Having become somewhat confused as to my bearings on this particular occasion, I thought to make inquiries of a slab-sided youth, who leaned on a fence and sucked at a straw meditatively. "I say, my good fellow, am I on the right road to Jericho?" I asked, with my most patronizing smile. He surveyed me a minute and then said slowly: "Ya-as, stranger, but I kinder reckon you're goin' in the wrong direcshun." Say, as I was walking along Sixth Avenue a man thumped me on the back and yelled out: "Sure, Michael, ye're the broth av a bhoy. Len' me ten." And I did; I couldn't refuse it. That's like the Irish; they're so hearty and will share your last cent. [Illustration] There's one bright Irishman that I'm greatly interested in. Terence Sullivan came over here with the idea that he could pick up money in the streets; and sure enough the first day he landed he found a nice new ten-dollar bill on one of the seats in Battery Park. Since then he's gone on doing well. Sullivan was never much of a reader, and I had often wondered at this until on a certain occasion he gave his prejudice an airing. "And faith," said he, "Oi don't see the since in noospapers. They kin only print what's already happened." As affairs prospered with the honest fellow, like all true-hearted Irishmen, he must needs send for the mother, and install her in a comfortable home. I remember meeting the old lady once, and under conditions that often make me smile. I had a friend, a lawyer, who had an office away up in one of the skyscrapers downtown, and here Mrs. Sullivan, after much persuasion, had been induced to come and pay her rent. The lawyer's office was on one of the upper floors of a large office building. After the rent had been paid and the receipt given, the old woman was shown out into the hallway by the office boy. [Illustration] I found her in the hallway a few minutes later, when I chanced along. She was wandering about opening doors and otherwise acting in a strange manner. "What are you looking for?" I asked. "Shure," she said, in her simplicity, "I'm lookin' for the little closet I came up in." I suppose you will believe me when I tell you that my theatrical ventures have frequently brought me in contact with ripe episodes that impressed themselves strongly upon my memory. Sometimes they were too ripe, and gave occasion for much toil ere they could be wholly eradicated from my unfortunate coat. [Illustration] I long ago lost my taste for eggs in any shape. On a barn-storming crusade with a small show, I remember, at an afternoon rehearsal, the flute player in the orchestra made me nervous by playing off key. After vainly endeavoring to correct the man, I lost my temper and exclaimed: "Cut out the flute for goodness' sake!" Thereupon the musician arose with fire in his eye. "Oh! you want to get rid of the flute, do you?" he asked. "Yes," I drawled carelessly, "I guess we'll get along all right without your assistance."