ropolitan--and Chartran, the celebrated painter, and the great
Ysaye and Bartholdi. And Paulus--Koster and Bial's first French
importation--to say nothing of Anna Held and Sandow!

A motley company enough, to be sure, and certainly one worthy to form
the nucleus of New York's Bohemia.

Says Mr. Martin: "The most interesting thing that ever happened in the
'Old Martin'? I can tell you that quite easily. It was the blizzard of
1888, when we were snowed in. The horse cars ran on University Place
then, the line terminating at Barclay Street. I have a picture of one
car almost snowed under, for the snow was fully six feet deep. It was
a Saturday night and very crowded. When it became time for the people
to go home they could not go. So they had to stay, and they stayed
three days. They slept on billiard tables, on the floor or where they
could. We did our best, but it was a big crowd. Interesting? It was
most interesting indeed to me, for I could get no milk. I could supply
them with all the wine they wanted, but no milk! And they demanded
milk for their coffee. Oh, that blizzard!"

Mr. Martin, in remembering interesting episodes, forgot that trifling
incident--the Spanish-American War, in 1898. Whether because of his
early connections with Panama (there were countless Spaniards and
Mexicans who patronised the hotel at that time) or whether because of
a national and political misunderstanding, he was justifiably and
seriously concerned as to the feeling of New York for the Hotel
Martin. Many good and wise persons expected France to side with Spain,
and many others watched curiously to see what Frenchmen in New York
would do.

Mr. Martin left them but a short time for speculation. Today, with our
streets aflutter with Allied colours, perhaps we fail to appreciate an
individual demonstration such as this--but at that time there were few
banners flying, and Mr. Martin led the patriotic movement with an
American flag in every one of the fifty windows of the Hotel Martin
and a French flag to top off the whole display! Perhaps it was the
first suggestion, in street decoration, of what has recently proved to
be so strong a bond between this nation and France.

If any of you who read have even begun to peer into Bohemian New York
you have undoubtedly visited the Lafayette as it is today. And, if
you have, you have undoubtedly seen or perhaps even played the
"Lafayette Game." It is a weird little game that is played for drinks,