Everywhere we are destroying that charming object, a piece of an old wall that bears up the branches of a tree.

Everywhere we are suppressing some fragment of light and air, some fragment of nature, some fragment of the associations that still remain with us, some fragment of our fathers, some fragment of ourselves.

And we are putting up frightful, enormous, infamous houses, surmounted in Viennese style by ridiculous domes, or fashioned after the models of the 'new art' without mouldings, or having profiles with sinister corbels and burlesque pinnacles, and such monsters as these shamelessly peer over the surrounding buildings.

We see bulbous protuberances stuck on the fronts of buildings and we are told they are 'new art' motives.

I have seen the 'new art' in other countries, but it is not so ugly as with us; it has fancy and it has simplicity.