THE ENCHANTED VILLAGE
It was a warm morning. Everybody knew it was going to be hot later on and was bustling to get work well under way before the blaze of noon. The broad vista of Market street was dimmed by the summer haze that is part atmospheric and part gasoline vapor. And as I strolled up Sixth street I kept to the eastern side, which was still in pleasant shadow.
Sixth street has a charming versatility. Its main concern in the blocks north of Market street seems to be machinery and hardware—cutlery and die stamping and tools. But it amuses itself with other matters—printing and bookbinding, oysters and an occasional smack of beer. Like most of our downtown streets, it is well irrigated. It is a jolly street for a hot day, calling out many an ejaculation of the eye. For instance, I cannot resist the office window of a German newspaper. The samples of job printing displayed are so delightful a medley of the relaxations which make the world safe for democracy. Dance Program of the Beer Drivers' Union, Annual Ball of the Bellboys of Philadelphia, Russian Tea Party, First Annual Picnic of the Young People's Socialist League, Banquet of the Journeymen Barbers' Union—who would not have found honest mirth (and plenty of malt and hot dogs) at these entertainments! Just so we can imagine Messrs.
