"Last night I put all my money but nine dollars under a corner of the carpet and started out. I had along a bill-of-fare of this here Tenderloin; it said it begins at Fourteenth Street and runs to Forty-second, with Fourth Avenue and Seventh on each side of it. Well, I started up from Fourteenth so I wouldn't miss any of it. Lots of people was travellin' on the streets in a hurry. Thinks I, the Tenderloin's sizzlin' tonight; if I don't hurry I won't get a seat at the performance. "Most of the crowd seemed to be goin' up and I went up. And then they seemed to be goin' down, and I went down. I asks a man in a light overcoat with a blue jaw leanin' against a lamppost where was this Tenderloin. "Up that way," he says, wavin' his finger-ring. "'How'll I know it when I get to it?' I asks. "'Yah!' says he, like he was sick. 'Easy! Youse'll see a flax-headed cull stakin' a doll in a 98-cent shirtwaist to a cheese sandwich and sarsaparilla, and five Salvation Army corporals waitin' round for de change. Dere'll be a phonograph playin' and nine cops gettin' ready to raid de joint. Dat'll be it.' "I asked that fellow where I was then. "'Two blocks from de Pump,' says he. "I goes on uptown, and seein' nothin' particular in the line of sinful delight, I strikes 'crosstown to another avenue. That was Sixth, I reckon. People was still walkin' up and down, puttin' first one foot in front and then the other in the irreligious and wicked manner that I suppose has given the Tenderloin its frivolous reputation. Street cars was runnin' past, most impious and unregenerate; and the profligate Dagoes was splittin' chestnuts to roast with a wild abandon that reminded me considerably of doings in Paris, France. The dissipated bootblacks was sleepin' in their chairs, and the roast peanut whistles sounded gay and devilish among the mad throng that leaned ag'inst the awnin' posts. "A fellow with a high hat and brass buttons gets down off the top of his covered sulky, and says to me, 'Keb, sir?' "'Whereabouts is this Tenderloin, Colonel?' I asks. "'You're right in the centre of it, boss,' says he. 'You are standin' right now on the wickedest corner in New York. Not ten feet from here a pushcart man had his pocket picked last night; and if you're here for a week I can show you at least two moonlight trolley parties go by on the New Amsterdam line.' "'Look here,' says I, 'I'm out for a razoo. I've got nine iron medallions of Liberty wearin' holes in my pocket linin'. I want to split this Tenderloin in two if there's anything in it. Now put me on to something that's real degraded and boisterous and sizzling with cultured and uproarious sin. Something in the way of metropolitan vice that I can be proud of when I go back home. Ain't you got any civic pride about you?' "This sulky driver scratched the heel of his chin.