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A shabby excrescence of tent and hut swells Yerba Buena to a town. In a few months it leaps into a city's rank. Over the prairies, toward the sandy Humboldt, long emigrant trains are crawling toward the golden canyons of the Sierras. The restless blood of the Mexican War pours across the Gila deserts and the sandy wastes of the Colorado.
It is very strange to find so much of ancient quietude right in the monster city's very jaws, which yet the monster shall not eat up, right in its very belly, indeed, which yet, in all these ages, it shall not digest and convert into the same substance as the rest of its bustling streets.
Outside there was still a pink glow in a clean sky. The first flush of spring in the air had died, leaving chill. They walked briskly, arm in arm, down the asphalt incline of sidewalk leading from their apartment house, a new street of canned homes built on a hillside the sepulchral abode of the city's trapped whose only escape is down the fire-escape, and then only when the alternative is death.
Could Peter suggest to McGivney the name of a German Socialist who might be persuaded to approach this agent of the Kaiser, and get him to contribute money for the purpose of having a general strike called in American City? Several of the city's big manufacturing plants were being made over for war purposes, and obviously the enemy had much to gain by strikes and labor discontent.
If all the people who live in each city could be photographed exactly one over the other, the result would be the general expression of that city's face.
The electric car line, the city's boast, did a brisk business, its cars whirring from end to end of the street, with a jangling of bells and a moaning plaint of gearing. On the stone bulkheads of the grass plat around the new City Hall, the usual loafers sat, chewing tobacco, swapping stories. In the park were the inevitable array of nursemaids, skylarking couples, and ragged little boys.
A young man, a reporter on one of the city's great daily papers, leaped from a passing street car and came to stand near him. "What's up here? What's this going on? What's it all about? You better tell me," he said. In the dim light McGregor raised his fists above his head and talked aloud. "It's creeping in among them," he said. "The thing that can't be put into words is getting itself expressed.
There were five yoke of oxen attached to the cart, and as they were in fair condition and had not been worked for a few days, they took the load along the level road at a brisk walk; and it was not until we had got beyond the city's limits and left Melbourne in the distance, that the animals fell into their accustomed steady walk.
Well did he remember the heaped-up piles of fruit, the red pomegranate flowers, the din, the clamour, the tolling of bells in the Spanish city's great hive; but all was more charming at home, and Denmark was Jörgen's home. From thence they migrated to the north of Germany, where, according to Tacitus, they lived bout the period of the birth of Christ, and were a poor but brave people.
Consider that the summer day has ended and that you are tired with its rush and heat. Up you must climb to your house-roof. On the rim of the sky is the blurred light from the steel furnaces at the city's edge and, paneling this, stands a line of poplars stirring and sounding in the night wind. Alone upon the house-top to the North I turn and watch the lightnings in the sky.
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