One evening last week an elderly, scholarly gentleman at the railroad station in New Haven. Conn, was extricating himself as goodnaturedly as he could from beneath a commodious piece of brown headgear which had been shoved down over his ears, not by a Hallowe'ening undergraduate but by a hearty, rough-voiced, middle-aged man whom he did not know very well except that the name was Alfred Emanuel ("Al") Smith. After Mr. Smith of New York left town, Dr. Wilbur Lucius Cross reflected that his political baptism in...
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