M.," which we had
hunted in vain in these parts. The only other book that caught our
eye particularly was a copy of "Patrins," by Louise Guiney, which we
saw a lady carrying on the campus of the University of Pennsylvania.
But perhaps New York exerts its own fascination upon Philadelphians,
too. For when we returned we selfishly persuaded a friend of ours to
ride with us on the train so that we might imbibe some of his ripe
orotund philosophy, which we had long been deprived of. He is a
merciless Celt, and all the way over he preached us a cogent sermon
on our shortcomings and backslidings. Faithful are the wounds of a
friend, and it was nice to know that there was still someone who
cared enough for us to give us a sound cursing. Between times, while
we were catching breath, he expatiated upon the fact that New York
is death and damnation to the soul; but when we got to Manhattan
Transfer he suddenly abandoned his intended plan of there catching
the next train back to the land of Penn. A curious light began to
gleam in his mild eyes; he settled his hat firmly upon his head and
strode out into the Penn Station. "I think I'll go out and look
round a bit," he said. We wonder whether he has gone back yet?
II
The other day we had a chance to go to Philadelphia in the right
way--by the Reading, the P. and R., the Peaceful and Rapid. As one
of our missions in life is to persuade New York and Philadelphia to
love one another, we will tell you about it.
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