taking up entirely new habits and environment. Ah, that would be an adventure!
I think I would emigrate to Franklin Square which, after all, is only a few blocks north of the territory where I oscillate every day; but it seems almost like a different continent. I would go up to Franklin Square, take a room at one of those theatrical lodging houses on the western side of the square, grow a beard, wear a wide sombrero hat, and keep my pockets full of sweetmeats for the children of the square. In the course of a few months quite a legend would accumulate about me. I would be pointed out as one of the characters of the neighborhood. Newspaper reporters would be sent to interview me. Then I would shave and move on to some other home.
Franklin Square is a jolly place on a warm day. There are red and pink geraniums round the pool in the middle. There is the drowsy whirr and hum of lawn mowers. There is a sweet, dull air moving gently across the wide grass plots; the flag waves heavily on the tall staff. There is a whole posse of baby carriages gathered together in a shady patch of pavement, with usually one small girl left to "mind" them while the other little guardians are sprinkling themselves with water at the stand-pipe, or playing hopscotch in the sun. You mind my baby and I'll mind yours, is the tacit understanding of these ragged little damsels. But, really it is surprising how little minding the Franklin Square babies seem to need. They lie in their car-
