Sixth Avenue swerved away to the right, a less brilliant lane of blanched snow.

The L trains crept along like huge fire-eyed serpents.

The hum of the ceaseless moving line of motor cars drifted upward faintly, almost drowned in the rising clamor of the street.

Broadway's gay and thoughtless crowds surged to and fro, from that height merely a thick stream of black figures, like contending columns of ants on the march.
And everywhere the monstrous electric signs flared up vivid in white and red and green; and dimmed and paled, only to flash up again.
Ring out the Old! Ring in the New! Carley had poignantly felt the sadness of the one, the promise of the other.

As one by one the siren factory whistles opened up with deep, hoarse bellow, the clamor of the street and the ringing of the bells were lost in a volume of continuous sound that swelled on high into a magnificent roar.