The Opelousas courier., 1890-07-05

blocked streams, foot and wheel and
hoof, back and swell Upon the pavement,
seeking outlet. The minutes pass In
clanor and seeming confusion. YOU think
it hopeless for your coachman to attempt
his way. But, at last, from some point
unseen by you in the darkness, the word
is given. the food divides. as the waters
divided of old, and in a triee your
vehicle plunges in the downward current,
spins down the slope, and rattles on the
bridge.
Strong nerves and arms and quick
eyes every driver must have to guide his
freight, living CT inanimate, along these
dangerous rapids. Three or four streams
Of vehicles plunge side by side, their
hubs almost touching. At the widest
space there are half a dozen lines, solid,
swiftly moving in the same direction. At
the bridge the pace slackens, and, by
some miracle, order reigns. Over the
bridge the tide pours. The weight of
it is enormous, the strength incalculable.
The roadway is packed. There is
scarcely an inch between a horses nose
and the tailboard of the wagon in front
Of him or between the wheels that rumble
side by side. The sidewalks, too, are
crammed with a desperate rush of men
and boys. Women you see here and
there, or they are suggested by bonnets
or bits of color in the compact black
mass. If every mans life depended on
the issue the rush could not be swifter.
Yet no individual can mend his pace or
slacken it. The current carries every
atom with it. Suburban London is re-
ceiving its mighty accession of life.
Across the bridge trains are waiting
| and starting, tram cars are pulled away
| with their weary loads, and buses are
picking up the throngs. But it would
seem that all the omnibuses in London
were rolling upon the bridge from the
city. Is it possible that elsewhere in
London any ~trollies and drays and vans
are left? Are there not tens of hundreds
running in this tide? There is the
wonder of 1.-THE wonder of this ever
wonderful London. This mighty food
of life and life's impedimenta is but one
of a thousand foods pouring outward
from the metropolis to-night-every
night.
There is river, rushing beneath the
granite blocks which support the living
food. Lights CLEAN upon it here and
there, revealing it cold and black and
relentless, as other lights, ftfully stray.
ing, show this upper river of life to be.
Down there, indistinctly in the darkness,
crowds of shapeless craft are borne along
here a light, there a splash, then
crash, and always the hoarse cries of thu
waterman, plotting their cumbrous yes
sells through the floating maze. Wha
London Bridge is to the land traffic tn
! ssPool" is to the water traffic. A viii
derness of vessels floats there upon tn
dingy tide-vessels from every cline ant
every port, steamers and sailing craft
clippers and clumsy luggers, wberrie'
and fishing boats, and the typica
Thames barges. There they lie, rubbing
sides, packed in the stream as the mel
and the wagons are packed upon tn
bridge. How they go up and down ant
resolve their various and respective
courses, picking their way in the fores'
of hulIs and masts, big and little, pass
eth the comprehension of a landsman
But how do the landsmen extricate them
selves from the turbulent current tina
plunges over London Bridget someho,
the flood is distributed at the bridge
! end. Another whirl is there, and ther
are countless cross currents and outlets
Somehow the atoms in the stream ser
arate and find their ways-homel An
; in the morning the tide PUSHES bac
again, r~epeopling the deserted city. An
; the morning food is as fierce an
! violent as the evening ebb. The strear
> rushes and roars back again over tn
granite yiaduct. It is a race for life
for the work that gives men their rigt
to live.