silent paths and freedom from dust, noise, and dirt, that I noticed in port Howard. As in all other places the houses were not crowded together; there is no need for anything of the kind. Most of the workers prefer to travel a few miles when the labors of the day are over. The great depôts are built close together and as near to the loading wharves as possible but there is no visible traffic between them and the ships, and yet a boat containing many thousands of tons is unloaded or loaded in a day of five hours the load passing along tubes, some pneumatic, some containing small railways, and some an Archimedean screw.
Grayson and I did not spend any time amongst these wonders, as they were to my provincial eyes, though he advised me to see some of them when opportunity served, as a mechanic could not know too much about machinery.
Next morning I was up with the sun and got a good view of Granby, the wharves and piers and the ocean, from a tower built on an eminence in one of the ornamental recreation grounds in the city. From the top of Mount Weston I had seen the sun sink apparently into a bed of liquid fire, and from my present stand I saw him rise as if from the same bed.
His coming was heralded by the tuneful voices of thousands of feathered songsters, who lifted up their songs of praise; and I hope I may be pardoned for saying that I felt so full of happiness and life, so thankful for all the good things placed in my pathway that I, too, out of pure joy and gladness, sang a prayer of thanksgiving.
'Amen,' said a deep, strong voice behind me. I turned quickly, and looked into the eyes of a man. Large and dark were these eyes, and full of depth and power. He was a strong and sturdy man in the very prime of early manhood, being apparently about seventeen years of age. His head, face, attitude and general appearance all told of physical and mental strength and force of character.
'Yes, Amen,' be repeated. 'Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to see the happiness of youth, and to hear it ascribed to the proper sources, the Giver of Good.'
'Can we ascribe good to any other source?' I asked.
'Not directly, but some people are ungrateful, some proud, some indifferent. We are not yet perfect in this best of possible worlds. However, I have a purpose in interrupting your Matin song: you are Charles Frankston; your friend Grayson sent for me an hour ago, and finding you had gone out he asked me to follow you, adding that you would be sure to go to the nearest eminence.
'My old friend must he very observant. I have only travelled with him five days, and in that time have only climbed Mount Weston.'
'Probably he has read the aspiring, climbing, upstriving nature in your features.'
