"Yeast is yeast, and West is West," I said, and was quite surprised
at my own cleverness. I hadn't made a remark like that to Andrew in
five years.

"I see you are acquainted with Kipling," he said.

"Oh, yes, every governess is."

"Where and whom did you govern?"

"I was in New York, with the family of a wealthy stockbroker. There
were three children. I used to take them walking in Central Park."

"Did you ever go to Brooklyn?" he asked abruptly.

"Never," I replied.

"Ah!" he said. "That's just the trouble. New York is Babylon;
Brooklyn is the true Holy City. New York is the city of envy, office
work, and hustle; Brooklyn is the region of homes and happiness. It
is extraordinary: poor, harassed New Yorkers presume to look down on
low-lying, home-loving Brooklyn, when as a matter of fact it is the
precious jewel their souls are thirsting for and they never know it.
Broadway: think how symbolic the name is. Broad is the way that
leadeth to destruction! But in Brooklyn the ways are narrow, and
they lead to the Heavenly City of content. Central Park: there you
are--the centre of things, hemmed in by walls of pride. Now how
much better is Prospect Park, giving a fair view over the hills of
humility! There is no hope for New Yorkers, for they glory in their