on Ben Franklin's tomb I can't read it. And as there are usually some young ladies sitting knitting on the bench by the grave I am too bashful to do that. But if I lived in Franklin Square I would find a way somehow.
But much as I love it, I doubt if I could live in Franklin Square long. There is an air of unrest about it, of vagabond whimsy. The short-skirted ladies would come and go, and sooner or later the bearded recluse, with his pocket full of candy, and his sombrero hat, would disappear and only the children would lament his going. For I know that if I were a wandering blade I could never resist a summons like this, which I found posted up just off the square. Here speak Romance and Adventure, with golden lute:
MEN WANTED TO TRAVEL
WITH R———'S CIRCUS
A CHANCE TO SEE THE COUNTRY
EXCELLENT BOARD AND COMFORTABLE
SLEEPING CARS PROVIDED BY THE MANAGEMENT
