Yes--millions--beginning to grow.
Yes--millions--beginning to grow.

THE CHEERFUL LOCKSMITH.

1. From the workshop of the Golden Key there issued forth a
tinkling sound, so merry and good-humored that it suggested the
idea of some one working blithely, and made quite pleasant music.
Tink, tink, tink--clear as a silver bell, and audible at every
pause of the streets' harsher noises, as though it said, "I don't
care; nothing puts me out; I am resolved to be happy."

2. Women scolded, children squalled, heavy carts went rumbling by,
horrible cries proceeded from the lungs of hawkers; still it
struck in again, no higher, no lower, no louder, no softer; not
thrusting itself on people's notice a bit the more for having been
outdone by louder sounds--tink, tink, tink, tink, tink.

3. It was a perfect embodiment of the still, small voice, free
from all cold, hoarseness, huskiness, or unhealthiness of any
kind. Foot-passengers slackened their pace, and were disposed to
linger near it; neighbors who had got up splenetic that morning,
felt good-humor stealing on them as they heard it, and by degrees
became quite sprightly; mothers danced their babies to its
ringing;--still the same magical tink, tink, tink came gaily from
the workshop of the Golden Key.

4. Who but the locksmith could have made such music? A gleam of
sun, shining through the unsashed window and checkering the dark
workshop with a broad patch of light, fell full upon him, as