rn down and carried piecemeal by sons of Italy
to the bare hills of Glendale, there to enter into new combinations
representing, to an eye craving harmony, the last word of a chaos, of
a mental indigestion, of a colour scheme crying aloud to heaven for
retribution. Standing alone and bare amidst its truck gardens, hideous,
extreme, though typical of the entire settlement, composed of fragments
ripped from once-appropriate settings, is a house with a tiny body
painted strawberry-red, with scroll-work shutters a tender green;
surmounting the structure and almost equalling it in size is a sky-blue
cupola, once the white crown of the Sutter mansion, the pride of old
Hampton. The walls of this dwelling were wrested from the sides of
Mackey's Tavern, while the shutters for many years adorned the parsonage
of the old First Church. Similarly, in Hampton and in Fillmore Street,
lived in enforced neighbourliness human fragments once having their
places in crystallized communities where existence had been regarded as
solved. Here there was but one order,--if such it may be called,--one
relationship, direct, or indirect, one necessity claiming them all--the
mills.

Like the boards forming the walls of the shacks at Glendale, these human
planks torn from an earlier social structure were likewise warped, which
is to say they were dominated by obsessions. Edward's was the Bumpus
family; and Chris Auermann, who lived in the flat below, was convinced
that the history of mankind is a deplorable record of havoc caused by
women. Perhaps he was right, but the conviction was none the less
an obsession. He came from a little village near Wittenburg that has
scarcely changed since Luther's time. Like most residents of Hampton who
did not work in the mills, he ministered to those who did, or to those
who sold merchandise to the workers, cutting their hair in his barber
shop on Faber Street.

The Bumpuses, save Lise, clinging to a native individualism and pride,
preferred isolation to companionship with the other pieces of driftwood
by which they were surrounded, and with which the summer season
compelled a certain enforced contact. When the heat in the little
dining-room grew unbearable, they were driven to take refuge on the
front steps shared in common with the household of the barber. It is
true that the barber's wife was a mild hausfrau who had little to say,
and that their lodgers, two young Germans who worked in the mills, spent
most of