She had been married that morning on the steamer, and buoyant with hfe, and hope, and gladness, she passed up those steps, followed by a train in which could be seen all the beauty and talent of the city. But those heartless old stairs never looked a whit the brighter for all the beauty and all the worth that trod them.
"Again: the rain came down in torrents; the night was of that pitchy darkness which is only known in climates such as this. The wind in gusts came slashing round the corners, driving the torrent like waves against the houses, when a man came crawling down those steps. He sat there for an hour. The rain poured down on his uncovered head, but he heeded it not; the wind tore open his ragged clothes, and wrestled with him, but he felt it not. With his face buried in his hands, he thought of the mother he had loved so tenderly, and the sister whom he had cherished; and of her, dearer far than either, to win whose hand he had first ventured to these shores. Were they happy? Were they even alive? He knew not, but he knew that he wanted bread, and had it not; and he knew that though those at home were poor, he could not reach them to rescue or suffer with them. The cold wind and the roaring rain beat on an hour more, and his seat was vacant! He had rushed into darkness, and the wave which closed over his head showed him no more pity than did those heartless old stairs which had witnessed the struggle of his soul!
"Let them go! Cover them up—pile on the sand! They have had too much to do with the misery of the world to be worth saving. What good has all the gold done which passed down them? Perhaps none. How many has it made happy? Perhaps not one. Pile on the sand!"
The winter of 1849-50 was very rainy, and the streets, devoid even of sidewalks, were in a horrible state. Mud and filth from six inches to six feet deep lay on all the principal thoroughfares, which one
