the Sheet-Iron Shoes,
they knew they looked like New York Club Men and the Flag Station
seemed far away, as in another World.

Instead of the usual 6:30 Repast of Chipped Beef in Cream, Sody
Biscuits and a Stoup of Gunpowder Tea, they ordered up Cape Cods,
Pommes Let-it-go-at-that, Sweetbreads So-and-so, on and on past the
partially heated Duck and Salad with Fringe along the Edges and Cheese
that had waited too long and a Check for $17.40 and the Waiter peeved
at being slipped a paltry $1.60.

Heigh-ho! It is a Frolicking Life!

Pity the Poor Folks who are now getting ready to court the Hay in
Akron, Ohio, and Three Oaks, Michigan, and Tulsa, Oklahoma, with no
thought of what they are Missing.

They remembered afterward being in a gilded Play-House with the
Activities equally divided between a Trap-Drummer and 700 restless
Young Women.

Then, being assailed by the Pangs of Hunger, they went out and
purchased Crab Flakes at 20 cents a Flake, after which they paid to get
their Hats, and next Morning they were back in their rooms, entirely
surrounded by Towels.

On the third Afternoon, Milt suspended Fall Buying long enough to send
his Family a Book of Views showing the Statue of Peter Cooper, the
Aviary in Bronx Park, and Brooklyn Bridge by Moonlight.

Then, with a Clear Conscience, he went back and put his Foot on the Rail.

The morning on which their Bodies were taken to Pennsylvania Station
broke bright and cheery.

Milt said somebody had fed him a Steam Coie and put Mittens on him and
unscrewed his Knee-Caps.

Otherwise, he was O. K..

Henry kept waving the English Sparrows out of the Way, and asking why
so many Bells were ringing.

Two weeks later, at the Union Revival Services, when Rev. Poindexter
gave out that rousing old Stand-By which begins "Yield Not to
Temptation," Milt and Henry arose from the Cushioned Seats and sang
their fool Heads off.

MORAL: One who would put Satan on the Mat must get Inside Information
from his Training Quarters.

THE FLAT-DWELLER

Once there was a tired Denizen of the Big Town whose home was at the
end of a Hallway in a Rabbit Warren known as the Minnehaha.

It was not a Tenement, because he had to pay $30 a Month for a
compressed Suite overlooking 640 acres of Gravel Roof.

Sitting back in his Morris Chair with his Feet on the tiny Radiator he
would read in the Sunday Paper all that Bunk about the Down-and-Outs of
the City hiking back to the Soil and ma