I see the dawn of the millennium on the heights of Hoboken--yea, even out of the Jerseys shall a good thing come! It is I who tell you--it is I who order you--I, Everardus Bogardus, Dominie of New Amsterdam--ding, dong, bell, amen! The streets were quiet and deserted.

A single hack rattled under his window, and Arthur could hear its lessening sound until it was lost in the sweet clangor of the bells.

He lay in bed, and did not see the people in the street; but he heard the shuffling and the slouching, the dragging step and the bright, quick footfall.

There were gay bonnets and black hats already stirring--early worshippers at the mass at St.Peter's or St.Patrick's--but the great population of the city was at home.
Except, among the rest, a young man who comes hastily out of Thiel's, over Stewart's--a young man of flowing black hair and fiery black eyes, which look restlessly and furtively up and down Broadway, which seems to the young man odiously and unnaturally bright.

He gains the street with a bound.