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So many exhibitions of painting continually opened that even I, blessed with the strength and energy of a Percheron, could not keep up with them. New York seemed like one great art gallery.

In a short time, I familiarized myself with the architecture in New York through a simple and pleasant device, riding the double-decked busses uptown to Columbia. The trip from the Village up Fifth Avenue, and then over Riverside Drive of course was infinitely slower than going by subway. It meant sacrificing at least an hour's sleep in the morning, but the sights more than compensated for that. I would take a seat on the upper deck of the bus and gawk like the greenest country bumpkin at the tall buildings and the stately private homes along the way. Many of them are gone now, victims of "progress" in the city. Architectural gems, beautiful in mass and line, have been demolished, alas. The Woolworth Building, a soaring marvel then, is dwarfed today by taller skyscrapers surrounding it. The Flatiron Building