.

I COME TO GRAPPLE WITH THE CITY.
I have laughed heartily many times since I came home to think of the Figure of Tragedy I felt myself that morning in the city of Kilburn.

I had not slept well, had not slept at all, I think, and the experiences and emotions of the previous night still lay heavy upon me.

Not before in many years had I felt such a depression of the spirits.
It was all so different from the things I love! Not so much as a spear of grass or a leafy tree to comfort the eye, or a bird to sing; no quiet hills, no sight of the sun coming up in the morning over dewy fields, no sound of cattle in the lane, no cheerful cackling of fowls, nor buzzing of bees! That morning, I remember, when I first went out into those squalid streets and saw everywhere the evidences of poverty, dirt, and ignorance--and the sweet, clean country not two miles away--the thought of my own home among the hills (with Harriet there in the doorway) came upon me with incredible longing.
"I must go home; I must go home!" I caught myself saying aloud.
I remember how glad I was when I found that my friend Bill Hahn and other leaders of the strike were to be engaged in conferences during the forenoon, for I wanted to be alone, to try to get a few things straightened out in my mind.
But I soon found that a city is a poor place for reflection or contemplation.

It bombards one with an infinite variety of new impressions and new adventures; and I could not escape the impression made by crowded houses, and ill-smelling streets, and dirty sidewalks, and swarming human beings.