need not read the inscription: a glance at that shaggy head, the
grave, sober, earnest look, and you exclaim under your breath, "Carlyle!"

In this statue the artist has caught with rare skill the look of reverie
and repose. One can imagine that on a certain night, as the mists and
shadows of evening were gathering along the dark river, the gaunt form,
wrapped in its accustomed cloak, came stalking down the little street to
the park, just as he did thousands of times, and taking his seat in the
big chair fell asleep. In the morning the children that came to play
along the river found the form in cold, enduring bronze.

At the play we have seen the marble transformed by love into beauteous
life. How much easier the reverse--here where souls stay only a day!

Cheyne Row is a little, alley-like street, running only a block, with
fifteen houses on one side, and twelve on the other.

These houses are all brick and built right up to the sidewalk. On the
north side they are all in one block, and one at first sees no touch of
individuality in any of them.

They are old, and solid, and plain--built for revenue only. On closer
view I thought one or two had been painted, and on one there was a
cornice that set it off from the rest. As I stood on the opposite side
and looked at this row of houses, I observed that Number Five was the
dingiest and plainest of them all. For there were dark shutters instead
of blinds, and these shutters were closed, all save one rebel that swung
and creaked in the breeze. Over the doorway, sparrows had made their
nests and were fighting and scolding. Swallows hovered above the chimney;
dust, cobwebs, neglect were all about.

And as I looked there came to me the words of Ursa Thomas:

"Brief, brawling day, with its noisy phantoms, its paper crowns,
tinsel-gilt, is gone; and divine, everlasting night, with her
star diadems, with her silences and her verities, is come."

Here walked Thomas and Jeannie one fair May morning in Eighteen Hundred
Thirty-four. Thomas was thirty-nine, tall and swarthy, strong; with set
mouth and three wrinkles on his forehead that told of care and dyspepsia.
Jeannie was younger; her face winsome, just a trifle anxious, with
luminous, gentle eyes, suggestive of patience, truth and loyalty. They
looked like country folks, did these two. They examined the
surroundings, consulted together--sixty pounds rent a year seemed very
high! But they took the house, and T.