THE WANDERING DOG
BOOK ONE: MY LIFE IN THE CITY
CHAPTER I
I SEEK AND FIND A FRIEND
A few months ago, I came in the course of my wanderings, to the city of New York. My! My! how the big city has grown since I was here a few years ago.
I entered it by way of a ferry-boat from Jersey City. Then I scampered up past City Hall, the Hotel de Gink, and the Tombs to the Bowery.
Of course, the first thing was to make a friend. I chose a solemn-looking bulldog, sitting round the corner from a saloon whose huge, bulging window looked like a big eye staring down the street. The dog, who was brindle in colour, and had a tremendous head, sat tight up against the wall, and was keeping a wary eye out for something, I know not what.
“Good afternoon,” I said politely, and not going too close to him.
“How d’ye do,” he said morosely. Then he looked up at the elevated.