Also, during racing season, he knows whether you bet, and whether
you won or lost. He is always at the station and always at the race
track, and if you don't belong in Baltimore he is aware of it the
instant he sets eyes upon you, because he knows every man, woman, child,
and dog in Baltimore, and they all know him. If you are a Baltimorean
you are already aware that I refer to the sapient McNeal, policeman at
the Union Station.
McNeal and Cardinal Gibbons are, I take it, the two preeminent figures
of the city. Their duties, I admit, are not alike, but each performs his
duties with discretion, with devotion, with distinction. The latter has
already celebrated the thirtieth anniversary of his nomination as
cardinal, but the former is well on the way toward his fortieth
anniversary as officer at the Union Station.
McNeal is an artist. He loves his work. And when his day off comes and
he puts on citizen's clothing and goes out for a good time, where do you
suppose he goes?
Why down to the station, of course, to talk things over with the man who
is relieving him!
CHAPTER VI
DOUGHOREGAN MANOR AND THE CARROLLS
If I am to be honest about the South, and about myself--and I propose to
be--I must admit that, though I approached the fabled land in a most
friendly spirit, I had nevertheless become a little tired of the
southern family tree, the southern ancestral hall, and the old southern
negro servant of stage and story, and just a little skeptical about
them.
Pages:
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67