The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1904-09-04

81. LOUIS, the Lighted w on
der of the Night springs into
being when dusk overtakes the last
of the suns rays gliding the statue
crowning the imposing dome of Fes-
tival Hall.
The City of Magical Architecture, in
all its vastness, in color and harmony
Of buildings and green and Towering
setting, is best viewed from the crest
of the Terrace of States, with the
main exhibit buildings, each enclos-
ing acres of space, and the ramifying
lagoon spread out fanwise before you.
But the Lighted Wonder of the Night
is only seen in all its splendor from
the vantage point of the Plaza of St.
Louis, a thousand feet across the
Grand Basin, directly opposite the
Cascades and Festival Hall.
Thither, with the approach of even
ing, the thousands of Worlds Fair
sightseers begin to make their way.
You see them winding in steady pro-
cession down the statue -bordered, red
panel paths leading from the Terrace
of States. You behold them COM
ing in unbroken column from the
quarter where the Pike runs its length.
You have only to look about to know
that they are pouring out of the mas
sive arched entrances of the exhibit
buildings lining the Plaza, and seeking
favorable seats along the Plaza's edge
where It meets the Grand Basin. You
have to be exceedingly early to Sc
cure so advantageous a view point
and equally forehanded to experience
the sensation of ride in the lagoon
just as the cream facades of the build
ings, around which the water twines,
flash into great ribands of light You
should get your first glimpse of the
Lighted Wonder of the Night in this
manner, and you will not soon forget
the impression made upon you.
You have taken gondola Two
Italians are sending it noiselessly
through the water, past green, and
brilliantly lowered banks and tower
ing colonnades, inviting and cool,
seemingly without end. You come to
an arched bridge. One of the Condo
liers bursts into gay song of his
native land, and the recesses of the
arch, catching the rollicking tenor
notes, send them echoing out over
the water. For a moment the boat,
swaying gently, pauses within the
shadow as the gondoliers rest on their
oars; then suddenly it shoots into the
open, the man still singing.
You are so engrossed in the song
and the thoughts of it that the singer
and the gondola bring up-even
though you have never visited Venice,
you picture that ancient city in your
minds eye-that you have been NOV
ing over a glowing surface some mo-
ments before you are aware of it. I'm
posing colonnade and tower and dome
and arch have disappeared, and where
they formed fascinating vistas few
seconds before, only their outlines are
marked by brilliant bands of light.
Wonderingly you look ahead-as
far as you can see, light. You turn,
still wonderingly, to either side-tier
and tier of light, arch on arch. You
glance skyward-a colonnade of fire.
You look upward at Festival Hall Hill,
in range of which the gondola has just
shot, and, seemingly, reaching to the
very edge of the sky itself, are ribbons
of light, festoons of light, miles of
light; light in the form of gigantic
stars; light in the shape of imposing
towers; great blocks of light, square
feet on square feet in area; and, as
axis, the greatest light mass of all, Civ
ing the semblance of crowning dome
suspended against the blue back
ground of the summer sky.
For moment you imagine yourself
in fairyland. The next instant you
come back to earth. The gondola is
at the landing, a gondolier is gracefully
helping you out, while the other, hat
in hand, is bowing and scraping. "Re-
member the gondolier, remember the
poor gondolier," is the burden of his
song.
But whether or not you give heed
TO the pleading gondolier, it is well
not to forget that you have just begun
to see the Lighted Wonder of the
Night 1t is now incumbent on you to
find vacant seat upon the Plaza, and,
if there is none, then to sit upon the
steps leading to the main landing of
the Grand Basin at the bases of the
Borglunis statues typifying western
frontier life Hundreds occupy these
steps every night, and, though they
are not so comfortable as a bench,
they afford magnificent view, unob-
structed by any hat or head, of the
lighted picture in its entirety.
From here you see the hill on which
Festival Hall and the Terrace of