It is not unlikely that when Mayor Andrew-James Peters of Boston spent a night as a hob in the Wayfarers' Lodge some of his bedfellows were Reds who had threatened in pen and ink to have his life's blood. "You will be shot Friday night at 12," wrote one of the avengers. Peters had made brave war upon the Bolsheviki, silk-stockinged and stocking less. Yet he seems to have slept like a babe, though there were enemies of society snoring around him as well as good Americans down on their luck. Was it Peters of Harvard or Peters of the slums who took the compulsory shower bath and gave his clothes over for fumigation as No. 69? Did not the blatant Curley, rejected as Mayor, assail Peters as the candidate of "Harvard College and the slums"? If Curley ever slept at a hobo lodging house and chopped wood for his breakfast, it is not of common report. Peters is different, more of a doer than a talker, a getter of information at first hand. Not soon will his old friends stop chaffing him about his adventure to see for himself how the "down- and-outers" were treated at the "institution" known as Wayfarers' Lodge.

A triumph for his Honor all round! The Wayfarers Lodge potentate did not recognize him, gave him the "cold eye," indeed, when he essayed conversation; nor did a policeman on duty at City Hall know him in the morning. As one result of the Mayor's adventure, the Lodge is to have more "showers" and "better accommodations for the "down-and-outers." The Peters way of roughing it facilitates the winning of appropriations. There is no refusing a man who shares the lot of the jobless and the homeless. A virile chap, the Harvard-slum Mayor.  New York Times