Excerpt from In Sight of the Goddess: A Tale of Washington Life
I have never been able to decide just where in these sixty square miles that make up the District the mischief lies that seems to play the devil with the most of us who have been afﬂicted with birth here. Certain it is that few of the native-born have ever attained anything in the way of success, and I am conspicuously not one of the few. There seems to be an enervation, a sort of mental malaria aﬂoat, that lays waste, kills, or perverts any energy or am bitiou that nature might have endowed us with.
I don't know just what I expected to do with my life when I came home after graduation. I may have had some ideas on the subject be fore I left my alma mater, but, if so, as soon as I felt the lazy, paralyzing atmosphere of my na tive place again, everything became uncomfort ably vague, and, although I was confronted with the fact that I had my own living to earn, I was just about as much in the dark as to how I was going to do it as the traditional unborn babe. I know I had a pretty bad quarter of an hour, which somehow has managed to stretch itself over the best part of my life so far.
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