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Updated: May 22, 2025
He sat still, it sounded far away and unimportant, like something forgotten. I think he did not even hear it with his conscious ear. But it rang and rang insistently. Jo liked to answer his telephone when at home. "Hello!" He knew instantly the voice at the other end. "That you, Jo?" it said. "Yes." "How's my boy?" "I'm all right." "Listen, Jo. The crowd's coming over to-night.
"Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness." Cowper. "Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife." -Gray. In 1844 I lived in a little cottage at South Yarra, on the Dandenong or Gardiner's Creek-road, then only a bush track, although considerably trodden. I had not many neighbours. Mr. Jackson, at the far end, had bought Toorak, but not yet built upon it; and the near end was graced by Mr.
Seth Craddock heaved up to his knees, struggled to his feet with quick, frantic lumbering, like a horse clambering out of the mire. He stood weaving, his red eyes watching those around him, perhaps reading something of the crowd's threat in the growl that ran through it, beginning in the center as it died on the edge, quieting not at all.
With a heart seared by flaming self-scorn, Mark turned and slunk away. He slid into the crowd's enveloping darkness as into a friendly shelter. He wanted to hide from them, crawl off unseen like the worm he was. This was the least violent term he applied to himself as he walked home, cursing under his breath, wondering if in the length and breadth of the land there lived a greater fool than he.
"But what was holding the crowd's breathless attention, was the daring attempt of a man on the eighth floor to save a child of some five or six years. "He had gotten from his room to a small iron balcony, and there he took his handkerchief and blindfolded the little boy.
That's why this crowd's so still. For the first time since the foundation of the government, the thousands banked in front of this platform really wish to hear what a President-elect has to say." "Isn't that a tremendous tribute to the man?" "Possibly so possibly not. He has been silent since his election. Not a word has fallen from his lips to indicate his policy.
You can't too soon make it a rule to invest only on your own know and never on somebody else's say so. You may lose some profits by this policy, but you're bound to miss a lot of losses. Often the best reason for keeping out of a thing is that everybody else is going into it. A crowd's always dangerous; it first pushes prices up beyond reason and then down below common sense.
I don't blame you; I'd like to go myself, if there's any chance to make money." "You're all right, boss!" shouted some one; and a general laugh attested the crowd's relief at this acceptance of the inevitable. They had expected argument, despite the contrary assurances they had received. "Now we all want an even break.
The spirit of fighting evil with good a kind of glorious self-will for goodness, for doing a thing the higher and nobler way and making it work, the spirit of successful implacably efficient righteousness is the last and most modern interpretation of the New Testament, the crowd's latest cry to its God. Crowds will always crucify and crosses will never go by.
It is socially destructive to throw away the overpowering instinct of human nature which we have called hero-worship. But it is not only socially destructive. It is dumb and helpless for crowds to try to get on without heroes. Big events and big men are crowd expressions. Heroes, World Fairs, and Titanic disasters are crowd words, the crowd's way of seeing and saying things.
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