story of the Abdication of Constantine for five dollars.
They say they know it, and knew it before it happened.
I have offered, for little more than a nominal sum, to
blacken the character of every reigning family in Germany.
I am told that it is not necessary.

Meantime, as it is impossible to return to Central Europe,
I expect to open either a fruit store or a peanut stand
very shortly in this great metropolis. I imagine that
many of my former colleagues will soon be doing the same!




II. Father Knickerbocker: A Fantasy

It happened quite recently--I think it must have been on
April the second of 1917--that I was making the long
pilgrimage on a day-train from the remote place where I
dwell to the city of New York. And as we drew near the
city, and day darkened into night, I had fallen to reading
from a quaint old copy of Washington Irving's immortal
sketches of Father Knickerbocker and of the little town
where once he dwelt.

I had picked up the book I know not where. Very old it
apparently was and made in England. For there was pasted
across the fly-leaf of it an extract from some ancient
magazine or journal of a century ago, giving what was
evidently a description of the New York of that day.