I can’t tell anyone certain things about my life. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. Against the walls hung an assortment of staves, brown-bills, (weapons then borne by the watch,) muskets, handcuffs, great-coats, and lanterns. Now, do what you please. Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape.
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