succeeds by walking in a circle until the door is before him. Then, with
his whole countenance charged with almost scowling intensity of purpose,
though finding it difficult to keep his eyes very far open, he balances
himself with the utmost care, throws his shoulders back, steps out
daringly, and goes off at an acute slant toward the Alderman again.
Recovering himself by a tremendous effort of will and a few wild
backward movements, he steps out jauntily once more, and can not stop
himself until he has gone twice around a chair on his extreme left and
reached almost exactly the point from which he started the first time.
He pauses, panting, but with the scowl of determination still more
intense, and concentrated chiefly in his right eye. Very cautiously
extending his dexter hand, that he may not destroy the nicety of his
perpendicular balance, he points with a finger at the knob of the door,
and suffers his stronger eye to fasten firmly upon the same object. A
moment's balancing, to make sure, and then, in three irresistible,
rushing strides, he goes through the glass doors with a burst, without
stopping to turn the latch, strikes an ash-box on the edge of the
sidewalk, rebounds to a lamp-post, and then, with the irresistible rush
still on him, describes a hasty wavy line, marked by irregular
heel-strokes, up the street.

That same afternoon, the modern American Ritualistic Spire rises in
duplicate illusion before the multiplying vision of a traveller recently
off the ferry-boat, who, as though not satisfied with the length of his
journey, makes frequent and unexpected trials of its width. The bells
are ringing for vesper service; and, having fairly made the right door
at last, after repeatedly shooting past and falling short of it, he
reaches his place in the choir and performs voluntaries and
involuntaries upon the organ, in a manner not distinguishable from
almost any fashionable church-music of the period.