Domestic fiction; Short stories; Suburban life -- Fiction
cure; while the galvanic-battery men sat still and mutely appealed with
inscriptions attached to their cap-visors declaring that electricity
taken from their batteries would rid you of every ache and pain known
to suffering humanity. Yet they were themselves as a class in a state
of sad physical disrepair, and one of them was the visible prey of
rheumatism which he might have sent flying from his joints with a single
shock. The only person whom I saw improving his health with the
battery was a rosy-faced school-boy, who was taking ten cents' worth
of electricity; and I hope it did not disagree with his pop-corn and
soda-water.
Farther on was a picturesque group of street-musicians,--violinists
and harpers; a brother and four sisters, by their looks,--who afforded
almost the only unpractical amusement to be enjoyed on the Common,
though not far from them was a blind old negro, playing upon an
accordion, and singing to it in the faintest and thinnest of black
voices, who could hardly have profited any listener. No one appeared to
mind him, till a jolly Jack-tar with both arms cut off, but dressed in
full sailor's togs, lurched heavily towards him. This mariner had got
quite a good effect of sea-legs by some means, and looked rather drunker
than a man with both arms ought to be; but he was very affectionate,
and, putting his face close to the other's, at once entered into talk
with the blind man, forming with him a picture curiously pathetic
and grotesque. He was the only tipsy person I saw during the Jubilee
days,--if he was tipsy, for after all they may have been real sea-legs
he had on.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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