wer flashed the hour of midnight.

As I let myself in, it occurred to me that Mr. Carville would be
walking to and fro, smoking a meditative pipe beneath the stars, his
thoughts, no doubt, flying westward like enigmatic night-birds, and
hovering above the home towards which he was speeding.

CHAPTER XIV

DISCUSSION

One of the immemorial customs of New York, whenever a stranger arrives
from across the sea, should he by any chance have ever done anything,
anywhere, is to give him a show. When you understand the root-principle
of this practice, you are on the way to understanding New York, and
incidentally, America. For in spite of many cynical arguments to the
contrary, I remain satisfied that New York is, after all, part of the
United States. Just as Broadway is a rather over-illuminated Main
Street, so the metropolitan press is a highly concentrated Local
Interest. You arrive on an ocean liner instead of on the Limited, but
the principle is the same. You come from foreign parts, from effete
Europe; you are a distinguished stranger, and everybody, in the person
of their press, turns out to stare and cheer and find out your opinion
of our glorious country. It is true that, after a few days of
embarrassing publicity, your photograph vanishes from the daily sheets,
your hotel ceases to be besieged by public emissaries asking your
opinion of Mr. Roosevelt, Baked Beans or Twilight Sleep; you discover
(with a pang) that you are forgotten, and a French Scientist or an
Italian Futurist, or a Russian Nihilist has taken your place. But that,
after all, may be the extent of your merits. You have had your show.
New York has given your hand a jovial, welcome squeeze. The most
hospitable hosts cannot forever regard you as a new arrival. You pass
on, and others take the floor in the spot-light and register surprise,
pleasure, indignation, criticism or whatever their peculiar talent may
dictate. And this custom of the town is not at all comparable with the
reception accorded St. Paul when he arrived at Athens and found the
citizens of that republic hankering after some new thing. It is at the
other end of the scale of human motives. It is the curiosity and
enthusiasm of youth rather than the prurience of age. It is, in its way,
a test of character. You may have weathered adversity with credit. New
York will see how you behave in prosperity. I often suspect the headline
which says that So-and-So won't talk, to cover a good d