Not being able, apparently, to make him understand that he was a stranger, unacquainted with the city, he presently settled on the charge, bundled in, and ordered to be taken to the best colored neighborhood, and in a few minutes he was being trundled on his way. They turned into a street, after a block or two, that happened to be one end of the leading business thoroughfare. On a corner post, Sidney read Walthill. The cab took him up this street, surrounded on either side with the many busy shops and people, and it continued until a viaduct was reached. Attalia's broadway was just ahead. It was a wide street, and yet not wide enough. It had been made wider recently, and in making it so, the sidewalks had perforce been made narrower. They had not been sufficiently wide before, and now this threw many pedestrians into the street, where they walked along much slower than in Cincinnati even. As the cab rolled along, Sidney observed that the street was considerably wider after some distance, and this was the business section. To the right and to the left, in fact in every direction, buildings, brick and stone, concrete, stucco and an occasional frame, stood, here low, there high, and still higher, even to twenty stories. As he looked, the setting sun played subtly about the topmost peaks. Presently, the cab turned into Audubon Avenue. This street sloped down hill for many blocks, and when the cab had made its abrupt turn further on, Sidney observed a large, red, brick building with stone cornices rising skyward. Adjoining this, he caught a glimpse of the outline of still another building, apparently unfinished. Strangely enough, he felt this to be the property of black people. On down the street the cab rolled. It was a street quite wide enough, and paved in part with cobble stones, and further on with asphalt. Glancing from right to left, as he proceeded, he saw that it was given over largely to business conducted by Negroes, Jews, Italians and Greeks. Presently, his wandering gaze took in the proportions of a small book shop, before which stood a tall, lean Negro, whom he surmised rightly to be the proprietor. In the window, displayed conspicuously and artistically, were numerous books by Negro authors which he had read, and, of course, some he had not.