Across the street is the old Coe’s Book Store, owned by some descendant of the original Coe family. There is, as of old, a great counter of magazines, some of them better, some of them rawer than the old list. Many of them are now published in Springfield or near by. The majority of the motion picture magazines are full of simpering photographs of Los Angeles ladies in bathing suits. They are, of course, delightful to behold but the mystery still remains as to what this has to do with the art of the motion picture. Of the literary magazines, the _Atlantic Monthly_ and _Poetry_, a _Magazine of Verse_, still survive. The _Atlantic_ still keeps its brick red cover and its nippy New England style and _Poetry_ still has Pegasus on the cover and new poets on the inside. _Vogue_ and _Vanity Fair_ are still for sale. I wander out and watch the Fifth and Monroe crowd again. It is Saturday, nine o’clock in the evening, and the automobile horns are deafening and the crossing policeman is quite busy. And now I have gone to a good old slapstick movie, by a descendant of Charlie Chaplin, and I am standing again on the corner and it is half past ten. Many people are looking up at the passing figures in the dance hall in the third story over the theatre. Windows are open and wild Singaporian music pours out into the streets. There are great yellow Singaporian lanterns hanging in front of the open windows and yellower light is pouring from the hall itself. It is one of the chain of Yellow dance halls in the syndicate owned by Kusuko and part of his political machine, along with his chain of Coffee houses. This particular place is called “The Hall of Velaska.” There was a man who sat by me in the movie laughing like a boy. He is now beside me again. He is a gigantic black haired but aged Jew, obviously the Rabbi Terence Ezekiel, heretic, and planter of the Oaks of Springfield. He is in most matters a henchman of Boone and a political “scrapper,” whose deeds have set the town ringing. We are friends in a minute. He has seen me with Avanel in his synagogue—takes me as a matter of course, asks me to go with him to the Tom Strong Coffee House and Restaurant, just east of the Gaiety Theatre. There we encounter Boone and the over-sensitive quivering Joseph Bartholdi Michael, the Third. They are enjoying eleven o’clock salt mackerel together. They take along with it the knockout coffee of Kusuko, who owns all the coffee houses under whatever name, new or old. And so the Rabbi and I join in these refreshments and have a jolly midnight with the heart of political and educational Springfield and, as long as the Rabbi leads the argument, there is more than enough wit in the assembly. He has the Jewish turn for puns and it is plain that Doctor Mayo Sims and Kopensky have a second laughing foeman.