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Updated: June 26, 2025
"If he had been attending to his business," he thought, angrily, "he would have seen her go, and he could have told me when it was. I'll go to Mr. Ferguson's. Of course she's there." He stood on the curb-stone for a minute, looking for a carriage; but the street was deserted. He could not take the time to go to the livery-stable.
If her little girl, who was always a delicate child, should be in unkind hands, she sickened at heart to think how much she would suffer. Night after night would she dream of the dear child; and always saw her in some condition of extreme hardship. One night she thought she saw little Mary sitting on the curb-stone.
"Help us to escape," she said quickly. "I am weary of my task. Can we get away without their seeing us?" Mr. Sabin offered his arm. They passed along the broad way, and as they were almost the last to leave the place, their carriage was easily found. The Prince and Mr. Brott appeared only in time to see Mr. Sabin turning away, hat in hand, from the curb-stone. Brott's face darkened.
Chester arose with difficulty and left the store, scarcely conscious of his own movements, for he was still faint from the changed atmosphere. But the cold air revived him, and he walked on beneath the old elm, passing the two men, who stood on the curb-stone leaning against its trunk, apparently in excited conversation.
Officers walked their lean horses beside the column. One among them drew bridle near him, calling out: "Have you the right time?" Berkley looked at his watch. "Midnight." "Thank you, friend." Berkley stepped to the curb-stone: "What regiment is that?" "Eighth New York." "Leaving?" "Going into camp. Yorkville." Berkley said: "Do you want a damned fool?"
The dashing span, adrip with the foam of the long country ride, rushes past as you halt at the curb-stone. Mirth, revelry, beauty, fashion, magnificence mingle in the great metropolitan picture, until the thinking man goes home to think more seriously, and the praying man to pray more earnestly. A beautiful and overwhelming thing is the city in the first and second watches of the night.
"'He's walking straight to the highest part of the curb-stone, said I to myself. 'And it's very high too. I wonder if some one won't help him and start him in the right direction.
As I was not going home, I determined to take my departure in the direction the very opposite to home. Just as I was about to cross the street called the Haymarket, at the lower part, a cabriolet, drawn by a magnificent animal, came dashing along at a furious rate; it stopped close by the curb-stone where I was, a sudden pull of the reins nearly bringing the spirited animal upon its haunches.
He said that this surface quartz was not all there was of our mine; but that the wall or ledge of rock called the "Monarch of the Mountains," extended down hundreds and hundreds of feet into the earth he illustrated by saying it was like a curb-stone, and maintained a nearly uniform thickness-say twenty feet away down into the bowels of the earth, and was perfectly distinct from the casing rock on each side of it; and that it kept to itself, and maintained its distinctive character always, no matter how deep it extended into the earth or how far it stretched itself through and across the hills and valleys.
"Oh, it's you again!" he said, in a tone of annoyance, taking hold of one arm and raising her so that she sat on the curb-stone. Mr. Dinneford now saw her face distinctly; it was that of an old woman, but red, swollen and terribly marred. Her thin gray hair had fallen over her shoulders, and gave her a wild and crazy look.
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