th I am in the home of the free, where all men are equal, where
O'Donovan Rossa may seek to blast the glories of a thousand years, where
a Henry George may pave the way for an anarchy such as the world has
never yet seen, where even Jem Blaine, as his admirers term him, passes
for an honest man, and claims to have a firm grip on the Presidential
chair.

I am unfortunate on my landing. I have the name of one of Cook's hotels
on my lips, and as I know Mr. John Cook makes better terms for his
customers than they can do for themselves, I resolve to go there, but
every one tells me there is no such hotel as that I ask for in New York,
and I am taken to one which is recommended by a respectable-looking
policeman. Unfortunately, it is the head-quarters of the veteran corps
of the Army of the Potomac, who swarm all over the place, as they did all
over the South in the grand times of old. I am not fond of heroes;
heroes are the men who have kept out of danger, while their less
fortunate comrades have been mowed down, and who appropriate the honours
which belong often to the departed alone. Well, these heroes are holding
the fort so tightly that I resolve to leave my quarters and explore the
Broadway, one of the most picturesque promenades in the world. Suddenly
I meet a stranger, who asks me how I am. I reply he has the advantage of
me. "Oh," says he, "you were at our store last night." I reply that was
impossible. He tells me his name is Bodger, I tell him my name, which,
however, he does not catch, whereupon he shakes my hand again, says how
happy he is to have met me, and we part to meet no more. I go a few
steps farther, and go through the same process with another individual.
I bear his congratulations with fortitude, but when, a few minutes after,
the same thing occurs again, I begin to wish I were in Hanover rather
than in New York, and I resolve to seek out Cook's Agency without further
delay. Of course I was directed wrong, and that led to a disaster which
will necessarily shorten my visit to Uncle Sam. Perhaps I ought not to
tell my experience. People generally are silent when they have to tell
anything to their own discredit. If I violate that rule, it will be to
put people on their guard. If I am wrong in doing so, I hope the rigid
moralist will skip this altogether.

Suddenly, a young man came rushing up to me, with a face beaming with
joy. "Good morning, Mr. ---," he exclaimed; "I am so glad we have