The whip snapped, the wheels whirled round, and we passed through
the lighted streets with almost incredible speed. I ventured to make
an inquiry, and the reply was,
"You are doing a good deed. My name is Jotham Jenks. Ask no
questions now."
Thus was a veto put upon the movements of my tongue for the time
being. I, however, recognized the voice of Mr. Jenks; and though I
knew but little respecting him, I judged from his appearance that he
was a quiet, unoffending man; and such I afterwards found him.
For thirty minutes the horses raced along, causing the water, ice
and snow, to take to themselves wings and fly upon pedestrians,
windows, and sundry other animate and inanimate objects of creation.
For myself, I began to experience some misgiving, for thus exposing
myself to what, I did not know.
At length the carriage turned down a dark, narrow street, leading to
one of the wharves, upon which we finally found ourselves. The
driver jumped from his seat, opened the carriage-door, threw down
the steps, and we got out.
Matters had reached a crisis. Was I to be thrown into the water? The
assurance of my companion that I was doing a good deed seemed to
disfavor this supposition, as what possible good could that do
myself or any one else? Yet, for what was I taken from a warm room,
on such a cold, dismal, dark night, and hurried to the wharf?
"Now," said I to the stranger, "I must know the meaning of all
this,--the why and the wherefore.
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