brand of cigarettes. He does not
sell tobacco. "Next door," he said, and added: "And you'll find some
over on the fountain."

Ridge Avenue specializes in tobacco shops, where you will find many
brands that require a strong head. Red Snapper, Panhandle Scrap, Pinch
Hit, Red Horse, Brown's Mule, Jolly Tar, Penn Statue Cuttings, Nickel
Cross Cut, Cotton Ball Twist. In the shop windows you will see those
photographs illustrating current events, the two favourites just now
being a picture of Mike Gilhooley, the famous stowaway, gazing
plaintively at the profile of New York, and "Jack Dempsey Goes the
Limit," where Jack signs up for a $1,000 war-savings certificate. One
wonders if Jack's kind of warfare is really so profitable after all.

There are a number of little side excursions from the avenue that repay
scrutiny. Lemon Street, for instance, where in a lane of old brown
wooden houses some children were playing in an empty wagon, with the
rounded tower of the Rodef Shalom synagogue looming in the background.
Best of all is Melon Street and its modest tributary, Park
Avenue--stretches of quiet little brick homes with green and yellow
shutters and mottled gray marble steps. These little houses have the
serene and sunny air so typical of Philadelphia byways. Through their
narrow side entrances one sees glimpses of green in backyards. In the
front windows move the gently swaying faces of grandmothers, lulled in
the to and fro of a rocking chair. There are shining brass knobs and
bell-pulls; rubber plants on the sills, or perhaps a small bowl of
goldfish with a white china swan floating. In one window was a sign
"Vacancies." Over it hung a faded service flag with a golden star. Who
could phrase the pathos of these two things, side by side?

At Broad Street, Ridge Avenue leaps up with a spurt of high life. In the
window of a hotel dining room a gentleman sat eating his lunch,
stevedoring a buttered roll with such gusto that one felt tempted to
applaud. There are the white pillars of a bank and the battleship gray
of the Salvation Army headquarters. Beyond Broad, the avenue spruces up
a bit and enters upon a vivacious phase. Dogs are frequent: white bull
terriers lie sunning in the shop windows. Offers to lend money are
enticing. There is a fascinating slate yard at 1525, where great gray
slabs lie in the sun, a temptation to urchins with a bit of chalk. In
the warm bask of the afternoon there rises a pleasing aroma of fruits