the demand did not exist, the supply would quickly cease, and this demand is clear evidence of small-mindedness, which is thoroughly inconsistent with the manner in which the New Yorker conducts his business.

There are two things which I imagine all New Yorkers-in fact, all Americans would be glad to see done. One is the overhauling of the postal arrangements with a view. to expediting the delivery of parcels, samples, and newspapers; the other, the taking over by the government of the telegraphic companies, thus ensuring the initiation of a better and cheaper system of telegraphing by incorporating them into a State concern as much as is the postoffice.

In the matter of household-perhaps I should say "flathold"-conveniences, New York is a long way ahead of London. But then the demands for such conveniences are, also. The Englishman likes his old ways, though all the time he is well aware of the new ones, for, whether they seem a little bit antiquated or not, they are comfortable and thorough, and there is something about them with which he very loth to part.

is

The "huge store in London, which charges 5 a year for permission to buy its goods," is, I presume, the Army and Navy Stores in Victoria street. As a matter of fact, I believe the charge is 5/- the first year and half a crown each succeeding year. This charge, of course, is made to keep it select, and its always crowded state shows how necessary such a charge is. Besides, before the subscription is ac

cepted, it is necessary to be introduced by a member.

I cannot refrain from making one more comparison (and I do not want to do so odiously) between London. and New York. I refer to the police force. First, to the manner in which the traffic in crowded streets is managed. In London, the methods and power of the police are perfect. A hand held up by a constable is sufficient, and every constable knows exactly which hand to hold up, and when. He seems to act, as it were, by magic, and the enormous traffic flows quietly and constantly along. In New York, the police, apparently, with one or two honorable exceptions, take no notice of the traffic. They treat it with the contempt they seem to think it deserves. There is some endeavor made to regulate things at Fifth avenue and Fortysecond street, but it is very primitive, and many a risk is run there every day by the unfortunate public. Then in the appearance of the force there is no comparison. The London constable is trim, spruce, and well-drilled. The New York constable looks too fat and well-fed, and is generally to be seen talking, or chaffing a friend, or reading a newspaper-occasionally slipping out of the side-door of a saloon. I saw two New York policemen the other evening at 5:50 o'clock, when traffic is almost at its heaviest, at the back of the general postoffice with their batons carefully drawn (why do they march about at night with their truncheons ready for action, as though in constant fear of attack?) but reading a newspaper, and I stood for a moment

and watched them discussing its contents. A London policeman would as soon think of cutting off his hand as reading a newspaper while on duty. Colonel Partridge, the new Chief Commissioner, has his work cut out, I fancy, to lick his fellows into shape. There is not the least doubt New York can teach London many things,

and I hope London will learn and adopt several. But my principal desire is, while recognizing and applauding all that is good, ingenious, and upto-date in New York, to impress the fact upon many who are laboring now under a delusion, that London is by no means the antiquated laggard so many people seem to think she is.

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FTER having lunch and a short rest, I moved on toward Clark, twelve miles east. I arrived there about five o'clock in the evening. The little town was in a bad way. There had been a fire the night before, and most of the business section had been destroyed. The inhabitants seemed depressed, but nevertheless active, and temporary structures were being erected. None of the hotels had been destroyed, so I went to the nearest one for my supper and lodging.

After supper I visited a barber shop, something I had not been inside of before since leaving Cheyenne. In fact, I had been wearing my face a la hobo, a style which might be becoming to a comedian in a burlesque, but not to me. Indeed, I looked like a suspicious character, and might have been taken

for either a train robber or an anarchist. Then, too, for one who was traveling on his nerve, as I was, and depending on his ability to work his way without doing anybody, I could not afford to look other than honest. And I certainly looked anything but that until the barber got through with me. After thus sacrificing my several weeks' growth of beard, I went back to my room and turned in for the night. I had previously left word at the office to be awakened at six o'clock, so as to get an early start for the next

town.

The next morning, after breakfast, found me on the tracks, making my way toward Silver Creek, eleven miles east. My idea was to make Columbus that day, twenty-nine miles from Clark, where I intended to stop for the

night. I reached Silver Creek about half-past ten.

