As they passed the building called “The Bureau of Public Comfort,” Harry tried a shot at some people who were eating lunch upon the grass.
Later, he saw a young girl with a kodak making for the middle of one of the bridges, and walked after her, hoping to take a picture of her while she herself was snapping the button. As she leaned against the parapet and leveled the camera, Harry saw that he could get a pretty negative, and himself took the young photographer.
On their way home the boys walked through Horticultural Hall, with its palm-trees, its flowers, and its lofty glass dome. By this time, however, they had learned to see without noticing, and they decided to come back some other day if they had time—a resolution already made in regard to perhaps one hundred and fifty equally absorbing collections.
But there were several fine groups of sculpture. One the boys felt was full of sentiment and beauty; it was called “The Sleep of the Flowers,” and meant to be typical of autumn. The drooping of the vegetation and the lethargy of the coming winter were admirably translated into the action of the figures.
“Philip,” said Harry, “we ought to see all these groups—everywhere.”
“Harry,” replied his cousin, “we are doing our level best.” And, consoled by this thought, they rejoined Mr. Douglass and went home.
GENERAL VIEW OF THE HORTICULTURAL BUILDING.
AN UNFRAMED PICTURE.