slowly."

On the way Lewis stared, unbelieving, at the things he saw. Gone were
the low, thick-walled buildings that memory had prepared him for; gone
the funny little street-cars drawn by galloping, jack-rabbit mules. In
their stead were high, imposing fronts, with shallow doorways and heavy
American electric trams.

The car shot out upon a mighty viaduct. Lewis leaned out and looked
down. Here was something that he could remember--the valley that split
the city in two, and up and down the sides of which he had often toiled
as a boy. Suddenly they were across, and a monster building blotted all
else from his sight. He looked up at the massive pile. "What is it?" he
asked.

"Theater built by the state," answered the driver, without looking
around. "Cost millions."

"Reis?" asked Lewis, smiling.

"Reis? Bah!" grunted the driver. "Pounds."

The street left the level and started to climb. Lewis looked anxiously
to right and left. He saw a placard that read, "Street of the
Consolation."

"Stop!" he cried.

The driver drew up at the curb.