The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-09-03

e%9T first he did not know what had awak- O ''' = 's'; .. :: ': .:::ts ::, '::: @..s.s
 from his mind he stared at the open win dow in amazement. He had been aroused by the silence. His watch had stopped but the sum- to his further surprise, had passed the meridian; yet no rumblng rush of the Second Avenue Elevated reached him. His first tangible thought was that the lu was an abnormal incident in the city's life But it lastedl It endured. Even when he leaned from his window he could hear nothing And he was within block of Broadway,
 Hurriedly dressing and disturbed by an emotion he could analyze he descended to the street and walked to Broadway He could see no moving life, not after turning into the main thoroughfare No stores were open no cars or vehicles ing. Nothing but mighty silence the like of which he had conceived of before. It was the abso- Mte quiet of eternal space, unrufed by breeze ors bird. The very sunlight felt dead. Bewildered, yet not fully able to appreciate this prototype of death he turned his course toward Madison Square He paused in front of the St. James Building to examine
 
 observe that the traces had been cut But why? And where were the driver and the horse? s. Fastening on he found the square as silent as the street source of wonder was found in the patches of tall grass and several mildewed newspa- pers, Bearing the date of yesterday He gazed stu pidly at the grass and then stumbled to the small building in the center of the square and slumped down on the steps He would wait until some passed that way Two hours went by and he was as much alone as No sound, moving ob of sentinels in a cemetery
 ssAt last he remembered he had eaten nothing that day, and as one in trance he made his way to the nearest hostelry. It silent and through the open doors looked empty. He entered the cafe and cur- ously contemplated silver coins the bar beside overturned glass. Now tinidy, he slowly became aware he was wandering alone in the rpidstsof some awful metamorphoss, he tip-toed through room after room on the ground floor. On every side and at his feet was disorder, if the guests had departed in great haste Clothing and hand-haggage were scattered thickly about. while tables were ciuttered with remnants of interrupted feasting He rubbed his head with both hands and threw away his hat. Then, wildeyed, stretched his arms to the silent walls and cried, "God"
 The sound of his voice had peculiarly terfi- flying effect. It not only echoed and re-echoed throughout the building, bat it seemed to find the open, and sweep in strained whisper through every street and alley. He not speak aloud again, he told himself, and he pressed his hand against his side to still the dull thud, thad of his pumping heart
 But what did he fear? What was the danger his inner self told him dread and avoid? It could be physical presence as he had inclination to appropriate loaded revolver at his feet. Yet there was something; something that had caused luxury and poverty, youth and age, and the rotous and drunken. to flee the place Then faint hope stirred him; perhaps 1t only local and downtown there Eas conpanionship. There was no smoke or noise to support this suggestion, however.
 But the shadows of the deserted hotel oppressed h.m, and rushing sof-footed the buffet he picked ep loaf of bread and some cheese and bottle of beer and hurried to the street In dull way he was Surprised to find the bread SO dry and the beer so Farm and fiat; yet he little he a-aved south 2