Of these myriads whom he leads, some will be a drag upon progress, and detain the strong or perhaps retard the race; yet they are trying to keep up, and by their efforts, by delving in the deep, by feeding with their brute strength our huge enginery, may make the flowering of the American spirit easier. Yes, the Anglo-Saxon is leading them; but will he continue to lead, now that he no longer travels in the prairie schooner, but in the automobile--now that he wields the golf club and tennis racket, rather than the spade and plow on the prairie? Will he now lead them from the breakers of Newport as well as once he led them from Plymouth Rock? Will he lead them from the exclusive club as once he led them into the inclusive home? These were the doubts which filled my mind, but which I did not share with my guests as I guided them; for we were to spend the evening together, and one needs all one's faith in New York at night. We spent the early evening hours travelling around the world. We went to Arabia, where dusky children from the desert play in the gutters of Bleecker Street; to Greece, where Spartan and Athenian youth dream of the golden days of Pericles; to China, with its joss-house, its faint odors of sandalwood, and its stronger odors wafted from the Bowery. We visited Russia, and saw its ghetto-dwellers more numerous than Abraham ever thought his progeny would become; we spent some time in Hungary, with its _Gulyas_ and _Czardas_. We went to Bohemia, with its _Narodni Dom_; to Italy, south and north, with its strings of garlic, its festoons of sausages, its hurdy-gurdy, and its rich harvest of children. We had glimpses of France, of its _table d'hôte_ and painted women; travelled through darkest Africa, touched upon India, and then were back again upon Broadway. As in the sky above us the architectures of the world strive to blend and fuse, making a mighty new impress; so below, these colonies to the right and colonies to the left, like the huge limbs of some ill-shapen monster, try to blend into America. What is it all to be when blended? Of course we went to the theater. We saw a German problem play made over to please the American taste. The Herr Director knew the play almost by heart, and he nearly jumped upon the stage in righteous indignation when in the last act, where the author drops all his characters into a bottomless pit and everything ends in confusion, the play ended in the conventional "God-bless-you-my-children," "happy-ever-after" manner. We walked the streets of New York until past midnight, and finally looked down upon it from the roof of our hostelry. We could see the moon creeping out and shedding its mellow glow over the gayly lighted city. The noises were almost musical up there--like sustained organ notes--and we talked about the play with its happy ending.