"Brook" and the "Charge of the
Light Brigade," Burke's "Speech on Conciliation," "Alice in Wonderland,"
the "Pickwick Papers," the Gettysburg Address, Darwin's "Origin of
Species," and Mr. Dooley.

XIII

ON LIVING IN BROOKLYN

Perhaps the principal charm about living in Brooklyn lies in the fact
that strangers can find their way there only with extreme difficulty.
The streets in Brooklyn are to me a perpetual source of joy and
wonderment. Like the city itself, they have kept the slow-paced habits
of a former age. No city is more easy to be lost in, and Brooklyn is at
all times full of people from across the river, who ask the way to
Borough Hall. For that matter, one may easily be lost on Staten Island,
where the inhabitants are reputed to pass the pleasant summer evenings
in guiding strangers to the trolley lines. But a person naturally
expects to lose his bearings on Staten Island. On the other hand, to be
lost in Brooklyn irritates as well as confuses. It is like starving in
the midst of plenty. One always has the choice of half a dozen surface
cars, but one is always sure to be directed to the wrong one.

So I repeat: Brooklyn's tangled streets serve their highest purpose in
safeguarding its inhabitants against the unwelcome visitor. Because of
our American good nature we are always inviting people to call; and when
they accept we immediately feel sorry. It is a law with us that if two
utterly unsympathetic persons meet by chance at the house of a common
friend, they shall insist on having each other to dinner on the
following two Sundays. Or, again, you may be shaking hands with a very
dear friend in the presence of a third person whom you dislike. And you
are extremely anxious to have your friend come up for tea on Sunday,
and you cannot do it without asking the other man.

Under such circumstances, it is well to live in Brooklyn. All you need
say then to the person you have an aversion for is: "I should be
delighted to have you call on us Sunday afternoon. We live in Brooklyn,
you know, at No. 125 Bowdoin Place." You may then go home in peace,
confident that your undesired visitor will never find you. At eight
o'clock on Sunday night he will be wearily asking a policeman on
Flatbush Avenue what the shortest way is to Borough Hall. Long before
that he will have given up hope of finding No. 125 Bowdoin Place. His
only object is to get home before midnight. Now it is plain that such an
excellent defenc