"Admirable! And when shall we proceed to business?"
"Now—this very hour—we cannot wish a darker night; and the sooner we carry our design into effect the better."
"Very true, for Shakspeare says, that
| 'Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream.' |
We will dream as little upon it as possible."
"Allons donc! Take your billets, and let us march."
We sallied forth into the street. It was about nine o'clock, and all was quiet. The light from Crop's window shone brightly in the distance, and invited us to our revenge.
The heavy falls of snow are a serious inconvenience in the narrow streets of Montreal, and the manner in which it is disposed of, gives to them a peculiar appearance. When a storm subsides, the whole town is alive with the business of shovelling the snow from the side-walks into the middle of the street, which in the course of a few weeks after the winter sets in, is elevated several feet above its natural level. On the top of this ridge vehicles of all descriptions are forced to pass, and while guiding a cariole along the height, you nod to your pedestrian friends on the side-walks, many feet below you, and peep, if you have any curiosity, into the windows of your neighbor's second story. By gradual packing and freezing, this high-road becomes a complete rampart of ice, along which carioles and traineaus are driven with alarming velocity—to a strange eye presenting the constant prospect of their being hurled down to the side-walk. But such accidents seldom happen. In their own awkward fashion, the Canadian drivers are uncommonly expert, and their hardy little horses are equally so.
We kept the side-walk until we reached the corner of St. Nicholas and St. Paul streets, and here we stopped to confer.