so much what we believe as how we believe."

A few moments later we were passing the new Christian Science
Temple on Drexel Boulevard,--a building quite simple and
delightful, barring some garish lamps in front.

"There is another latter-day sect," said the Professor; "one of
the phenomena of the nineteenth century."

"You would not class them with the Dowieites?"

"By no means, but an interesting part of a large whole which
embraces at one extreme the Dowieites. The connecting link is
faith. But the very architecture of the temple we have just passed
illustrates the vast interval that separates the two."

"Then you judge a sect by its buildings?"

"Every faith has its own architecture. The temple at Karnak and
the tabernacle at Salt Lake City are petrifactions of faith. In
time the places of worship are the only tangible remains--witness
Stonehenge."

Chicago boasts the things she has not and slights the things she
has; she talks of everything but the lake and her broad and almost
endless boulevards, yet these are her chief glories.

For miles and miles and miles one can travel boulevards upon which
no traffic teams are allowed. From Fort Sheridan, twenty-five
miles north, to far below Jackson Park to the south there is an