While in a grocery store, where I went to buy some fruit, I found out from the clerk that a Dutch farmer, one of his customers, who lived six miles due east of there, was in town, and was going home in about half an hour. The clerk said the farmer had his team tied up in front of the store, and that he would be around in a few minutes, for he had just gone to the butcher shop, and if I wanted a ride he no doubt would take me as far as he was going. So I waited, and when the farmer returned I asked him if he would give me a lift. He said I could go along with him, and that he was very glad to have company.

We were soon on our way. The old farmer was quite interesting. He told me he had been out in Nebraska twenty-seven years, and that he had relatives in South Africa. Several of them, he said, were in the Boer army, and he corresponded with some of them, though they were several thousand miles apart. I asked him if he had any of the stamps that came on the letters, and if he had, would he give me some for a friend of mine in New York, who had a collection of stamps of all countries, especially South African stamps. He said if I would go up to his house with him he would gladly give me some, for they were of no use to him.

It was about half-past twelve when we got to his place. He invited me to stop and have dinner with him, as it was already waiting. He then introduced me to his wife, a pleasant lady

of about fifty-eight, and while we were eating, his son came in, a big, healthy, strapping fellow about twenty-one years old. We soon finished dinner, and then the old gentleman got out the envelopes I had asked him for and told me to help myself to the stamps. I selected one of each kind, among them being several of the earlier issues of the South African Republic, which were very scarce. I told him that some of the stamps were rare, but he said he did not care what they were worth, that I was welcome to them. After chatting awhile with him I prepared to continue my journey. I bade him good-bye, with many thanks for his kindness, and soon found myself on the tracks again.

Being well rested and refreshed, I started off at a brisk trot for Duncan, a small place five miles further east. It is a Polish settlement, and contains three stores, a small hotel over one of them, and about forty houses. If I had not known that I was in Nebraska I would have thought that I was in Poland, for I could count on one hand all the people that I heard speak English, Polish being almost universally used there.

While resting on the platform of the railroad station, a man in a sulky drove up. He asked me if I would not call the station agent for him, as he said he was a cattleman and was going to ship some cattle that night to Omaha, and wanted to see him in regard to it. After he got through with his business with the station agent, I asked him if he was going on to Columbus would he let me ride with

lish. They wanted to know if I saw any of their people in the different towns I passed through; how many miles it was to Omaha, Chicago, and several other places, and many other questions of a similar nature.

I forgot to mention that while at Clark I heard of a band of gypsies who were arrested in a town north of there for stealing, and that the farmers of the locality were very bitter against gypsies, for many of the former were losing poultry, pigs, and various other movable farm assets.

I told these gypsies that and cautioned them to be careful and not get into any trouble of that kind, for the people in the section of the country that they were in would stand no nonsense from them. Then, to stretch things a little, as well as to give them a scare, I told them if they were caught in any dishonest act that they were liable to be lynched, and explained to them as near as I could make them understand what lynching

was.

I then left them and struck out again for Schuyler, reaching that place about half-past twelve o'clock.

After dinner I again pushed forward, bound for North Bend, sixtyfour miles west of Omaha, where I in

tended to pass the night. I reached there about seven o'clock, had my supper, and turned in to sleep.

Bright and early next morning I was on my way to Ames, eight miles nearer Omaha. It was somewhere near Ames that I had the misfortune to lose my insurance papers and some letters, as well as the South African postage stamps I had got for a friend in New York.

Ten o'clock found me at Ames, where I took a short rest. I then started for Fremont, seven miles further east. It was close on to one o'clock when I arrived there.

After a hearty lunch and an hour's rest I struck out for Valley, my next night's resting place. I reached Valley about six o'clock, and, as usual, after dinner immediately went to bed.

This portion of the trip between Columbus and Omaha was devoid of any incident worthy of mention, so, in order to hasten on to more interesting experiences, I will simply say I arrived in Omaha about eleven o'clock in the morning a day or two later, with $12.10 in my pocket, and congratulated myself on making five hundred and nineteen miles of my journey without accident or sickness.