Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-12-18

tied by the size, the indifference, the cease
less heave and tumult, of gigantic New York,
the city that, having been made by man,
now made and unmade him in an hour. The
huge device of stone and iron had received
her as the sea receives raindrop. She was
one of swarm of human beings, all blindly
working, working working, as bees seem to
work,-no one individual for himself alone,
but each for all, despite himself, to crafty
the law of existence.
1t was not to be escaped, cOmprehended,
or measured, this unrelentlng engine1y of
life. There seemed to be nothing, absolutely
nothing, she could do to lift herself apart.
She was simply submerged in the human
tide which must rise or fall with the mighty
laws that govern the cosrnic scheme -
SHE was sitting alone in Central Park, far
out on its western border, bordering all
her former dream of rising to some brilliant
eminence, on which to receive the tribute of
the world The day had been cool. A few
drops of rain had driven scores of park visit
ors back to their homes.
Thurley was weary enough, after four
miles of walk ng, to be glad of a rest on a
bench. During the first exciting weeks of her
metre oOlitan adventure she had sought, with
CONSPICUOUS success, to achieve an under
sta 1dlng of the ways to genuine usefulness in
directing tn work that Major Phipps was
nightly toiing to produce. She had like
wise been confident of bounding soon to
splendid things. She had won the Majors
approval, his gratitude and trust, from the
first of her employment. But she had found
force of clerks, and then her disillusionment
had presently begun.
The Major was her loyal friend, sincere
and earnest in his praise, and that was all.
She had neither expected nor desired social
equality or opening of the magical door
from the source of this association. She had
readily discovered fairly agreeable domi-
Gle; he wages were saving themselves. Al
together it appeared as e after all, the COM
monplace Fates had assam; / foster parent
hood to guard her on simple, modest way,
regardless of her dreams. A certain sort of
unitarian career seemed, in it's sphere, even
fair and promising; but then-there was
something that constantly gnawed at her
inmOst heart.
The one brief effort she had made to dis
cover cousin, Edith Steck by name, whom
she had vaguely known to be somewhere in
New York city, failed, and had never since
been renewed. She had thought at the time
that loneliness explained the sum total of
her cares. She knew at last it was not
that only but things that went deep as life
itself
She had purposely avoided proffered
friendships of the useless, modifying de-
scription. choosing to remain aloof from any
thing save mere acknowledgements of &C
quaintance with all her fellow workers and
the people of the house where she lived To-
day she wondered if it had paid. She almost
wished for any sort of friends, provided they
were honest and sincere
For fifteen minutes she scarcely stirred,
sitting there lost in meditation. To what
would it lead, this toll and hope, this ex-
cursion into the maelstrom of the town?
What might anyone, situated thus, achieve
at last, now that she was launched upon the
tide? A faint, mirthless smile crept slowly
to her lips, freshening the radiance of her
beauty. She shook her head, as if her know
ing self thus gently rebuked the self of
groundless dreams.
How beautiful was all the scene! This
was almost enough to require, the bright
green grass, with scattered leaves of YER
million and amber upon it, the gold and
garnet trees, the cool, sweet air, saturated
full of essences autumnal.
Idly she gazed across the park, then at a
squirrel frisking joyously by. Thus her
glance came presently to rest on small,
white object living on the grass, lust at the