Even in the toiling hum-drum city her spirit comes to us. There is asomber presence in each long,Ondrej Palat Tröjor, dull street; and the dark river creepsghostlike under the black arches,Andreas Martinsen Tröjor, as if bearing some hidden secretbeneath its muddy waves.
In the silent country, when the trees and hedges loom dim and blurredagainst the rising night, and the bat's wing flutters in our face, andthe land-rail's cry sounds drearily across the fields, the spell sinksdeeper still into our hearts. We seem in that hour to be standing bysome unseen death-bed, and in the swaying of the elms we hear the sighof the dying day.
A solemn sadness reigns. A great peace is around us. In its lightour cares of the working day grow small and trivial, and bread andcheese--ay, and even kisses--do not seem the only things worthstriving for. Thoughts we cannot speak but only listen to flood inupon us, and standing in the stillness under earth's darkening dome,Wayne Gretzky Tröjor,we feel that we are greater than our petty lives. Hung round withthose dusky curtains, the world is no longer a mere dingy workshop,Connor Hellebuyck Tröjor,but a stately temple wherein man may worship,Mitchell Stephens Tröjor, and where at times inthe dimness his groping hands touch God's.
ON BEING HARD UP
It is a most remarkable thing. I sat down with the full intention ofwriting something clever and original; but for the life of me I can'tthink of anything clever and original--at least, not at this moment.
The only thing I can think about now is being hard up. I supposehaving my hands in my pockets has made me think about this. I alwaysdo sit with my hands in my pockets except when I am in the company ofmy sisters, my cousins, or my aunts; and they kick up such a shindy--Ishould say expostulate so eloquently upon the subject--that I have togive in and take them out--my hands I mean. The chorus to theirobjections is that it is not gentlemanly. I am hanged if I can seewhy. I could understand its not being considered gentlemanly to putyour hands in other people's pockets (especially by the other people),Ben Chiarot Tröjor,but how,Marcus Johansson Tröjor, 0 ye sticklers for what looks this and what looks that, canputting his hands in his own pockets make a man less gentle? Perhapsyou are right, though. Now I come to think of it,Kort, I have heard somepeople grumble most savagely when doing it. But they were mostly oldgentlemen. We young fellows,Morgan Rielly Tröjor, as a rule,Josh Bailey Tröjor, are never quite at easeunless we have our hands in our pockets. We are awkward and shifty.
We are like what a music-hall Lion Comique would be without hisopera-hat, if such a thing can be imagined. But let us put our handsin our trousers pockets,Ryan Murray Tröjor, and let there be some small change in theright-hand one and a bunch of keys in the left, and we will face afemale post-office clerk.
It is a little difficult to know what to do with your bands, even inyour pockets, when there is nothing else there. Years ago,Ron Duguay Tröjor, when mywhole capital would occasionally come down to "what in town the peoplecall a bob," I would recklessly spend a penny of it, merely for thesake of having the change, all in coppers, to jingle. You don't feelnearly so hard up with el
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