There are certain things which must be done, to yield their best, when
one is young. For one thing, there is only one time in life to run away
to sea. If you did not run away to sea when you were a lad, it is too
late now for you to get any sport out of it. 'Tis something the same
with living in a garret or in a hall bedroom. If you did not read
"Robinson Crusoe" when you were a boy there is no use for you to read it
now; you will not understand it. There are some other things you can
enjoy when you are old--grandchildren, for instance. But the time to
come up to a great city is when one is young. The time to walk up
Broadway at night, and feel a gusto about it, and Fifth Avenue by day,
is when one is young. That is an enchanted time, when it is a fine
dashing thing to be doing, to live at a second-rate boarding house; when
discouragement is adventure; when it is worth while even to be poor;
when one makes life-long friends at sight; when young love is sipped;
when courage is ever stout in one's breast; when one's illusions are
virgin yet; and all's right with the world. At that season one can swell
with a rich personal pride in "Shanley's" and, almost at the same time,
eat one's own theatre supper in a "Dairy Lunch" room, where every
customer is his own waiter as well, and where his table is the broadened
arm of his chair against the wall.
Richard Day, student at the law, munched his egg sandwich (egg sandwich
was the favorite dish at the "Dairy Lunches" until eggs got so high) and
drank his coffee from a cup that remarkably resembled in shape a shaving
mug and was decorated in similar fashion. The blocks of sugar (two for
Richard) for this stimulating beverage (made out of chicory) were taken
by the customer with his fingers from a heaping-full sort of great
punch-bowl mounted on a pedestal in the middle of the room. It was drawn
from a nickel-plated engine with glass tubes by a young man in a white
coat like a barber's, who served it, with crullers, piece of pie, or
sandwich, across a kind of little bar at the rear end of the long room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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