for? They are all so earnest. What is it I do not understand?"
And none of them seemed to see, as he could do, the drink-sodden wretchedness of the painted women at the corner, the ragged misery that sneaked along the gutters, the infinite futility of all this employment. The infinite futility! None of them seemed to feel the shadow of that giant's need, that shadow of the future, that lay athwart their paths...
Across the road high up mysterious letters flamed and went, that might, could he have read them, have measured for him the dimensions of human interest, have told him of the fundamental needs and features of life as the little folks conceived it. First would come a flaming
T;
Then U would follow,
TU;
Then P,
TUP;
Until at last there stood complete, across the sky, this cheerful message to all who felt the burthen of life's earnestness:
TUPPER'S TONIC WINE FOR VIGOUR.
Snap! and it had vanished into night, to be followed in the same slow development by a second universal solicitude:
BEAUTY SOAP.
Not, you remark, mere cleansing chemicals, but something, as they say, "ideal;" and then, completing the tripod of the little
