THE THING THAT THINKS
THEY passed beneath the snow-white stateliness of the great arch, still hand in hand and silent. They walked softly, almost as if they felt themselves treading upon holy ground. To their youth and unworn souls it was like holy ground. They had so dreamed of it, they had so longed for it, it had been so mingled in their minds with the story of a city not of this world.
And they stood within the court beyond the archway, the fair and noble colonnade, its sweep of columns statue-crowned behind them, the wonder of the City Beautiful spread before. The water of blue lagoons lapped the bases of white palaces as if with a caress of homage to their beauty. On every side these marvels stood, everywhere there was the green of sward and broad-leaved plants, the sapphire of water, the flood of colour and human life passing by, and above it all and enclosing it,