The aspect of this great thoroughfare was much the same as that of the street I had first seen. The like ranges of lofty buildings, with their columned arcades, extended seaward in long perspective. Similar throngs of pedestrians passed along the colonnades, or over the bridges that spanned the street. No pedestrian trespassed on the central causeway, which was thronged with curricles in rapid motion, though not so rapid as in the open country. I had myself guided my curricle till we entered the city: then I was glad to relinquish the tiller to the more experienced hands of my companion.
When we had proceeded down town to about where Union Square now stands, Utis drew up beside the curbstone, behind a long line of empty curricles. Following his guidance, I ascended with him to the topmost story of the building before which we had halted. On emerging from the elevator, we found ourselves on the roof, at a height to which the sounds of the busy world below ascended only as a faint murmur. The change of scene had all the suddenness of a theatrical transformation. It was like being at once transported from the midst of Broadway at its busiest to the calm of an unfrequented islet in the Southern Ocean.
The general aspect of all around me might have lent itself to such an illusion. Here we found ourselves in the midst of trees, flowers, and carpet-like sward. Those that remained in the city in charge of the buildings, or confined there by other duties, cut off, with their families, from the ordinary delights of the country, had here created for themselves a peculiar landscape.
It is difficult to convey an idea of the scene. Imagine
