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will so surely re…create （for me） the inner emotion of a time or place as a
remembered odourbrought back to me the incidents of that immemorial
existence。
For a time； I confess it frankly here； I felt afraid。 More than once I
stopped short in the street where I was walking； and considered turning
about and making again for the open country。 Some there may be who will
feel that I am exaggerating my sensations and impressions； but they do not
know of my memories of a former life； nor of how； many years ago； I left
the city quite defeated； glad indeed that I was escaping； and thinking （as I
have related elsewhere） that I should never again set foot upon a paved
street。 These things went deep with me。 Only the other day； when a friend
asked me how old I was； I responded instantlyour unpremeditated words
are usually truestwith the date of my arrival at this farm。
〃Then you are only ten years old！〃 he exclaimed with a laugh； thinking
I was joking。
〃Well；〃 I said； 〃I am counting only the years worth living。〃
No； I existed； but I never really lived until I was reborn； that wonderful
summer here among these hills。
I said I felt afraid in the streets of Kilburn； but it was no physical fear。
Who could be safer in a city than the man who has not a penny in his
pockets？ It was rather a strange； deep； spiritual shrinking。 There seemed
something so irresistible about this life of the city； so utterly overpowering。
I had a sense of being smaller than I had previously felt myself； that in
some way my personality； all that was strong or interesting or original
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about me； was being smudged over； rubbed out。 In the country I had in
some measure come to command life； but here； it seemed to me； life was
commanding me and crushing me down。 It is a difficult thing to describe： I
never felt just that way before。
I stopped at last on the main street of Kilburn in the very heart of the
town。 I stopped because it seemed necessary to me； like a man in a flood；
to touch bottom； to get hold upon something immovable and stable。 It was
just at that hour of evening when the stores and shops are pouring forth
their rivulets of humanity to join the vast flood of the streets。 I stepped
quickly aside into a niche near the corner of an immense building of brick
and steel and glass； and there I stood with my back to the wall； and I
watched the restless； whirling； torrential tide of the streets。 I felt again； as I
had not felt it before in years； the mysterious urge of the citythe sense of
unending； overpowering movement。
There was another strange； indeed uncanny； sensation that began to
creep over me as I stood there。 Though hundreds upon hundreds of men
and women were passing me every minute； not one of them seemed to see
me。 Most of them did not even look in my direction； and those who did
turn their eyes toward me see me to glance through me to the building
behind。 I wonder if this is at all a common experience； or whether I was
unduly sensitive that day； unduly wrought up？ I began to feel like one clad
in garments of invisibility。 I could see； but was not seen。 I could feel； but
was not felt。 In the country there are few who would not stop to speak to
me； or at least appraise me with their eyes； but here I was a wraith； a
ghostnot a palpable human being at all。 For a moment I felt unutterably
lonely。
It is this way with me。 When I have reached the very depths of any
serious situation or tragic emotion； something within me seems at last to
stophow shall I describe it？and I rebound suddenly and see the world；
as it were； doublesee that my condition instead of being serious or tragic
is in reality amusingand I usually came out of it with an utterly absurd or
whimsical idea。 It was so upon this occasion。 I think it was the image of
my robust self as a wraith that did it。
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〃After all；〃 I said aloud taking a firm hold on the good hard flesh of
one of my legs； 〃this is positively David Grayson。〃
I looked out again into that tide of facesinteresting； tired； passive；
smiling； sad； but above all； preoccupied faces。
〃No one；〃 I thought； 〃seems to know that David Grayson has come to
town。〃
I had the sudden； almost irresistible notion of climbing up a step near
me； holding up one hand； and crying out：
〃Here I am； my friends。 I am David Grayson。 I am real and solid and
opaque； I have plenty of red blood running in my veins。 I assure you that I
am a person well worth knowing。〃
I should really have enjoyed some such outlandish enterprise； and I am
not at all sure yet that it would not have brought me adventures and made
me friends worth while。 We fail far more often by under…daring than by
over…daring。
But this imaginary object had the result； at least； of giving me a new
grip on things。 I began to look out upon the amazing spectacle before me
in a different mood。 It was exactly like some enormous anthill into which
an idle traveller had thrust his cane。 Everywhere the ants were running out
of their tunnels and burrows； many carrying burdens and giving one
strangely the impression that while they were intensely alive and active；
not more than half of them had any clear idea of where they were going。
And serious； deadly serious； in their haste！ I felt a strong inclination to
stop a few of them and say：
〃Friends； cheer up。 It isn't half as bad as you think it is。 Cheer up！〃
After a time the severity of the human flood began to abate； and here
and there at the bottom of that gulch of a street； which had begun to fill
with soft； bluish…gray shadows； the evening lights a appeared。 The air had
grown cooler； in the distance around a corner I heard a street organ break
suddenly and joyously into the lively strains of 〃The Wearin' o' the Green。〃
I stepped out into the street with quite a new feeling of adventure。 And
as if to testify that I was now a visible person a sharp…eyed newsboy
discovered methe first human being in Kilburn who had actually seen me
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and came up with a paper in his hand。
〃Herald； boss？〃
I was interested in the shrewd； world…wise； humorous look in the
urchin's eyes。
〃No；〃 I began； with the full intent of bantering him into some sort of
acquaintance； but he evidently measured my purchasing capacity quite
accurately； for he turned like a flash to another customer。 〃Herald； boss？〃
〃You'll have to step lively； David Grayson；〃 I said to myself； 〃if you
get aboard in this city。〃
A slouchy negro with a cigarette in his fingers glanced at me in
passing and then； hesitating； turned quickly toward me。
〃Got a match； boss？〃
I gave him a match。
〃Thank you； boss；〃 and he passed on down the street。
〃I seem to be 'boss' around here；〃 I said。
This contact； slight as it was； gave me a feeling of warmth； removed a
little the sensation of aloofness I had felt； and I strolled slowly down the
street； looking in at the gay windows； now ablaze with lights； and
watching the really wonderful procession of vehicles of all shapes and
sizes that rattled by on the pavement。 Even at that hour of the day I think
there were more of them in one minute than I see in a whole month at my
farm。
It's a great thing to wear shabby clothes and an old hat。 Some of the
best things I have ever known； like these experiences of the streets； have
resulted from coming up to life from underneath； of being taken for less
than I am rather than for more than I am。
I did not always believe in this doctrine。 For many yearsthe years
before I was rightly born into this alluring worldI tried quite the opposite
course。 I was constantly attempting to come down to life from above。
Instead of being content to carry through life a sufficiently wonderful
being named David Grayson I tried desperately to set up and support a sort
of dummy creature w