“When I reached the hotel I found it full of Pilgrim Fathers. 'Oh, say, get some ice water, and, waiter, three dry martinis. Gee, lookit here! What's this chickfeed? Is this a sixpence?' I had a swift vision of the first Pilgrim Fathers kneeling on the shores of Mass., returning thanks for their safe arrival. You know the picture? The wind blowing their hair; their broad felt hats in their hands; beyond the inhospitable dunes so soon to blossom with safety razors and sock suspenders. 'Here's mud in your eye!' said one of the modern pilgrims, tossing down his martini. It is very rarely that life is so artistic.”