'
"'Who are these people on the side of the hill?' asks the man.
"'Sure,' says I, 'none others than the tenants of the Beersheba
Flats--a fine home for any man, especially on hot nights. May
daylight come soon!'
"'They come here be night,' says he, 'and breathe in the pure air
and the fragrance of the flowers and trees. They do that,' says he,
'coming every night from the burning heat of dwellings of brick and
stone.'
"'And wood,' says I. 'And marble and plaster and iron.'
"'The matter will be attended to at once,' says the man, putting up
his book.
"'Are ye the Park Commissioner?' I asks.
"'I own the Beersheba Flats,' says he. 'God bless the grass and the
trees that give extra benefits to a man's tenants. The rents shall be
raised fifteen per cent. to-morrow. Good-night,' says he."
XVII
THE EASTER OF THE SOUL
It is hardly likely that a goddess may die. Then Eastre, the old
Saxon goddess of spring, must be laughing in her muslin sleeve at
people who believe that Easter, her namesake, exists only along
certain strips of Fifth Avenue pavement after church service.
Aye! It belongs to the world. The ptarmigan in Chilkoot Pass discards
his winter white feathers for brown; the Patagonian Beau Brummell
oils his chignon and clubs him another sweetheart to drag to his
skull-strewn flat. And down in Chrystie Street--
Mr. "Tiger" McQuirk arose with a feeling of disquiet that he did not
understand. With a practised foot he rolled three of his younger
brothers like logs out of his way as they lay sleeping on the floor.
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