136 The Life Worth Living 



son Square — the vortex into which swift 

 human rivers pour their waters. At this 

 spot, he who has ears can always hear the 

 roar of a Niagara more thrilling than the 

 music of the leap of rivers from granite cliffs. 



I see the miles of electric lights flash 

 brighter than the stars, and the glow and 

 splendour and mystery of it all stirs my soul. 



Warm hands clasp mine, and the faces of 

 friends smile their greetings. 



I hear the music of the orchestra, the 

 tumult and the shout of Broadway on gala 

 nights of grand opera, the voices of my 

 favourites singing as never before — and I 

 am glad. 



I slip back into my study hard by the 

 Square — I confess I have always kept it 

 there — and turn up the lights with a sneak- 

 ing joy at my inconsistency. I hate con- 

 sistent people, anyhow. 



