separated itself from the rest, stept up on to the smooth road,
and standing in the middle of it, in an absorbed attitude, began
to make a movement with his hands as though winding string round
a top. That in fact was his occupation, and for the next five
minutes he kept thus winding the cord, flinging the top to the
ground, and intently bending down to catch it on his hand, none
of the others, not even the children, taking the slightest notice
of him,--he entirely alone there with his poor little pleasure.
There seemed to me pathos in his loneliness. Had some one spun
the top with him, it would have vanished; and presently, no doubt
at the bidding of an oath I could not hear, he hurriedly thrust
the top into his pocket, and once more joined the straining group
of men. The snatched pleasure must be put by at the call of
reality; the world and its work must rush in upon his dream. I
have often thought about the top and its spinner, as I have noted
the absorbed faces of other people's pleasures in the
streets,--two lovers passing along the crowded Strand with eyes
only for each other; a student deep in his book in the corner of
an omnibus; a young mother glowing over the child in her arms;
the wild-eyed musician dreamily treading on everybody's toes, and
begging nobody's pardon; the pretty little Gaiety Girl hurrying
to rehearsal with no thought but of her own sweet self and
whether there will be a letter from Harry at the stage-
door,--yes, if we are alone in our griefs, we are no less alone
in our pleasures. We spin our tops as in an enchanted circle,
and no one sees or heeds save ourselves,--as how should they with
their own tops to spin? Happy indeed is he, who has his top and
cares still to spin it; for to be tired of our tops is to be
tired of life, saith the preacher.