t, and Pop keeps the door locked in order to
keep out the objectionable people that cause the wardmen's visits. He
says so. The cooking stove is located in the main room of the
restaurant, and it is placed in such a strategic manner that it occupies
about all the space that is not already occupied by a table, a bench,
and two chairs. The table will, on a pinch, furnish room for the plates
of two people if they are willing to crowd. Pop says he is the best cook
in the world.

When questioned concerning the present condition of the lane, Pop said:
"Quiet! Quiet! Lo'd save us, maybe it ain't. Quiet! Quiet!" His emphasis
was arranged crescendo, until the last word was really a vocal
explosion. "Why, dish er' lane ain't nohow like what it uster be--no,
indeed it ain't. No, sir. 'Deed it ain't. Why, I kin remember when dey
was a-cuttin' an' a-slashin' long yere all night. 'Deed dey wos. My-my,
dem times was different. Dat der Kent, he kep' de place at Green Gate
cou't down yer ol' Mammy's--an' he was a hard baby--'deed he was--an'
ol' Black-Cat an' ol' Bloodthirsty, dey was a-comin' round yere
a-cuttin', an' a-slashin', an' a-cuttin', an' a-slashin'. Didn't dar'
say boo to a goose in dose days, dat you didn't, less'n you lookin' fer
a scrap. No, sir." Then he gave information concerning his own prowess
at that time. Pop is about as tall as a picket of an undersized fence.
"But dey didn't have nothin' ter say ter me. No, sir, 'deed dey didn't.
I would lay down fer none of 'em. No, sir. Dey knew my gait, 'deed dey
did. Man, man, many's de time I buck up agin 'em."

At this time Pop had three customers in his place, one asleep on the
bench, one asleep on two chairs, and one asleep on the floor behind the
stove.

But there is one who lends dignity of the real bevel-edged type to
Minetta Lane, and that man is Hank Anderson. Hank, of course, does not
live in the lane, but the shadows of his social perfections fall upon it
as refreshingly as a morning dew.

Hank gave a dance twice in each week at a hall hard by in M'Dougall
Street, and the dusky aristocracy of the neighbourhood know their
guiding beacon. Moreover, Hank holds an annual ball in Forty-fourth
Street. Also, he gives a picnic each year to the Montezuma Club, when he
again appears as a guiding beacon. This picnic is usually held on a
barge, and the excursion is a very joyous one. Some years ago it
required the entire reserve squad of an up-town police precinct to
prop