I do not think there are any modern buildings in Europe which can compare with the modern buildings in America, But apart from such masterpieces as the Pennsylvania Railroad Station, Pierpont Morgan’s library, and the wonderful towers and skyscrapers in New York, it struck me that all the little houses you saw everywhere in the country round San Francisco and along the Santa Fé Railway track, and again in Long Island, were remarkable for their symmetry, their good proportions, and their daintiness. For instance, the country in New Zealand is covered with little bungalows; so is the country round San Francisco; but the difference between them is immense. There is no elegance or prettiness about the bungalows in New Zealand; they are heavy, unshapely, and monotonous; there is no taste or design about them; while in San Francisco, on the contrary, they are extremely varied, remarkable for their proportion, attractive-looking, and often extremely pretty. I believe that in the American character there is a deep sense of symmetry, shape, and neatness. I think there are evidences of this in all departments of American life: in the clothes of the men and women; in their neatness; in the quickness and neatness of their phrases and their humour; in the ingenuity of their machinery. There is a constant tendency to do away with what is unnecessary. In the finest American buildings what strikes one most is the absence of unnecessary ornamentation and detail of architect’s “twiddles,” which, in England, for instance, it is impossible to get architects to leave out, do what you will. [Illustration: THE ONLY HANSOM CAB IN LONDON] The Pennsylvania Railroad Station and Pierpont Morgan’s library have the simplicity of Greek architecture. To go back again to San Francisco, the climate is like champagne. There is gaiety in the air. The streets and the houses seem to radiate with amusement and cheerfulness. San Francisco is essentially a night city, and next to Paris, I should say it was the gayest night city in the world. I have met with a great deal of hospitality all over the world, but I have never met with people who take so much trouble for the stranger as the Americans. A friend of mine in New York met a friend of his, and asked this friend if he had any acquaintances in San Francisco, and if so, whether they could do anything for me. This friend of my friend’s immediately sent a lot of telegrams to San Francisco, the result of which was that I instantly received cards of invitation to three different clubs, and that I was, that very night, entertained at the Pacific Union Club.