the gutters. Such
was the unbroken scene from the Big Barracks to Tompkins Square; ay, to
Harlem and to the East River, and almost to Broadway. In the park, as if
the street scenes had been merely preliminary, the paths were alive,
wriggling, with babies of every age, from the new-born to the children
in pigtails and knickerbockers--and, lo! these were already paired and
practising at courtship. The walk that Cordelia was taking was amid a
fever, a delirium, of maternity--a rhapsody, a baby's opera, if one
considered its noise. In that vast region no one inquired whether
marriage was a failure. Nothing that is old and long-beloved and human
is a failure there.

In Tompkins Park, while they dodged babies and stepped around babies and
over them, they saw many happy couples on the settees, and they noticed
that often the men held their arms around the waists of their
sweethearts. Girls, too, in other instances, leaned loving heads against
the young men's breasts, blissfully regardless of publicity. They passed
a young man and a woman kissing passionately, as kissing is described by
unmarried girl novelists. Cordelia thought it no harm to nudge Mr.
Fletcher and whisper:

"Sakes alive! They're right in it, ain't they. 'It's funny when you feel
that way,' ain't it?"

As many another man who does not know the frankness and simplicity of
the plain people might have done, Mr. Fletcher misjudged the girl. He
thought her the sort of girl he was far from seeking. He grew instantly
cold and reserved, and she knew, vaguely, that she had displeased him.

"I think people who make love in public should be locked up," said he.

"Some folks wants everybody put away that enjoys themselves," said
Cordelia. Then, lest she had spoken too strongly, she added, "Present
company not intended, Mr. Fletcher, but you said that like them mission
folks that come around praising themselves and tellin' us all we're
wicked."

"And do you think a girl can be good who behaves so in public?"

"I know plenty that's done it," said she; "and I don't know any girls
but what's good. They 'ain't got wings, maybe, but you don't want to
monkey with 'em, neither."

He recollected her words for many a year afterward and pondered them,
and perhaps they enlarged his understanding. She also often thought of
his condemnation of love-making out-of-doors. Kissing in public,
especially promiscuous kissing, she knew to be a debatable pastime, but
she also knew that