Superior Lodgings. AIRENCHESTER LAY breathless and haggard, smothered in dust, under the July sun. Gloomy notions preoccupied William Quillby, as in the heat he went along the main roads and observed amongst the drays and carts and fine carriages the rootless and forlorn. At length, as if sensing the motion of that human progress, he crossed into The Steps and peered about in shabby rookeries and viewed the crowded rooms, barren of furnishings or comforts. He made several notes in his crooked script. He was stared at sullenly: the sun had made too much of a cauldron of The Steps to rouse anyone to menace him. He had a strong piece for the Register in mind. Perhaps, he thought, a pamphlet. For it was strange that there were some wandering under the fevered sun who were formerly possessed of homes, occupations, dignity, and respect, and had them not now, while others yet preened themselves in their newly coined fortunes, and yet the one knew not where the others arise or what they might do.
