Rattling the Chains 



here in town to hold him well in leash. 

 He can't chase himself through the 

 flower-beds and shrubbery as he would 

 dearly love to do. That is of course 

 forbidden. Then, too, here where I 

 live during the months when Sol is 

 slowly working his way back into the 

 North, I may still stroll through the 

 great park opposite where aged cotton- 

 woods are waving their denuded tops 

 majestically in the wintry wind, with- 

 out being arrested; that is, if I can take 

 time at a reasonable hour away from 

 the sanctum down in the grimy, noisy, 

 iron-bound "loop." One may even 

 stop and admire those graceful elms 

 without being told to "move on;" and 

 if your eye be quick enough you may 

 detect once in a while a downy wood- 

 pecker using his quick and microscopic 

 eyes, let us hope with good effect, upon 

 the wrinkled trunks and sturdier 

 branches overhead. Indeed, from 

 where I sit there are two views, the 

 one inside the windows and the other 



