William A. Coffin originated a plan for the improvement of New York which was said by prominent architects to be practical and paying, but could not be carried through in a democratic country—there are many arguments in favor of dictatorship. The human race will not economize for its grandchildren unless forced to, and it will seldom vote “yes” for a project that will not benefit the present generation. To fill in the East River from Brooklyn Bridge to Fiftieth Street was the idea, and so broaden the land and make a space to spread. The Fall River Line would have to unload farther North, but there is no particular reason why the shipping should concentrate itself at the Battery. Another argument against it was that the good health of New York was due to the fact that it was surrounded by water. This may be true, but it does not seem to me that the East River carries away any refuse. The development of the airplane will most likely make this unnecessary, however, as mankind will take to the hills and the valleys will cease to have value. New York is always symbolized for me by the steam that rises from the housetops and looks so much like the plume of Henry of Navarre. It is not black and dirty as is the smoke of so many European cities, but diaphanous and variable, like the Latin races of which one element of the population is composed. However, it is always and steadfastly anchored to as solid a foundation as ever existed—that of the English-speaking peoples. I had hardly had time to renew my acquaintance with the greatest metropolis of my country when I was called away to another large city. To Chicago must be given the credit for the first public mural decorations in America, and with her, Frank Millet (in whose brain was born the original idea), backed by that most unusual genius—Daniel Burnham. Millet was the director of fine arts for the Exposition of 1892, and one day, after a meeting, the whole committee went over to the Manufacturers’ Building, where he was asked what color he wished to have the ironwork painted. He wanted to know what the matter was with the present color—it was that reddish gray, or crushed strawberry, the color of iron as it comes from the foundry. “Do you, as color man, stand for it as it is?” said Burnham. He said he did. “Well, you have saved us twenty thousand dollars.”