was a three days' journey away, through a hostile country. And
yet I had been walking only twenty minutes! I regained Fifth with
relief, and had learned a lesson. In future, if asked how many avenues
there are in New York I would insist that there are three: Lexington,
Madison, and Fifth.

* * * * *

The chief characteristic of Broadway is its interminability. Everybody
knows, roughly, where it begins, but I doubt if even the topographical
experts of Albany know just where it ends. It is a street that inspires
respect rather than enthusiasm. In the daytime all the uptown portion of
it--and as far down-town as Ninth Street--has a provincial aspect. If
Fifth Avenue is metropolitan and exclusive, Broadway is not. Broadway
lacks distinction, it lacks any sort of impressiveness, save in its
first two miles, which do--especially the southern mile--strike you with
a vague and uneasy awe. And it was here that I experienced my keenest
disappointment in the United States.

[Illustration: A BUSY DAY ON THE CURB MARKET]

I went through sundry disappointments. I had expected to be often asked
how much I earned. I never was asked. I had expected to be often
informed by casual acquaintances of their exact income. Nobody, save an
interviewer or so and the president of a great trust, ever passed me
even a hint as to the amount of his income. I had expected to find an
inordinate amount of tippling in clubs and hotels. I found, on the
contrary, a very marked sobriety. I had expected to receive many hard
words and some insolence from paid servants, such as train-men,
tram-men, lift-boys, and policemen. From this class, as from the others,
I received nothing but politeness, except in one instance. That
instance, by the way, was a barber in an important hotel, whom I had
most respectfully requested to refrain from bumping my head about.
"Why?" he demanded. "Because I've got a headache," I said. "Then why
didn't you tell me at first?" he crushed me. "Did you expect me to be a
thought-reader?" But, indeed, I could say a lot about American barbers.
I had expected to have my tempting fob snatched. It was not snatched. I
had expected to be asked, at the moment of landing, for my mature
opinion of the United States, and again at intervals of about a quarter
of an hour, day and night, throughout my stay. But I had been in America
at least ten days before the question was put to me, even in jest. I had
expected to