Decorah public opinion. (Decorah, Winneshiek County [Iowa]) 1895-1928, 1896-11-04
a BookkeePQr.

erS MS mouth with his mufner, DSnuS
down his head, and, thrusting his
hands into his coat pockets, he sets out
for the office, whistling on the way.
Without doubt, Il regular fog. Not
so very thick in the streets. because in
the heart of Paris. fog, like snow, does
not stay long, 1t is pierced and torn
by the many roofs, absorbed by the
walls and gradually loses itself in the
interior of dwellings, even when the
doors are open, making the stair slip
perry and the balusters moist. The
movement Of many vehicles and the
passing to and fro of the early crowd
driven out to work by the pressure of
poverty, cut it up, carry it away, dis
perse it, dropping it on the clothes of
the office boys, wetting the water
proofs of the shop girls and dimming
their thin, sleaZy wells.
But ut the docks, still silent and de-
serted, on the bridges. the shore and
the river, it is still dense, heavy
mist, Opaque. immovable. and the ris-
ing sun, behind the church OF Notre
Dame seems shining like night lamp
through furnished silver cover.
Despite the wind and the mist, our
good man follows the docks He could
easily take another road TO reach his
office, but the docks have mysterious
attraction for him. He seems to take
pleasure in walking along the para
pets, in grazing the stone balusters
bearing the elbow marks of loungers.
AT that hour and in such weather
the lOungers are few-only here and
there do we see woman carrying a
basket of clothes leaning against the
parapet, or some poor wretch resting
upon his elbows and gazing into the
water with weary look. Our good
man regards them little closely--the
water is SO conveniently near-and
there seems to be i'm his mind some
strange connecting thought as he looks
at them and the river. The river is
not cheerful this morning; the fog,
mounting between its waves, seems to
deaden the surface. The black roofs
on the shore, with pipes jutting out
unevenly from the chin.neys give a
dim reflection of fog and smoke. Our
good man does OF seem To find this at
all melancholy. He is thoroughly
drenchcd with the driZzle, but he
plodS OF. with pleasant smile at the
corner of his mouth.
Long, long ago he became accuS-
toned to these foggy mornings On the
Seine. Besides, he knows that little
distance farther on, ut his office, he
will find snug, well lined foot-warm-
er, a good fire in his stove and warm
plate for his breakfast. These are the
joys of booklseeper-a prison-like
happiness known only to the poor,
stunted creatures whose lives are
passed in dark corners.
Il must not forget to buy some APP
PIES" says our good man to himself
from time To time. And he whistles
and hastens along. You have rarely
seen one hurry to his work more cheer
fully.
Docks, and stin nothing but DOCKS
finally bridge. and we are behind the
Notre Dame. Here the fog is much
more intense. 1t. comes from three
points at once. almost blots out the
high towers of the church and gathers
in a thick mass at the angles of the
bridge, as If striving to conceal some
thing.
Our good man stops. He is at his
place OF work. Dimly in the dark
shadows we can distinguish some
forms on the sidewalk, bending over
us, as if waiting for some one. And,
much like the vendors at the hospital
gates and public squares, they have
large fiat baskets filled with oranges,
apples and crackers.
All, the beautiful apples, fresh and
rosy in the mist!
Our good man fills his pockets, smil-
ing at the applewoman, who shivers
with the cold, though her feet are en-
sased in foot-warmer. Then he
pushes through the fog and touches
door, opens it and crosses a small
court, where Il cart is standing, with
the horse harnessed.
lis there anything for us this morn
ing" he asks as he passes along.
Yes, sir; and something very gen.
teel, too"
Then he quickly enters his office. 1t
is very warm and comfortable there;
the stove crackles in the corner, the
foot-warmer is in it's place, and his
armchair is waiting for him close up
to the window in a good light.
The fog makes a mellow curtain over
the window panes, giving mild and
uniform light. Big ledgers with green
backs are ranged IN order on their
shelves. One would say a notary's
Office and study.
Our good man breathes at ease He
is at home. Before beginning his work
he opens a large closet, takes out a
pair of heavy silk sleeves, which he
draws on carefully; also Il little red
plate and some pieces of sugar. He
then peels his apples with an air Of
satisfaction. The fact is, one could
hardly find more cheerful little office.
better lighted or arranged in such good
order But, singularly enough. one
hears the noise of water everywhere;
it surrounds you. envelopes you, very
much as if you were in the cabin of u
steamer.
Below you the Seine rolls and tum-
bles at the arches of the bridge, making
heaps of foam at this point. always
clogged by floating debris. Even i'm
the house itself, all around the office.
there is noise of trickling water.
1 know not why, but the sound makes
you shiver. 1T drops upon hard
surface and, rebounding, falls upon a
broad stone table. There are marble
tables which make 1t seem still more
cold.
What do they wash at this strange
laundry? What ineffaceable stain? At
times, when the trickling and pattering
cease. down below we hear the sound
of solitary drops of water, one by one,
like snow in thaw, or the beginning