|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Life in the Iron-Mills by Rebecca Davis: his feet. He watched it steadily, as it crept up, inch by inch,
slowly. It seemed to him to carry with it a great silence. He
had been so hot and tired there always in the mills! The years
had been so fierce and cruel! There was coming now quiet and
coolness and sleep. His tense limbs relaxed, and settled in a
calm languor. The blood ran fainter and slow from his heart.
He did not think now with a savage anger of what might be and
was not; he was conscious only of deep stillness creeping over
him. At first he saw a sea of faces: the mill-men,--women he
had known, drunken and bloated,--Janey's timid and pitiful-poor
old Debs: then they floated together like a mist, and faded
Life in the Iron-Mills |
