"Now, Mr. Denmead," said Colonel Manysnifters, turning to another representative of the press, "it's your turn. Let us have it good and strong. I have read your East Side Sketches, and like 'em immensely. Can't you give us a touch of New York in yours?" "I'll try," said Denmead modestly, "though it isn't exactly a story. It was just a passing incident, but it was something that I will not soon forget. An affair of that kind is apt to make more or less of an impression on a fellow. Maybe you will agree with me." XI WHAT HAPPENED TO DENMEAD "Several years ago I found myself in New York; penniless, weary, and heartsick. I wandered one morning into a tiny park, mouldering in the shadow of the huge skyscrapers with which Manhattan is everywhere defaced. I sank upon a bench, pulled a soiled newspaper from my pocket, and scanned for the fiftieth time the 'Help Wanted' columns. Work I wanted of any kind, and work of any kind had eluded my tireless search for days--ever since my arrival in New York. The benches about me were filled with bleary, unshaven men; some asleep, others trying hard to keep awake; each clutching a paper which presently it seemed they might devour, goat-like, in sheer hunger. The stamp of cruel want convulsed each hopeless face, and crowsfeet lines of despair lay as a delta beneath each fishy eye. About us in all directions towered huge monuments of apoplectic wealth--teeming hives, draining the honey from each bee, tearing from thousands their best years, their finest endeavors, their very hearts' blood--all to swell the wealth of a bloated few! And we, the drones, sat mildewing in the little open space below! "The man next to me, his head hanging over the back of the bench in ghastly jointlessness, awoke with a snort, stared about him stupidly, and something like a sob bubbled up from his Adam-appled throat. He wiped his eyes with the back of a grimy paw, and diving into a greasy pocket pulled out a short black pipe. Between consoling puffs he jerked out, 'A man's a damn fool--a damn fool, I say, to come to New York to look for a job! That's why _you_ are here. Oh, I know. I can tell. You're a stranger all right; that's easy to see. You look the part.' "'That's so,' said I, 'and worse. I am about down and out. Financially, I stand exactly twenty-one--no--twenty-three cents to the good.'