SOLE FRIEND OF MY BOYHOOD, WHO WILL RECALL BETTER THAN ANY THE YOUTHFUL MORAL AND SOCIAL SEED-TIME WHICH HAS LED TO THIS LATER HARVESTING OF CONCLUSION, THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. In the days when New Orleans still claimed distinction as the only American city without trolleys, sky-scrapers, or fast trains--was it yesterday? or the day before?--there was a dingy, cobwebbed cafe in an arcade off Camp Street which was well-beloved of newspaperdom; particularly of that wing of the force whose activities begin late and end in the small hours.…
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