Long trains of coal cars, laden and unladen, stood upon sidings; the tracks of other roads were crossed; the smoke of other locomotives was seen on parallel lines; factories multiplied; streets appeared; the noise of a busy city began to fill the air;--and with a slower and slower clank on the connecting rails and interlacing switches the train rolled into the station and stood still.
It was a hot August morning.

The broad streets glowed in the sun, and the white-shuttered houses stared at the hot thoroughfares like closed bakers' ovens set along the highway.

Philip was oppressed with the heavy air; the sweltering city lay as in a swoon.

Taking a street car, he rode away to the northern part of the city, the newer portion, formerly the district of Spring Garden, for in this the Boltons now lived, in a small brick house, befitting their altered fortunes.
He could scarcely restrain his impatience when he came in sight of the house.

The window shutters were not "bowed"; thank God, for that.