A Mystery of Crowds 



* 



WHO has not at some time leaned over 

 the parapet of a bridge to watch the 

 wrinklings and dimplings of the cur- 

 rent below, to wonder at the trembling per- 

 manency of surf ace -shapes that never change, 

 though the substance of them is never for two 

 successive moments the same ? The mystery of 

 the spectacle fascinates ; and it is worth thinking 

 about. Symbols of the riddle of our own being 

 are those shuddering forms. In ourselves like- 

 wise the substance perpetually changes with the 

 flow of the Infinite Stream; but the shapes, 

 though ever agitated by various inter-opposing 

 forces, remain throughout the years. 



And who has not been fascinated also by the 



sight of the human stream that pours and pulses 



through the streets of some great metropolis? 



This, too, has its currents and counter-currents 



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