The Pride of the Cities Page #2

"The Pride of the Cities" is a delightful short story by O. Henry that explores themes of love, ambition, and the complexities of urban life. Set in a bustling city, it follows a chance encounter between two characters from different walks of life, highlighting the contrasts and connections between them. Through his signature wit and clever storytelling, O. Henry paints a vivid picture of city life, capturing both its charm and its challenges. The narrative reveals the characters' personal aspirations and the unexpected twists that love and fate can bring.

• Short story

								

acknowledged by every one that our city is the centre of art, and
literature, and learning. Take, for instance, our after-dinner
speakers. Where else in the country would you find such wit and
eloquence as emanate from Depew and Ford, and—”

“If you take the papers,” interrupted the Westerner, “you must have
read of Pete Webster’s daughter. The Websters live two blocks north of
the court-house in Topaz City. Miss Tillie Webster, she slept forty
days and nights without waking up. The doctors said that—”

“Pass the matches, please,” said the New Yorker. “Have you observed the
expedition with which new buildings are being run up in New York?
Improved inventions in steel framework and—”

“I noticed,” said the Nevadian, “that the statistics of Topaz City
showed only one carpenter crushed by falling timbers last year and he
was caught in a cyclone.”

“They abuse our sky line,” continued the New Yorker, “and it is likely
that we are not yet artistic in the construction of our buildings. But
I can safely assert that we lead in pictorial and decorative art. In
some of our houses can be found masterpieces in the way of paintings
and sculpture. One who has the entree to our best galleries will find—”

“Back up,” exclaimed the man from Topaz City. “There was a game last
month in our town in which $90,000 changed hands on a pair of—”

“Ta-romt-tara!” went the orchestra. The stage curtain, blushing pink at
the name “Asbestos” inscribed upon it, came down with a slow midsummer
movement. The audience trickled leisurely down the elevator and stairs.

On the sidewalk below, the New Yorker and the man from Topaz City shook
hands with alcoholic gravity. The elevated crashed raucously, surface
cars hummed and clanged, cabmen swore, newsboys shrieked, wheels
clattered ear-piercingly. The New Yorker conceived a happy thought,
with which he aspired to clinch the pre-eminence of his city.

“You must admit,” said he, “that in the way of noise New York is far
ahead of any other—”

“Back to the everglades!” said the man from Topaz City. “In 1900, when
Sousa’s band and the repeating candidate were in our town you
couldn’t—”

The rattle of an express wagon drowned the rest of the words.
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