Dec 31, 2009
Late one rainy night, a shabbily dressed young man trudges along a New York street taunted by voices calling him a bum. As he reaches City Hall Park, he seeks companionship but spots only well-dressed people on their way home. Moving on to Chatham Square, where the pedestrians’ clothes match his “tatters,” he sees a saloon sign that advertises “Free hot soup tonight.” Moving through its swinging doors, which snap “to and fro like ravenous lips,” the youth is served a schooner of frothy beer and a bowl of watery chicken broth. Turning down a second...
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