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The train reached Aldbrickham, and the boy was deposited on the lonely platform beside his box. The collector took his ticket and, with a meditative sense of the unfitness of things, asked him where he was going by himself at that time of night. ¡¡¡¡ "Going to Spring Street," said the little one impassively. ¡¡¡¡ "Why, that's a long way from here; a'most out in the country; and the folks will be gone to bed." ¡¡¡¡ "I've got to go there." ¡¡¡¡ "You must have a fly for your box." ¡¡¡¡ "No. I must walk." ¡¡¡¡ "Oh well: you'd better leave your box here and send for it. There's a 'bus goes half-way, but you'll have to walk the rest." ¡¡¡¡ "I am not afraid." ¡¡¡¡ "Why didn't your friends come to meet 'ee?" ¡¡¡¡ "I suppose they didn't know I was coming." ¡¡¡¡ "Who is your friends?" ¡¡¡¡ "Mother di
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oil paintingdn't wish me to say." ¡¡¡¡ "All I can do, then, is to take charge of this. Now walk as fast as you can." Saying nothing further the boy came out into the street, looking round to see that nobody followed or observed him. When he had walked some little distance he asked for the street of his destination. He was told to go straight on quite into the outskirts of the place. ¡¡¡¡ The child fell into a steady mechanical creep which had in it an impersonal quality--the movement of the wave, or of the breeze, or of the cloud. He followed his directions literally, without an inquiring gaze at anything. It could have been seen that the boy's ideas of life were different from those of the local boys. Children begin with detail, and learn up to the general; they begin with the contiguous, and gradually comprehend the universal. The boy seemed to have begun with the generals of life, and never to have concerned himself with the particulars. To him the houses, the willows, the obscure fields beyond, were apparently regarded not as brick residences, pollards, meadows; but as human dwellings in the abstract, vegetation, and the wide dark world.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
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