but the government buildings were constructed years ago, and are mainly of wood. . . . This is as sleepy a town on Sunday as I have ever visited. This morning we went down to breakfast at 8:30, and dined alone. At noon, the maid had not yet cleaned up our rooms. But it is just as bad across the street, at the Empire Hotel, into the rooms of which I can look. The beds were not made there at noon, either; indeed, in one room a man was still in bed. The lady bartenders at the Empire are not on duty today; the blinds are down in the bar, and the lady bartenders are probably patronizing some of the numerous excursions we saw advertised in the morning papers. The day is not only Sunday, but rain began falling in the afternoon, and we had no other amusement than watching the bored guests at the Empire. . . . The maid came in at 2 P. M. to clean up my room, and a fine lot of gossip she brought. She says that one of the girls employed in the office of the Grand died last night, and that the hotel force is demoralized. The girl's body was taken to the morgue this morning, and the maid thinks the papers will be full of it in the morning. When a man dies, it seems to be regular, but when a woman dies there is a chance for suspicion, particularly if she has been to Sydney three months before on a vacation. The maid also says that the lady bartenders at the Empire, across the street, kiss their customers. Lady bartenders, as a class, according to the maid, do not stand very high socially, a statement I can easily accept. . . . The maid says an American stopped at the Grand several months ago, and every time he met her, he said: "Go to h—l." I did not recognize
