      brushed—men who walked with a more than naturally firm and springy
      step, but whose countenances were fearfully pale, whose eyes hideously
      wild and red, and who clutched with quivering fingers, as they strode
      through the crowd, at every object which came within their reach; beside
      these, pie-men, porters, coal-heavers, sweeps; organ-grinders,
      monkey-exhibitors, and ballad mongers, those who vended with those who
      sang; ragged artizans and exhausted laborers of every description, and all
      full of a noisy and inordinate vivacity which jarred discordantly upon the
      ear, and gave an aching sensation to the eye. As the night deepened, so deepened to me the interest of the scene; for
      not only did the general character of the crowd materially alter (its
      gentler features retiring in the gradual withdrawal of the more orderly
      portion of the people, and its harsher ones coming out into bolder relief,
      as the late hour brought forth every species of infamy from its den,) but
      the rays of the gas-lamps, feeble at first in their struggle with the
      dying day, had now at length gained ascendancy, and threw over every thing
      a fitful and garish lustre. All was dark yet splendid—as that ebony
      to which has been likened the style of Tertullian. The wild effects of the light enchained me to an examination of individual
      faces; and although the rapidity with which the world of light flitted
      before the window, prevented me from casting more than a glance upon each
      visage, still it seemed that, in my then peculiar mental state, I could
      frequently read, even in that brief interval of a glance, the history of
      long years. With my brow to the glass, I was thus occupied in scrutinizing the mob,
      when suddenly there came into view a countenance (that of a decrepid old
      man, some sixty-five or seventy years of age,)—a countenance which
      at once arrested and absorbed my whole attention, on account of the
      absolute idiosyncrasy of its expression. Any thing even remotely
      resembling that expression I had never seen before. I well remember that
      my first thought, upon beholding it, was that Retzch, had he viewed it,
      would have greatly preferred it to his own pictural incarnations of the
      fiend. As I endeavored, during the brief minute of my original survey, to
      form some analysis of the meaning conveyed, there arose confusedly and
      paradoxically within my mind, the ideas of vast mental power, of caution,
      of penuriousness, of avarice, of coolness, of malice, of blood
      thirstiness, of triumph, of merriment, of excessive terror, of intense—of
      supreme despair. I felt singularly aroused, startled, fascinated. “How
      wild a history,” I said to myself, “is written within that bosom!” Then
      came a craving desire to keep the man in view—to know more of him. Hurriedly putting on an overcoat, and seizing my hat and cane, I made my
      way into the street, and pushed through the crowd in the direction which I
      had seen him take; for he had already disappeared. With some little
      difficulty I at length came within sight of him, approached, and followed
      him closely, yet cautiously, so as not to attract his attention. I had now a good opportunity of examining his person. He was short in
      stature, very thin, and apparently very feeble. His clothes, generally,
      were filthy and ragged; but as he came, now and then, within the strong
      glare of a lamp, I perceived that his linen, although dirty, was of
      beautiful texture; and my vision deceived me, or, through a rent in a
      closely-buttoned and evidently second-handed roquelaire which enveloped
      him, I caught a glimpse both of a diamond and of a dagger. These
      observations heightened my curiosity, and I resolved to follow the
      stranger whithersoever he should go. It was now fully night-fall, and a thick humid fog hung over the city,
      soon ending in a settled and heavy rain. This change of weather had an odd
      effect upon the crowd, the whole of which was at once put into new
      commotion, and overshadowed by a world of umbrellas. The waver, the
      jostle, and the hum increased in a tenfold degree. For my own part I did
      not much regard the rain—the lurking of an old fever in my system
      rendering the moisture somewhat too dangerously pleasant. Tying a
      handkerchief about my mouth, I kept on. For half an hour the old man held
      his way with difficulty along the great thoroughfare; and I here walked
      close at his elbow through fear of losing sight of him. Never once turning
      his head to look back, he did not observe me. By and by he passed into a
      cross street, which, although densely filled with people, was not quite so
      much thronged as the main one he had quitted. Here a change in his
      demeanor became evident. He walked more slowly and with less object than
      before—more hesitatingly. He crossed and re-crossed the way
      repeatedly without apparent aim; and the press was still so thick that, at
      every such movement, I was obliged to follow him closely.