Under the Big Dipper

America—the long sought for land of romance—the New World!

Her heart beat with the excitement of the rush, her eyes fixed on the swiftly moving landscape. The deep rose color of the giant mallows enlivens the sage green of the reeds; narrow veins of tidewater wend their courses with almost geometrical directness through the dark muck of the salt meadows; in the distance are seen the rounded humps of dwarfed hills and the tall smoke-stacks of factories. Then another river is crossed—a broad stream with shallow barges loaded with crimson bricks and yellow clay. The landscape gradually changes to cultivated farmlands. Clumps of trees, cottages and cows—real live cows grazing along the hedgerows—appear and disappear. Through the opening in the foliage are seen small villas and occasionally more pretentious houses; lawns and stone walls; highways with carriages and bicycles. Another rush into a deep

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