“You won’t if you try not to, Roy. But you may if you don’t. You know eternal vigilance is the price of liberty. And that applies to mental liberty as well as political.”
They walked slowly back to the ship, passing again through the lower end of the down-town Italian district. Roy was instantly attracted by the names on the shop fronts and the objects offered for sale, particularly the oddly-shaped and highly-colored candies and pastry.
“My, but there are a lot of Italians here,” said Roy. “Almost enough to make a city by themselves.”
The purser smiled. “Do you know what is the largest Italian city in the world, Roy?” he asked.
“Rome, I suppose,” answered Roy.
“New York City,” said the purser. “There are more Italians here than Rome or any other city in Italy ever saw at one time.”
Roy expressed his surprise.
“And there are more Jews here than ever inhabited Jerusalem,” continued the purser. “New York has more than 7,000,000 population—more people than most of our states contain—and among those millions are a great number of colonies of foreigners, each large enough to make a good-sized city. Some day we’ll make a trip through the Italian sections and try some Italian cooking.”
“Fine,” said Roy. “That’ll be my treat.”
When they reached the ship the purser said good-night. Roy went to the wireless house and caught the weather-report and listened to some of the messages scudding through the air. But when he was ready to retire he was as wide-awake as he would have been at noon, although it was past midnight. The unaccustomed amount of tea he had drunk had made him sleepless. It was a beautiful, warm June night, and Roy went out and sat on the deck to watch the stars and the twinkling lights ashore and in the harbor.