Boys -- Fiction; City and town life -- Fiction; Newspaper employees -- Fiction
The aspect of dishonesty had never been so odious to him as now.
Hitherto he had carried his mother's teaching in one hand and his
trusty conscience in the other, and with a fair accord between them he
had gone triumphantly through the multiform temptations which assail a
small boy struggling for a living amidst the turmoils of a great town.
Now it was all over. He could never again feel aught but contempt for
himself. In his poignant pang of despair he had a strong impulse to
confess to his mother. He glanced over his shoulder at her, but she
had gone back wearily but unfalteringly to her work, and he relapsed
once more to staring dismally out over the roofs about him, mostly on a
lower level than the windows of this "sky parlor."
Scores of chimney-pots loomed up close at hand. Despite their smoky,
gloomy, unsocial aspect, this insensate crew served in some sort as
company for the boy. They were always there,--they saw him depart
in the morning, they waited for him to come home at night. They had
stories to tell him. He loved a vague, fanciful sense of community
interests with the unknown firesides below them. He pictured to himself
the families clustered about these invisible hearths. Every fantastic
wreath of soot-bespangled smoke curling out from these grimy tubes
indited for him an idyl on the fair page of the sky. What tragic, or
poetic, or romantic episodes were kindled with the homely fires cooking
the supper--and ended in smoke!
When winds were abroad and went rioting about the chimney-pots,
whistling and singing, the smoke affected too a jovial mien, and came
rushing and rollicking up to join its boisterous playfellows, who now
would sweep vast clouds of it aside in tenuous dispersal in the air,
and now would roll up great curling lengths of it like so many yards
of dusky ribbon, tucking it back into the chimney-pots whence it had
sought to issue forth. What roaring farces in the house-top regions
these wild days! What sense of hilarity, of joyous motion, of jocund
voice! "Ha! ha! ha!" said the winds. "What a high old time!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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