At sight of the curious groups in the niches I expressed a certain disappointment. It seemed to me that, in the midst of so much real beauty, they were out of key. But the architect had another point of view. "They are worth while because they're different," he said. "They ought not to be considered merely as ornaments. They have an archaeological interest. They are related to those interesting studies that Albert Durer used to make, and they are full of symbolism. When Charles Harley made them he knew just what he was doing. The male figure in 'The Triumph of the Fields' takes us back to the time when harvesting was associated with pagan rites. The Celtic cross and the standard with the bull on top used to be carried through the field in harvest time. The bull celebrates the animal that has aided man in gathering the crops. The wain represents the old harvest wagon. That head down there typifies the seed of the earth, symbol of the life that comes up in the barley that is indicated there, bringing food to mankind. The woman's figure, unfortunately, is too small for the niche, 'Abundance.' The horn of plenty on either side indicates her character. She's reaching out her hands to suggest her prodigality. The head of the eagle on the prow of the ship where she is sitting, gives the idea an American application, suggesting our natural prosperity and our reason for keeping ahead in the march of progress. In one sense, those figures represent a reactionary kind of sculpture. Nowadays the sculptors, like the painters, are trying to get away from literal interpretations. They don't want to appeal to the mind so much as to the emotions." X The Palace of Fine Arts at Close Range The path leading to the northern end of the colonnade attracted us. It brought us to the beautiful little grove of Monterey cypress that McLaren had saved from the old Harbor View restaurant, for so many years one of the most curious and picturesque of the San Francisco resorts, one of the few on the bay-side. Though the architect frankly admired Paul Bartlett's realistic "Wounded Lion," the pieces of sculpture set out on the grass bothered him somewhat. He couldn't find any justification for their being there. He wanted them, as he said, in a setting. "I think I can see what the purpose was in putting them here, to provide decoration that would be unobtrusive. But some of these pieces, like Bartlett's, stand out conspicuously and deserve to be treated with more consideration. Besides, there's always danger of weakening a glorious conception like Maybeck's by putting too many things into it, creating an artistic confusion."