The Picture After the Storm 289 



The Picture After the Storm 



THE great storm had not discharged its 

 burden and taken wings and fled away 

 yesterday morning, nor did the clouds 

 disperse in the course of the day, but overhung 

 gloomily, as if they were waiting to produce some 

 new mischief. Occasionally a flurry of snow 

 filled the air, and the wind, still in the north 

 east, was rough and raw. The indecision of the 

 weather was the opportunity of the citizen, but 

 he was sluggish about improving it, and the 

 magnitude of the job frightened him, and neither 

 the city nor the street railroad company displayed 

 that energy which would have encouraged private 

 enterprise. In fact, slow though they were, the 

 citizens came off at the end of daylight ahead of 

 the municipality and the tenants of the highway. 

 The appearance of the city was unprecedented. 

 In the unbroken quiet of the morning hours it 

 lay, except for Main street, as trackless as the 

 forest. Like the forest, there was the exception 

 of its lesser animal life, for as the rabbits and 



