The Kernan Hotel, which we visited
one night after the theater, looked like Broadway. Tables were crowded
together and there was dancing between them--and between mouthfuls. So,
too, at the Belvedere, which is used considerably by Baltimore's gay
and fashionable people.
My companion and I stayed at the Belvedere and found it a good hotel,
albeit one which has, I think, become a shade too well accustomed to
being called good. Perhaps because of a city ordinance, perhaps because
the waiters want to go to bed, they have a trick, in the Belvedere
dining-room, during the cold weather, of opening the windows and
freezing out such dilatory supper-guests as would fain sit up and talk.
This is a system even more effective than the ancient one of mopping up
the floors, piling chairs upon the tables, and turning out enough lights
to make the room dull. A good post-midnight conversationalist--and
Baltimore is not without them--can stand mops, buckets, and dim lights,
but turn cold drafts upon his back and he gives up, sends for his coat,
buttons it about his paunch and goes sadly home.
It is fitting that last of all should be mentioned the man who views you
with keen eye as you arrive in Baltimore, and who watches you depart. If
you are in Baltimore he knows it. And when you go away he knows that,
too.
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