easons, flanking the four corners of the
Agricultural building, greet the day. Columbus, his face ever toward the
west, rides onward with the sun in his triumphal car. He looks down on
the work wrought out to his glory and honor, but his journey is westward
still, out of the sunlight into the gloom. Against the dark western sky
hangs the majestic dome of the Administration building, now a blaze of
ivory and gold.

The sun lifts slowly out of the water. Its rays shine white and clear.
The tired guards lean wearily over the parapets of the canals, throwing
bread to hungry swans. Flocks of seabirds sweep up and down the canals
like the first flurries of autumn snow. The water fowl greet the day
with joyous clamor, adding a quaint, rural touch, almost startling in
this city of silent palaces. They splash about the wooded island,
screaming lustily when boys come in skiffs to steal their eggs. Swallows
and frowsy little sparrows flit from their nests, built in the very
hands of the golden goddess of Liberty.

From the roofs of every building there is a sudden flash of color. A
thousand flags float in the morning breeze. Ten thousand workmen hurry
through the sunny park.

The mystical city of dreamland is again the workshop of the world.

Three hours later our family were together in the art gallery glancing
at the famous paintings and statues which the nations had given to show
what subtle art can achieve on canvas and stone.

Aunt said she always knew those French people were the most shocking
people in the world. How different their section of paintings from those
of the United States. Fanny had no time for any thought outside of the
overwhelming beauty of all she saw. She had begun to paint a little and
to do some molding, and she knew how to appreciate the marvelous skill
before her. She saw very few people who saw anything in them but a
show. Uncle was positively disgusted, and went through only as if it was
his duty to see everything. But among the statuary he found some things
of more interest.

"Why, Grandpa, how solemn you look. Now, I can't feel solemn at this
piece of statuary. Let's see what is its name. Here it is--'The Struggle
for Bread.' That makes it more interesting. The people are starving and
the factories can give work only to a few. Every day they throw out
tickets from the windows, and whoever brings a ticket to the office
window is employed. Look at that strong young man. He has secured one
and