Part 33

Notwithstanding his singular bedchamber, Paul had a refreshing night's sleep from which he did not awake till the sun had fairly risen, and its rays colored by the medium through which they were reflected, streamed in at the windows and rested in many fantastic lines on the richly carved pulpit and luxurious pews.

Paul sprang to his feet and looked around him in bewilderment.

“Where am I?” he exclaimed in astonishment.

In the momentary confusion of ideas which is apt to follow a sudden awakening, he could not remember where he was, or how he chanced to be there. But in a moment memory came to his aid, and he recalled the events of the preceding day, and saw that he must have been locked up in the church.

“How am I going to get out?” Paul asked himself in dismay.

This was the important question just now. He remembered that the village meeting-house which he had been accustomed to attend was rarely opened except on Sundays. What if this should be the case here? It was Thursday morning, and three days must elapse before his release. This would never do. He must seek some earlier mode of deliverance.

He went first to the windows, but found them so secured that it was impossible for him to get them open. He tried the doors, but found, as he had anticipated, that they were fast. His last resource failing, he was at liberty to follow the dictates of his curiosity.

Finding a small door partly open, he peeped within, and found a flight of steep stairs rising before him. They wound round and round, and seemed almost interminable. At length, after he had become almost weary of ascending, he came to a small window, out of which he looked. At his feet lay the numberless roofs of the city, while not far away his eye rested on thousands of masts. The river sparkled in the sun, and Paul, in spite of his concern, could not help enjoying the scene. The sound of horses and carriages moving along the great thoroughfare below came confusedly to his ears. He leaned forward to look down, but the distance was so much greater than he had thought, that he drew back in alarm.

“What shall I do?” Paul asked himself, rather frightened. “I wonder if I can stand going without food for three days? I suppose nobody would hear me if I should scream as loud as I could.”

Paul shouted, but there was so much noise in the streets that nobody probably heard him.

He descended the staircase, and once more found himself in the body of the church. He went up into the pulpit, but there seemed no hope of escape in that direction. There was a door leading out on one side, but this only led to a little room into which the minister retired before service.

It seemed rather odd to Paul to find himself the sole occupant of so large a building. He began to wonder whether it would not have been better for him to stay in the poorhouse, than come to New York to die of starvation.

Just at this moment Paul heard a key rattle in the outer door. Filled with new hope, he ran down the pulpit stairs and out into the porch, just in time to see the entrance of the sexton.

The sexton started in surprise as his eye fell upon Paul standing before him, with his bundle under his arm.

“Where did you come from, and how came you here?” he asked with some suspicion.

“I came in last night, and fell asleep.”

“So you passed the night here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What made you come in at all?” inquired the sexton, who knew enough of boys to be curious upon this point.

“I didn't know where else to go,” said Paul.

“Where do you live?”

Paul answered with perfect truth, “I don't live anywhere.”

“What! Have you no home?” asked the sexton in surprise.

Paul shook his head.

“Where should you have slept if you hadn't come in here?”

“I don't know, I'm sure.”

“And I suppose you don't know where you shall sleep to-night?”

Paul signified that he did not.