gray, sombre and
uncomfortable--that it is too much crowded with objects, and, though
of admirable and enduring materials, suggests a spasmodic attempt to
assimilate itself to the gala character of the occasion which called
it forth. It is the saturnine one of the row. It is said that the
pieces are numbered for re-erection in some other place.

Greece has an Athenian house painfully crude in color, white picked
out with all the hues of the rainbow and some others, suggesting muddy
coffee and chibouques.

Denmark has about twenty feet of front, utilized by a gable-end of
brick with facings of imitation stone.

The Central American States have about sixty feet of yellow front,
with three arched openings into the vestibule, which is flanked by a
tower and a gable.

Anam, Persia, Siam, Morocco and Tunis have unitedly a gingerbread
affair of four distinct patterns--we cannot call them styles. Siam in
the centre has a chocolate-colored tower picked out with silver, and
surmounted by a triple pagoda roof, whence floats the flag, a white
elephant in a red field. The six feet of homeliness belonging to Tunis
has a balcony of wood which neither reveals nor hides the almond-eyed
whose supposed relatives are selling trumpery in booths on the other
side of the Seine.

Luxembourg, Andorra, Monaco and San Marino unite in a facade
representing the different styles of architecture which prevail in the
several states: 1. A portion faintly suggesting the ancient palace
of Luxembourg, to-day the residence of Prince Henry of Holland; 2. An
entrance erected by the principality of Monaco as the model of that of
the royal palace; 3. A window contributed by San Marino, and showing
that the prevalent type in the little republic is more useful than
ornamental; 4. A balustrade surmounting the facade, supplied by the
republic of Andorra.

Portugal has an imitation in cream-colored plaster of a Gothic
church-entrance, and a highly-enriched arch with flanking towers,
whose canopied niches have figures of warriors and wise men.

Holland shows an architecture of two hundred years ago, the
counterpart of the houses we see in the old Dutch pictures. It is of
dark red brick with stone courses, and a tall slate roof behind its
balustered parapet.

We are at the end of the Street of Nations, somewhat under a third of
a mile in length.

It is evening, and the sun in this latitude--for we are farther north
than Quebec--seems in no hurry to reach