They have stood and hammered away all day. Their feet are weary. They
are exhausted with the tug of work. They are mostly cheerful. With
appetites sharpened on the swift turner's wheel and the carpenter's
whetstone, they seek the evening meal. The clerks, too, have broken
away from the counter, and with brain weary of the long line of
figures, and the whims of those who go a-shopping, seek the face of
mother, or wife and child. The merchants are unharnessing themselves
from their anxieties, on their way up the street. The boys that lock
up are heaving away at the shutters, shoving the heavy bolts, and
taking a last look at the fire to see that all is safe. The streets
are thronged with young men, setting out from the great centres of
bargain-making.
Let idlers clear the street, and give right of way to the besweated
artisans and merchants! They have _earned_ their bread, and are now on
their way home to get it.
The lights in full jet hang over ten thousand evening repasts--the
parents at either end of the table, the children between.
Pages:
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61