Chapter XVII—­Progress and Endowment.  I allow this discourse, also, to stand as written in 1914 and ’15.  It shows the condition just before the war, better than any new words of mine could do it.  The main change now is the growing hope of a backing, not only from Universities, but great Art Museums.

Chapter XVIII—­Architects as Crusaders.  The sermon in this chapter has been carried out on a limited scale, and as a result of the suggestion, or from pure American instinct, we now have handsome gasoline filling stations from one end of America to the other, and really gorgeous Ford garages.  Our Union depots and our magazine stands in the leading hotels, and our big Soda fountains are more and more attractive all the time.  Having recited of late about twice around the United States and, continuing the pilgrimage, I can testify that they are all alike from New York to San Francisco.  One has to ask the hotel clerk to find out whether it is New York or ——.  And the motion picture discipline of the American eye has had a deal to do with this increasing tendency to news-stand and architectural standardization and architectural thinking, such as it is.  But I meant this suggestion to go further, and to be taken in a higher sense, so I ask these people to read this chapter again.  I have carried out the idea, in a parable, perhaps more clearly in The Golden Book of Springfield, when I speak of the World’s Fair of the University of Springfield, to be built one hundred years hence.  And I would recommend to those who have already taken seriously chapter eighteen, to reread it in two towns, amply worth the car fare it costs to go to both of them.  First, Santa Fe, New Mexico, at the end of the Santa Fe Trail, the oldest city in the United States, the richest in living traditions, and with the oldest and the newest architecture in the United States; not a stone or a stick of it standardized, a city with a soul, Jerusalem and Mecca and Benares and Thebes for any artist or any poet of America’s future, or any one who would dream of great cities born of great architectural photoplays, or great photoplays born of great cities.  And the other city, symbolized by The Golden Rain Tree in The Golden Book of Springfield, is New Harmony, Indiana.  That was the Greenwich Village of America more than one hundred years ago, when it was yet in the heart of the wilderness, millions of miles from the sea.  It has a tradition already as dusty and wonderful as Abydos and Gem Aten.  And every stone is still eloquent of individualism, and standardization has not yet set its foot there.  Is it not possible for the architects to brood in such places and then say to one another:—­“Build from your hearts buildings and films which shall be your individual Hieroglyphics, each according to his own loves and fancies?”

Chapter XIX—­On Coming Forth by Day.  This is the second Egyptian chapter.  It has its direct relation to the Hieroglyphic chapter, page 171.  I note that I say here it costs a dime to go to the show.  Well, now it costs around thirty cents to go to a good show in a respectable suburb, sometimes fifty cents.  But we will let that dime remain there, as a matter of historic interest, and pass on, to higher themes.