view around the corner of the Mines
Building.

'Here she comes!' is again the cry. I am pressed back against the
wall, and close beside me the soft-rolling carriage is drawn up; a
gentleman alights, and, waving aside the obsequious footman, assists a
lady to descend. In a moment they are gone, swallowed up by the big
arched entrance, and a murmur runs through the crowd. If not the
'infanty,' they have seen one as fair and as gracious, the first lady
of the White City, the able and beloved president of the Woman's
Board.

When she has passed within I replace my uplifted hat and seek an
egress through the crowd, past the restive four-in-hand and down the
street which leads to Wooded Island, in pursuit of the little
brunette, who had vanished in that direction. And now there seemed a
breaking up of the crowd, strains of music could be heard in the
distance, and rumours of an approaching parade are rife. Wooded
Island, at the south end, seems quite alive with moving forms; and I
saunter over the first bridge, cross the tiny island of the hunters'
camp and Australian squatters' hut, cross a second picturesque
bridge, and begin to examine the faces moving about the
flower-bordered paths, thronging the rhododendron exhibit, and resting
upon the scattered benches.

I pass some time in this way, and have turned my face toward the
mainland once more, when a burst of music, near at hand, draws my eyes
to the opposite bank, where, between the west facade of the great
Manufactures Building and the lagoon, the 'wild riders' led by Buffalo
Bill, prince of show-men, are defiling past, with their fine horses
curvetting and restless under their gorgeous trappings and the weight
of their fantastic and variously costumed riders; their banners are
fluttering and their weapons glisten in the breeze and the sunshine.

There is a grand rush toward the two bridges, and as I hasten on with
the rest I catch a glimpse once more, as she comes down a side-path,
of the elusive brunette.

She is close in the wake of two women, who are running hand in hand,
and I hasten to place myself as near her as possible, but discreetly
in the rear.

And now, from the opposite side of the lagoon, we hear another burst
of music and a cry, 'The princess! the princess!' We cross the first
bridge and dash upon the next, which, being high and arched in the
centre, is at once filled with spectators, while the more venturesome
hurry over and line the banks of th