"Yes, sir; I'll try to remember, sir," I said, wondering why I should be asked this.
"Garden spot of the world," he added in a kind of ecstasy, to which I made no response, for this was too preposterous. Nearing the place our train passed an immense hoarding erected by the roadway; a score of feet high, I should say, and at least a dozen times as long, upon which was emblazoned in mammoth red letters on a black ground, "Keep Your Eye on Red Gap!" At either end of this lettering was painted a gigantic staring human eye. Regarding this monstrosity with startled interest, I heard myself addressed by Belknap-Jackson:
"The sort of vulgarity I'm obliged to contend with," said he, with a contemptuous gesture toward the hoarding. Indeed the thing lacked refinement in its diction, while the painted eyes were not Art in any true sense of the word. "The work of our precious Chamber of Commerce," he added, "though I pleaded with them for days and days."
"It's a sort of thing would never do with us, sir," I said.
"It's what one has to expect from a commercialized bourgeoise," he returned bitterly. "And even our association, 'The City Beautiful,' of which I was president, helped to erect the thing. Of course I resigned at once."
"Naturally, sir; the colours are atrocious."
"And the words a mere blatant boast!" He groaned and left me, for we were now well into a suburb of detached villas, many of them of a squalid character, and presently we had halted at the station. About this bleak affair was the usual gathering of peasantry and the common people, villagers, agricultural labourers, and the like, and these at once showed a tremendous interest in our
