It is their custom, and
the American habit of nodding to friends is held to be evidence of
backwoods' manners excusable only in a people so new. In the deep
recesses of the Domkirke dark shadows are gathering. The tower clock
peals forth. At the last stroke the watchman lifts up his chant in
a voice that comes quavering down from bygone ages:--
[Illustration: Music]
Ho, watchman! heard ye the clock strike ten? This
hour is worth the know--ing Ye house-holds high and
low, The time is here and go--ing When ye to bed should
go; Ask God to guard, and say A--men! Be
quick and bright, Watch fire and light, our clock just now struck ten.
I shall take his advice. But first I must go to the shoe-store to
get a box of polish for my russet shoes. Unexpectedly I found it
for sale there. I strike the storekeeper in an ungracious mood. He
objects to being bothered about business just when he is shutting
up shop.
"There," he says, handing me the desired box. "Only one more left;
I shall presently have to send for more. Twice already have I been
put to that trouble.
Pages:
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451