mbition; and
she has infinite money. If the past is ours, the future is hers, and we
may look forward to it with curiosity and with hope.

The architects of America have not only composed works in accordance
with the old traditions and in obedience to ancient models; they have
devised a new style and a new method of their own. To pack a vast
metropolis within a narrow space, they have made mountains of houses.
When the rock upon which their city stands proved insufficient for their
ambition, they conquered another kingdom in the air. The skyscrapers
which lift their lofty turrets to the heaven are the pride of New York.
It is upon them that the returning traveller gazes most eagerly, as he
nears the shore. They hold a firmer place in his heart than even the
Statue of Liberty, and the vague sentiment which it inspires. With a
proper vanity he points out to the poor Briton, who shudders at
five storeys, the size and grandeur of his imposing palaces. And his
arrogance is just. The sky-scraper presents a new view of architecture.
It is original, characteristic, and beautiful. Suggested and enforced,
as I have said, by the narrowness of the rock, it is suitable to its
atmosphere and environment. New York is a southern, sunlit city, which
needs protection from the heat and need not fear obscurity. Even where
the buildings are highest, the wayfarer does not feel that he is walking
at the bottom of a well. But, let it be said at once, the sky-scraper
would be intolerable in our grey and murky land. London demands a
broad thoroughfare and low houses. These are its only defence against a
covered sky and an enveloping fog, and the patriotic Americans who would
transplant their sky-scrapers to England merely prove that they do not
appreciate the logic and beauty of their own design.

What, then, is a sky-scraper? It is a giant bird-cage, whose interstices
are filled with stone or concrete. Though its structure is concealed
from the eye, it is impossible not to wonder at its superb effrontery.
It depends for its effect, not upon ornament, which perforce appears
trivial and inapposite, but upon its mass. Whatever approaches it of
another scale and kind is dwarfed to insignificance. The Sub-Treasury of
the United States, for instance, looks like a foolish plaything
beside its august neighbours. Where sky-scrapers are there must be no
commemorative statues, no monuments raised to merely human heroes.
The effigy of Washington in Wall S