Most newspaper
men--the rank and file--receive remuneration by the week. Those not given
over to domesticity, those who enjoy that alluring regularity identical
with liberty, fare sumptuously, as a rule, on "pay-day." Thereafter the
quantity and quality of the good things of life that they enjoy diminish
daily until the next pay-day.
Pay-day with us was Friday. This was Thursday night. I having gone to
unusual lengths of good cheer in the early part of that week, had now
fallen low, and was duly thankful for what I could get--even at Gorson's.
As my glance wandered over my table, over the beer-bottles and the oysters,
beyond the crowd of ravenous and vulgar eaters and hurrying waiters, to the
street door, some one opened that door from the outside and entered. An odd
looking personage this some one.
A person very tall and conspicuously thin. These peculiarities were
accentuated by the dilapidated frock coat that reached to his knees, and
thus concealed the greater portion of his gray summer trousers, which
"bagged" exceedingly and were picturesquely frayed at the bottom edges, as
I could see when he came nearer to me.
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