Dust of New York
When Ferenczy entered the café there were two different
Luleika and old Kurguz walked in Washington Street
"Little Father, your pulse is wonderful to-day"
DUST OF NEW YORK
THERESA THE VAMP
New York is an orchestra playing a symphony. If you hear the part
of only one instrument—first violin or oboe, 'cello or French
horn—it is incongruous. To understand the symphony you must
hear all the instruments playing together, each its own part, to the
invisible baton of that great conductor, Father Time.
But the symphony is heard only very rarely. Most of the time New
York is tuning up. Each voice is practising its pa rt of the score—
the little solos for the violins to please the superficial
sentimentalists, and the twenty bars for the horn to satisfy the
martial spirit in men.
But don't, oh sightseers, don't think you know New York because
you have sauntered through a few streets and eaten hot tamales in a
Mexican restaurant, or burnt your tongue with goulash in some
"celebrated Hungarian palace." Only to very few privileged ones is
it given to hear the symphony—and they have to pay dearly for it.
But it is worth the price.