There is probably no other place in the world that
offers as many avenues of flight."
But nothing short of dire necessity ever takes a Villager uptown. He,
or she, may go downtown but not up. Uptown nearly always means
something distasteful and boring to the Village; they see to it that
they have as few occasions for going there as possible.
Anyway, uptown, for them, ends very far downtown! The fifties,
forties, thirties, even the twenties, are to them the veritable
wilderness, the variously repugnant sections of relatively outer
darkness.
Do you remember Colonel Turnbull who had so much trouble in selling
his house at Eighth Street because it was so far out of town? Here is
a modern and quite surprisingly neat analogy:
Two Village women of my acquaintance met the other day. Said one
tragically: "My dear, isn't it awful? We've had to move uptown! Since
the baby came, we need a larger house, but it almost breaks my heart!"
"I should think so!" gasped the second woman in consternation. "You've
always been such regular Villagers.
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