Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1889-10-23
THE MADDING CROWD.
HOW 1T "HURRIES ALONG, WITH
SORROW AND SONG"

Velvet and Rags, Virtue and Vice, Cold
ness and Pity Commingled in the Kaleid.
oscope OF tho City's Street-'Wanderins
Like Children in the Dark
Have you ever watched crowded street
| in great city and seen the surge of human.
ity drift to and fro1
1t is pleasant sight to mark the figures
come and go in one ceaseless current, each
with separate aims and interests but CON
nected by an inseparabls bond of sympathy
and dependence. Like strand Of many col
ored beads, the brilliant and gold are wedged
close against the somber and black, and all
held together by the little silken thread of
| humanity. Or similar to an immense piece
of human tapestry, where the shuttle of fate
has woven a million different tints Deer
shadows and high lights stand in bold relief,
with here and there a fash of crimson and
purple, but through all is tangled the JET
black thread that destiny loves to weave in
every phase Of life As you watch this sea
OF moving, swarming beings there you will
recognize Incidence and labor, piety and sin,
avarice and charity, all drifting with the
current.
THE JET BLACK THREADS.
See the gorgeous equipage of the million
alre, it rolls amid the throng and casts clouds
of dust in the face of the stalwart man of la
Dor, who, with iron muscle and horny hand,
hurries on to toll. These two men, so far re-
moved by social bars, are yet dependent one
on the other. 1t is the strength and muscle
Of that brawny workingman that holds, At
las like, on his shoulders, the girders and pill
lars of the social structure. Should he with
draw his power soon would the carvings and
ceilings and capitols Of the structure totter
and fall. Truly 1t has been said: mo man
hveth unto himself. or dieth unto himself
And there see amongst this madding crowd
the priest. He moves his lips in silent prayer,
while beneath his sanity cowl is pressed the
rosary and the crucifix He is seemingly
oblivious Of the multitude about him, until
aroused from his devotions by the man of
vice who II kessly jostles past him. He who
stakes wealth, honor and even his own soul
on the chance that lies in the upturning of
the cards that lie as11close to his heart as does
the crucifiX to the breast of the priest.
Spades, diamonds, hearts and clubs form the
four links that wedge the letters Of bondage
and bind his soul mrevocably with LAGOON
serpents, whose folds uncoil to plunge him
into eternal ruin; yet the man Of God and
the sinner drift down this life channel side
by side.
In this kaleidoscope scene a negative tint
appears. All! there it is: the man of social
bondage. He who is the willing sacrifice
offered on the fashion pyre; he who SO gener-
ously offers himself to all demands that fash
ion requires. He sways YEARLY; he smiles
simperingly; he iisps amiably. He makes
softening tint in the rugged things about him,
floating harmlessly on his way like a Whit of
thistle down
With bending form and haggard face, a
beggar plies his way. A bony arm, with
outstratched palm, asks for aims. He offers
a blessing for the woman Of wealth who
tosses him coin, as she gather her skirts
aside less they touch the poor wretch who
crawls through the same life current with
her
1t Is this unutterably dreary existence that
weaves the jet black threads through this
piece OF human tapestry.
CRUSHED vlOLETs AND ROSES
There is the man of traffic Watch his
steady, keen eye, and compressed lips His
mind is conferred On the problem of finance
On he goes, to build higher the golden calf"
of his idolatry, at which he worships night
and day. Too absorbed is he to see beside
him weary little face or to heed the plant
i've cry, please, sir buy my flowers" In
his needless rush he does not know that he has
dashed to the pavement the wealth of the
child, and his heavy tread has crushed to
atoms the violets and the roses wet with the
orphans tears. All, no! poor ignorant man,
he goes on, like so many in Efe's thorough
fare, with hardened and corroded hearts;
maulmon loving and mammon serving, with
the holiest emotions shattered, Just as were
the flowers of the child But soon LIES fisful
fever ends, and he rests. A few spades of
clay. g wreath Of immortelles are given him,
while his golden calf" is anatoulically dis
sected and divided between clamor and dis
sension.
How well 1t is that there is woven in the
web and woof Of life a bit of mirth and Joy.
Amid this hurrying tramp of the ebbing
crowd the starry eyed Italian, with his scar
let clad monkey, arrests the stern and the
grave, who smile at the monkeys supple gyra-
tions and the dissonaut grinding of the organ.
Like q gull on the waves, see that pure
young girl, spotless and unconscious as the
lily that blooms on the death brink of mi
asnic swamp, she moves and knows not that
DO0iSAo ASA ha0uiS. III Suu0NS aCtLcy tuc "
of vice and sin.
Amid the throng a self contented idiot
plays all day on a broken flute, with tin
cup, for his earnings Just as happy is he
IN his imaginary vision, as the politician IS
who passes him. His brain Is cool and his
bearing polished His mind is directed to
the usages OF men, and Ia his mental grasp !
he plays upon a thousand springs and wires |
that keep the political machinery in motion |
But be IS never too absorbed in thought to |
bcstow his stereotyped smile and marionette |
bow upon his dear people"
And on moves the throng Energy and in |
dolence, grief and hope opulence end penury |
all in the same oeassless current
All struggling, fearing 70 lie down and |
rest, lest they form a pavement over which |
Will pass other mems cars OF triumph
Watch this madding. hurryins scene and |
you will think with Reine, that life is like /
children lost n the dark, wandering on .hey /
know not wheser
But ever goes the ceaseless tranp-iike a |
dull tattoo beating on, on .-Geine Orchard |
in Atlanta American
CRANFORD-GRASD-
\ -s-- l. N. CRAWFORD, Manager |