A Polack's eyes popped at a huge bell, four stories high. He wondered why anyone should want a bell that big. He strolled past a tinselly lagoon and came to five great exhibition halls, not one of which was complete and all of which were sparsely dotted with exhibits. He met some mustachioed Slavic friends who told him of a mysterious Treasure Island, of a quaint restoration of an 18th Century street, to the east of which towered a shining Oriental building, essence of India. He walked...
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