was easy. We could purchase a doughnut and a cup of coffee almost
anywhere, or we could eat a sandwich in the park, but the matter of a
bed, the business of sleeping in a maelstrom like New York was something
more than serious--it was dangerous. Frank, naturally of a more prodigal
nature, was all for going to the Broadway Hotel. "It's only for one
night," said he. He always was rather careless of the future!

I reminded him that we still had Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington
to "do" and every cent must be husbanded--so we moved along toward Union
Square with the question of a hotel still undecided, our arms aching
with fatigue. "If only we could get rid of these awful bags," moaned
Frank.

To us Broadway was a storm, a cyclone, an abnormal unholy congestion of
human souls. The friction of feet on the pavement was like the hissing
of waves on the beach. The passing of trucks jarred upon our ears like
the sevenfold thunders of Patmos, but we kept on, shoulder to shoulder,
watchful, alert, till we reached Union Square, where with sighs of deep
relief we sank upon the benches along with the other "rubes" and
"jay-hawkers" lolling in sweet repose with weary soles laxly turned to
the kindly indiscriminating breeze.

The evening was mild, the scene enthralling, and we would have been
perfectly happy but for the deeply disturbing question of a bed.
Franklin, resting upon my resourceful management, made no motion even
when the sun sank just about where that Venetian fronted building now
stands, but whilst the insolent, teeming populace in clattering carts
and drays charged round our peaceful sylvan haven (each driver plying
the lash with the fierce aspect of a Roman charioteer) I rose to a
desperate mission.

With a courage born of need I led the way straight toward the basement
portal of a small brown hotel on Fourth Avenue, and was startled almost
into flight to find myself in a bar-room. Not knowing precisely how to
retreat, I faltered out, "Have you a bed for us?"

It is probable that the landlord, a huge foreign-looking man understood
our timidity--at any rate, he smiled beneath his black mustache and
directed a clerk to show us a room.

In charge of this man, a slim youth, with a very bad complexion, we
climbed a narrow stairway (which grew geometrically shabbier as we rose)
until, at last, we came into a room so near the roof that it could
afford only half-windows--but as we were getting the chamber at
half-pr