A good post-midnight conversationalist--and Baltimore is not without them--can stand mops, buckets, and dim lights, but turn cold drafts upon his back and he gives up, sends for his coat, buttons it about his paunch and goes sadly home.
It is fitting that last of all should be mentioned the man who views you with keen eye as you arrive in Baltimore, and who watches you depart.

If you are in Baltimore he knows it.

And when you go away he knows that, too.

Also, during racing season, he knows whether you bet, and whether you won or lost.

He is always at the station and always at the race track, and if you don't belong in Baltimore he is aware of it the instant he sets eyes upon you, because he knows every man, woman, child, and dog in Baltimore, and they all know him.