We passed out through the arched doorway, and Broadway was before
us. I had another thrill of distress--a vision of myself walking
down this crowded street with this extraordinary looking personage.
The crowds would stare at us, the street urchins would swarm about
us, until we blocked the traffic and the police ran us in! So I
thought, as we descended the steps and started; but my fear passed,
for we walked and no one followed us--hardly did anyone even turn
his eyes after us.

I realized in a little while how this could be. The pleasant climate
of Western City brings strange visitors to dwell here; we have
Hindoo swamis in yellow silk, and a Theosophist college on a
hill-top, and people who take up with "nature," and go about with
sandals and bare legs, and a mane of hair over their shoulders. I
pass them on the street now and then--one of them carries a
shepherd's crook! I remember how, a few years ago, my Aunt Caroline,
rambling around looking for something to satisfy her emotions, took
up with these queer ideas, and there came to her front door, to the
infinite bewilderment of the butler, a mild-eyed prophet in pastoral
robes, and with a little newspaper bundle in his hand. This, spread
out before my aunt, proved to contain three carrots and two onions,
carefully washed, and shining; they were the kindly fruits of the
earth, and of the prophet's own labor, and my old auntie was deeply
touched, because it appeared that this visitor was a seer, the sole
composer of a mighty tome which is to be found in the public
library, and is known as the "Eternal Bible."

So here I was, strolling along quite as a matter of course with my
strange acquaintance. I saw that he was looking about, and I
prepared for questions, and wondered what they would be. I thought