(See Cover)
No cloud-hung peak, no yawning gorge, no waterfall's white and thundering precipice can astound the eye like New York. No traveler is ever prepared for it. The Big City is the work of man.
Its portals are clangorous, traffic-jammed pavements, dank, echoing tubes, and steel trestles which never cease to vibrate to the slamming progress of trains. Its lights and liver function with the noisy urgency of a tabloid pressroom. Its buses, trucks & cabs jostle through its arterial streets like stampeding steers. Torrents of humanity pour endlessly down its sidewalks....
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