Carlo, but it was a fiasco as a money-making concern. Nevertheless,
there were some gorgeous buildings, and it was a source of constant
interest to us. The Palace Hotel was the most magnificent building I
have ever seen; used by us as a hospital. There was no lack of marble,
and the mosaics were marvellous. The lamp-stands were of a unique and
exquisite design. The contract provided that the pattern should be
destroyed after they were made, so they would not be copied. It was
rather incongruous to see nothing but rows and rows of army cots, and
the white-robed nurses flitting about in rooms that were manifestly
intended for luxurious divans and the evening dress of fashion. Lying
in those cots, one had but to gaze ceilingward, and forget that one was
in a hospital. It required little imagination to people the rooms with
the same splendor and fashion that fills Monte Carlo, and maybe, had
the war not come and the gambling license been granted, all this
barbaric splendor would have been perfumed with the scents of "attar of
roses" and "lily-of-the-valley" instead of "iodoform" and "carbolic."

Another hospital was in Luna Park, which had been built to cater to the
amusement of thousands of joy-seekers, but the only joy there now was
in relief from pain. It was fun to make the round of the wards, for
many beds were on the scenic railway, and you would visit one poor chap
in a high fever, lying amid painted ice and snow, while another nursed
his broken leg alongside a precipice that might well have caused it. I
walked in to see the sights one day, and passing through a cave almost
fell over a bed whereon was my own brother, whose whereabouts I had
been trying to discover for days. Such are the coincidences of life.

The streets of this town were spacious and very clean and were bordered
by fine buildings with granite and marble pillars and some fine masonry
lacework. Unfortunately, poor taste was often shown, with plaster