n with empty
hands; every man picking up something, and running to put it down
somewhere else, as in a play; and, all the while, "Clink! clink! clink!"
ringing above the other sounds,--the strokes of hundreds of hammers, like
the "Anvil Chorus."

"Where is Perry's Hotel?" we asked. One of the least busy of the throng
spared time to point to it with his thumb, as he passed us. In some
bewilderment we drew up in front of a large unfinished house, through the
many uncased apertures of which we could see only scaffoldings, rough
boards, carpenters' benches, and heaps of shavings. Streams of men were
passing in and out through these openings, which might be either doors or
windows; no steps led to any of them.

"Oh, yes! oh, yes! can accommodate you all!" was the landlord's reply to
our hesitating inquiries. He stood in the doorway of his dining-room; the
streams of men we had seen going in and out were the fed and the unfed
guests of the house. It was supper time; we also were hungry. We peered
into the dining room: three tables full of men; a huge pile of beds on the
floor, covered with hats and coats; a singular wall, made entirely of
doors propped upright; a triangular space walled off by sailcloth,--this
is what we saw. We stood outside, waiting among the scaffolding and
benches. A black man was lighting the candles in a candelabrum made of two
narrow bars of wood nailed across each other at right angles, and
perforated with holes. The candles sputtered, and the hot fat fell on the
shavings below.

"Dangerous way of lighting a room full of shavings," some one said. The
landlord looked up at the swinging candelabra and laughed. "Tried it
pretty often," he said. "Never burned a house down yet."

I observed one peculiarity in the speech at Garland City. Personal
pronouns, as a rule, were omitted; there was no time for a superfluous
word.

"Took down this house at Wagon Creek," he continued, "just one week ago;
took it down one morning while the people were eating breakfast; took it
down over their heads; putting it up again over their heads now."

This was literally true. The last part of it we ourselves were seeing
while he spoke, and a friend at our elbow had seen the Wagon Creek crisis.

"Waiting for that round table for you," said the landlord; " 'll bring the
chairs out here's fast's they quit 'em. That's the only way to get the
table."

So, watching his chances, as fast as a seat was vacated, he sprang int