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The Highland monthly - National Library of Scotland

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<strong>The</strong> <strong>Highland</strong> Monthly.<br />

temporary ones, amid rocks and stones, heather and marshy<br />

mosses, man should find it necessary to be so very busy,<br />

that a swarm from the hive <strong>of</strong> human industry should settle<br />

down, and with pickaxe and shovel undermine here and<br />

bank up there, to force the unyielding rock out <strong>of</strong> its old<br />

bed into a new one, and the resistless soil out <strong>of</strong> this spot<br />

into that.<br />

It is true that man puts in more than half his time<br />

transferring himself or some other substance out <strong>of</strong> one<br />

place into another. Jefferson <strong>of</strong> New York, who has<br />

jumped about like a house-fly all these years, from hotel to<br />

store and from store to quay, must take a bigger jump across<br />

the seas to Europe or Africa, and when there jump away<br />

as before ; while Macpherson <strong>of</strong> Britain must needs<br />

betake himself to America or the Indies, and, like his<br />

brother Jefferson, move things himself or help others to<br />

the universal shifting. <strong>The</strong> wheat which has just been<br />

whirled into Chicago is not allowed to rest there, but must<br />

needs be bundled to the coast, and from there across the<br />

seas to some other coast, then railed again and sent inland<br />

by express as if it had some important appointment to<br />

meet (as indeed it has), and was pressed for time ; then out<br />

<strong>of</strong> the trucks with it and into carts, and rattled through the<br />

streets until each grain, if it had a voice, would cry out in<br />

sheer worry, " Let me alone ! get me to a mill where I can<br />

have rest and some peace !" Alas, false hope ! In the<br />

mill, the supposed haven <strong>of</strong> rest, its new conditions are<br />

worse than the old, for it is taken out <strong>of</strong> one granary into<br />

another, <strong>of</strong>f one floor on to a second, and so on until the<br />

soul is ground out <strong>of</strong> it, and it is once more stored in bags,<br />

and <strong>of</strong>f it goes again on a new journey. No rest, no peace !<br />

So these hundred and odd men are busy moving things,<br />

for they are building a railway for greater facility in movement<br />

; which railway, when finished, will consist literally <strong>of</strong><br />

miscellaneous material taken from many spots, and which<br />

has been shifted about for years, and set down here, for<br />

what extent <strong>of</strong> permanency none can tell.

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