The crowd seemed rested; in its eyes was the lust of life, and it was absolutely good-humored. I heard a vague tale about a man-hunt during the night--how a thief had been chased with stones and clubs until, reaching Sea Gate, he had boldly plunged into the water and disappeared. His hawk-like features, the color of clay from fright, had impressed the old man who related the story. In return I told the Levins' heart-breaking tale, and he did not appear much interested. What signified to all those strong, bustling men and women the death of a tiny girl baby--dead and hardly clad in a wisp of blackened canvas?
"Better dead!" The mobs thickened. Policemen fought them into line. The hot sun arose, in company with the penetrating odors of bad coffee and greasy crullers. Another day's labor was arrived. Soon would appear the first detachment of women and children sick from the night in the city. Soon would be heard the howling of the fakers: "Go to Hell, go to Hell-gate!"
I felt that I had been very near it, that I had seen a new Coney Island. I went home, after this, the most miserable night of my life--miserable because my nerves were out of gear. I was once more the normal, selfish man, thinking of his bed, of his breakfast. I had, of course, quite forgotten the Levins.
Originally published in the New York Herald newspaper (August 19, 1906), "Coney Island at Night" was reprinted in the collection New Cosmopolis: A Book of Images by James Huneker (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1915).
