over his right shoulder--and then walks away,
muttering to himself so as to be heard by that ragged boy there, who
stands staring after him with both hands grasping his knees, and with
_such_ a look!

Another yet--and yet another shape! and both walking with their legs
bent; both taking long strides, and both finding their way, with the
instinct of a blood-hound, never looking up, nor turning to the right
or left in their course. Are they partners in trade, or rivals? Do
they follow the same business, or were they school-fellows together,
some fifty years ago; and are they still running against each other
for a purse they will never find till they have reached the grave
together. See! they have cleared that corner, side by side; and now
they are stretching away at the same killing pace, neck and neck,
toward the Exchange. Of course, they live in the same neighborhood;
they are fellow-craftsmen, they have reputations at stake, and are
determined never to yield an inch--whatever may happen. But why
wouldn't they look up? Was there nothing above worth minding--nothing
on the right hand nor on the left of their course, worthy a passing
thought? _Whither are they going?_ And what will they have learnt or
enjoyed, and what will they have to say for themselves when they reach
the end of their course?

And that other man, with arms akimbo, a dollar's worth of flour in a
bag, flung over his shoulder--why need he strut so--and why doesn't he
walk faster? Has he no sympathy for the rest of the world, not he; or
does he only mean to say, in so many words, _that_ for such weather!
and _that_ for every fellow I see, who isn't able to carry home a
dollar's worth of flour to his family every Saturday night! Does he
believe that nobody else understands the worth and sweetness of a
home-baked loaf?

And that strange looking woman there, with her muff and parasol, her
claret-colored cloak, with a huge cape, and that everlasting green
veil! What business, now, has such a woman above ground--at this
season of the year? Would she set your teeth chattering before the
winter sets in? And what on earth does she carry that sun-shade for,
toward nightfall, about the last of October--is the woman beside
herself?

But she is gone; and in her stead appear three boys, who, but for the
season of the year, might be suspected of birdnesting. They are all of
a size--all of an age, or thereabouts--and all dressed alike, save
that one wears a cloth