"
And I think it was.
MR. BLAKE'S WALKING-STICK.
I.
THE WALKING-STICK WALKS.
Some men carry canes. Some men make the canes carry them. I never could
tell just what Mr. Blake carried his cane for. I am sure it did not often
feel his weight. For he was neither old, nor rich, nor lazy.
He was a tall, straight man, who walked as if he loved to walk, with a
cheerful tread that was good to see. I am sure he didn't carry the cane
for show. It was not one of those little sickly yellow things, that some
men nurse as tenderly as they might a lapdog. It was a great black stick
of solid ebony, with a box-wood head, and I think Mr. Blake carried it
for company. And it had a face, like that of an old man, carved on one
side of the box-wood head. Mr. Blake kept it ringing in a hearty way upon
the pavement as he walked, and the boys would look up from their marbles
when they heard it, and say: "There comes Mr. Blake, the minister!" And I
think that nearly every invalid and poor person in Thornton knew the
cheerful voice of the minister's stout ebony stick.
It was a clear, crisp, sunshiny morning in December.
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