ith Fanny and me to the park opening. They say lots of
folks are goin', and there's goin' to be fireworks. It'll distract
your mind. It ain't safe for anybody to dwell too much on good luck
any more than on misfortune. Go right out and eat your supper; it's
most time for the car."

Andrew obeyed.

Chapter LXI

The new park, which had been named, in honor of the president of the
street railway company, Clemens Park, was composed of a light growth
of oak and birch trees. With the light of the full moon, like a
broadside of silvery arrows, and the frequent electric-lights
filtering through the young, delicate foliage, it was much more
effective than a grove of pine or hemlock would have been.

When the people streamed into it from the crowded electric-cars,
there were exclamations of rapture. Women and girls fairly shrieked
with delight. The ground, which had been entirely cleared of
undergrowth, was like an etching in clearest black and white, of the
tender dancing foliage of the oaks and birches. The birches stood
together in leaning, white-limbed groups like maidens, and the
rustling spread of the oaks shed broad flashes of silver from the
moon. In the midst of the grove the Hungarian orchestra played in a
pavilion, and dancing was going on there. Many of the people outside
moved with dancing steps. Children in swings flew through the airs
with squeals of delight. There was a stand for the sale of ice-cream
and soda, and pretty girls blossomed like flowers behind the
counters. There were various rustic adornments, such as seats and
grottos, and at one end of the grove was a small collection of wild
animals in cages, and a little artificial pond with swans. Now and
then, above the chatter of the people and the music of the
orchestra, sounded the growl of a bear or the shrill screech of a
paroquet, and the people all stopped and listened and laughed. This
little titillation of the unusual in the midst of their sober walk
of life affected them like champagne. Most of them were of the
poorer and middle classes, the employes of the factories of Rowe.
They moved back and forth with dancing steps of exultation.

"My, ain't it beautiful!" Fanny said, squeezing Andrew's arm. He had
his wife on one arm, his mother on the other. For him the whole
scene appeared more than it really was, since it reflected the joy
of his own soul. There was for him a light greater than that of the
moon or electricity upon it--that ext