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Down This Highway Walked A Lad, About Fifteen Years Of Age, Pale Of
Face, And With Delicate And Sensitive Features. His Overcoat Was
Buttoned Tightly About His Neck, And His Hands Thrust Into His
Pockets; He Gazed Around Him Swiftly As He Walked. He Came To This
Place Every Now And Then, But He Never Grew Used To What He Saw.
He Eyed The Men Who Passed Him; And When He Came To A Saloon He
Would Push Open The Door And Gaze About. Sometimes He Would Enter,
And Hurry Through, To Peer Into The Compartments In The Back; And
Then Go Out Again, Giving A Wide Berth To The Drinkers, And
Shrinking From Their Glances. Once A Girl Appeared In A Doorway, And
Smiled And Nodded To Him; He Started And Hurried Out, Shuddering.
Her Wanton Black Eyes Haunted Him, Hinting Unimaginable Things.
Then, On A Corner, He Stopped And Spoke To A Policeman. "Hello!"
Said The Man, And Shook His Head--"No, Not This Time." So The Boy
Went On; There Were Several Miles Of This Highway, And Each Block Of
It The Same.
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