122 ROUND ABOUT CHICAGO 



shows signs of weariness, and our attention is 

 less distracted. 



Grand boulevard's triple roadway grows grander 

 every year. Little by little the branches are 

 reaching up and across. Already the lawns on 

 either side of the main road have become gothic 

 cloisters where one may walk miles, and meditate 

 alone. No shrubbery, no irritating flower beds, 

 just perfect grass and growing elms. The next 

 generation will see Grand boulevard one of the 

 world's most stately drives. The only addition 

 possible to it will be beautiful statuary. Already 

 one piece has appeared, the great equestrian statue 

 of Washington at the entrance to the park that 

 bears his name. 



Along the shady drives of Washington park 

 and the sunny stretch of the Midway and into 

 Jackson park we roll, and stop in front of the 

 German building. Here the passengers alight 

 to seek refreshment or to rest their limbs by 

 strolling up and down in the splendid willow 

 grove or along the sea wall. 



A little Italian newsboy, evidently a protege 

 of the megaphone man, by which token I can 

 forgive him a little, has come all the way out 

 with us, sitting way down on the front edge, very 

 still and open-eyed. 



