The pale, pleasant light toned in precisely, however, to the
meaning of Arch and Walnut Streets, where the old Quaker family-life has
rooted itself into the city, and looks out on the passers-by in such a
sober, cheerful fashion. There was one house, low down in Arch, that
would have impressed you as having grown more sincerely than the others
out of the character of its owner. There was nothing bigoted or
purse-proud or bawbling in the habit of the man who built it; from the
massive blocks in the foundation, to the great horse-chestnuts in front,
and the creeping ivy over pictures and bookshelves, there was the same
constant hint of a life liberal, solid, graceful. It had its whim of
expression, too, in the man himself,--a small man, lean,
stoop-shouldered, with gray hair and whiskers, wearing a clergyman's
black suit and white cravat: his every motion was quiet, self-poised,
intelligent; a quizzical, kind smile on the mouth, listening eyes, a
grave forehead; a man who had heard other stories than any in your
life,--of different range, yet who waited, helpful, for yours, knowing
it to be something new and full of an eternal meaning.
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