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    A Struggle For Life
    A Struggle For Life
    A Struggle For Life
    Ebook36 pages24 minutes

    A Struggle For Life

    By Thomas Bailey Aldrich

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    A Struggle For Life
    Author

    Thomas Bailey Aldrich

    Thomas Bailey Aldrich; November 11, 1836 – March 19, 1907) was an American writer, poet, critic, and editor. He is notable for his long editorship of The Atlantic Monthly, during which he published works by Charles W. Chesnutt and others. He was also known for his semi-autobiographical book The Story of a Bad Boy, which established the "bad boy's book" sub genre in nineteenth-century American literature, and for his poetry, which included "The Unguarded Gates" (Wikipedia)

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      Book preview

      A Struggle For Life - Thomas Bailey Aldrich

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Struggle For Life, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: A Struggle For Life

      Author: Thomas Bailey Aldrich

      Release Date: November 6, 2007 [EBook #23356]

      Last Updated: November 30, 2012

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE ***

      Produced by David Widger

      A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.

      By Thomas Bailey Aldrich

      Boston And New York Houghton Mifflin Company

      Copyright, 1873, 1885, and 1901

      One morning as I was passing through Boston Common, which lies between my home and my office, I met a gentleman lounging along The Mall. I am generally preoccupied when walking, and often thread my way through crowded streets without distinctly observing any one. But this man's face forced itself upon me, and a singular face it was. His eyes were faded, and his hair, which he wore long, was flecked with gray. His hair and eyes, if I may say so, were sixty years old, the rest of him not thirty. The youthfulness of his figure, the elasticity of his gait, and the venerable appearance of his head were incongruities that drew more than one pair of curious eyes towards him, He excited in me the painful suspicion that he had got either somebody else's head or somebody else's body. He was evidently an American, at least so far as the upper part of him was concerned—the New England cut of countenance is unmistakable—evidently a man who had seen something of the world, but strangely young and old.

      Before reaching the Park Street gate, I had taken up the thread of thought which he had unconsciously broken; yet throughout the day this old young man, with his unwrinkled brow and silvered locks, glided in like a phantom between me and my duties.

      The next morning I again encountered him on The Mall. He was resting

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