It was a bracing November day, the dead leaves lay crisp and trodden
by the roadside, and the gray clouds flitted in their solemn silence
across the low-leaden sky, a light wind swayed the naked tree-tops,
and tinged the beaming faces of pedestrians with a healthy roseate
hue. This was a happy contrast to my cheerless mood, and with a
quickened step, I overtook the stream of gayer people that thronged
the lively thoroughfare, and gave myself wholly up to every passing
distraction.
I had no particular business to discharge, except to run away from
myself, and therefore every little peculiarity, every minute feature
of men, women, or things, that suggested themselves to my aimless
scrutiny were carefully reviewed and criticized. I went placidly on
now casting a passing glance on exhibitions of stale confectionery,
now on a display of attractive millinery, again it was a "ten cent"
establishment, offering such bargains as might puzzle the most
economical house-wife, and finally my attention was caught by a
succession of dazzling windows, with their bewildering panorama of
Japanese figures and coloured _bric-a-brac_, windows crowded with fans
and parasols, and variegated lamp-shades, oriental trays and
glove-boxes, pieces of ware, from whose dirty green surface emptily
peered the pale faces of native Japanese, there were whisk-holders,
and wall-baskets, and all sorts of ornaments trimmed in Japanese
fabrics, looking coaxingly out at the public.
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