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"We-ell, that's not so bad, comparatively. We might take a chance."
New York
T sandwich man with the "no speculators' I tickets accepted" at the Palace in the middle of the scalping zone. . . . The Greenwich Village Inn, filled with Columbia students from One Hundred and Sixteenth Street. . . . Gray's drug store, meeting place for six million people. . . . Petting parties at Inspiration Point crowded more thickly than the after-theatre jam at Times Square. . . .
The pretty cigarette girl at the Parody Club. . . . Coney Island and Chinatown for fifty cents. . . . Ice cream soda dissipations at the McAlpin. Sailors having the time of their lives on the Park Place escalator. . . . Filling stations built in imitation of English village architecture. . . . The something-hundredth-and-somethingth performance of "Abie's Irish Rose." . . . Hard-boiled Broadwayites shedding tears over the latest sentimental song wafted from the windows of Tin Pan Alley. . . .
Spats, cutaways and Pomeranians on Park Avenue. . . . Fat ladies leaning on window sills near the New York Central tracks. . . . Take the kiddies a Zeppelin balloon fer fifteen cents. . . . The one-legged pencil-seller in the Fourteenth Street subway entrance. Visitors from Lansing, Michigan, who inspect Grant's Tomb once a year. . . .
Perpetual auction sales along Broadway in the Forties. . . . Fifth Avenue busmen wearing name plates. . . . Marion Davies's pictures "reviewed" in the Hearst newspapers. . . . Orange drink stands selling hot dogs. . . . The Clicquot sign at Forty-third Street. . . . Crossword puzzlists in the Interborough. . . . Malt and hops stores, or what have you? . . . The white-haired, young-faced information girl at the Commodore. . . . The man who lives at the Astor and subscribes to The American Mercury, The Country Gentleman and Snappy Stories. . . . The tragic figure who mistook the 1 A. M. South Ferry train for the Flatbush express. . . . —T. H. B.
Lead All, Journalistic Candor
Fiction—An instalment 'of a novel with wide popular appeal, and a true short story-every day.
—From a prospectus of the Daily Mirror.
Would I could journey to some lone grot
In a far Samoan vacant lot.
Would I could hie to some Iceland floe
Known only to unread Esquimaux.
For I want (have you any furnished nooks?)
To travel where there are no travel books.
Item: "Late steamer arrivals are
Ida Gemish and Ffolliott Carr."
The point of which is, devoid of trimmin':
The late ones are, as usual, women.
