Life in the Iron-Mills

[couldthisbematt]

“Only this dumb, woful face seems to belong to and end with the night. I turn to look at it. Has the power of its desperate need commanded the darkness away? While the room is yet steeped in heavy shadow, a cool, gray light suddenly touches its head like a blessing hand, and its groping arm points through the broken cloud to the east, where, in the flickering, nebulous crimson, God has set the promise of the Dawn.” - Davis

If you can, read this story.

http://www.samford.edu/schools/artsci/english/lasseter/editiron.htm