Nor is this merely a figure of
speech: the building really appealed to me as a temple, as a House
of Sanctity, as we call the ancient Temple of Jerusalem. At least
that was the term I would fondly apply to it, years later, in my
retrospective broodings upon the first few years of my life in
America
I was impatiently awaiting the advent of the slack season, and
when it came at last I applied myself exclusively to the study of
subjects required for admission to college. To accelerate matters I
engaged, as my instructor in mathematics and geography, the son
of our tough-looking presser. I paid him twenty-five cents an hour.
My geography lessons were rapidly dispelling the haze that had
enshrouded the universe from me. I beheld the globe hanging in
space, a vast independent world and yet a mere speck among
countless myriads of other worlds. Its rotations were so vivid in
my mind that I seemed to hear it hum as it spun round and round
its axis. The phenomena producing day and night and the four
seasons were as real to me as the things that took place in my
restaurant.
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