Steamburg, barber, on Thursday night. While crossing the Common to his
home, he was attacked by three men; one seized him by the throat and half
strangled him, another sealed his mouth with a gloved hand, and the third
abstracted his wallet, which contained about seventy-five dollars in
money."
This was from the "Courier" of that morning. New York had triumphed, and
Boston, with eyes snapping virulently, sought another portion of the car,
perhaps to hunt up his temper, which had been for some time on the point of
departure, and had now left him altogether.
Lorrimer took to himself great satisfaction, in a mild way, and laughed
inwardly at his opponent's discomfiture.
Presently, the vitalities of the locomotive having been restored, the train
rolled on, and Lorrimer took to calculating the chances of fulfilling his
appointment that evening. He at length abandoned the hope, and resigned
himself to the afflicting prospect of a solitary Sunday in a strange place.
At eight o'clock, P.M., the Boston station was achieved. Then followed, for
Mr. Lorrimer, the hotel, the supper, the vain search for Saturday-evening
amusements, and a discontented stroll in a wilderness of unfamiliar
streets, with spirits dampened by the dismal foggy weather.
He found the Common, and secretly admired, but longed for an opportunity to
vilify it to some ardent native. His point of attack would be, that it
furnished dangerous opportunities for crime, as illustrated in the case he
had recently been discussing.
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