The Cordova daily times., 1921-04-25
lE Greensboro bridge. New York, is almost deserted these
 summer evenings An Occa-

N summer evenings An OcCa-
 Si0nal pair of StroilerS. em- braced in the shadows of the great girders, a solitary man whom years have taught love of peaceful places, group of small boys lured by the ad- venture that beckOns from boats and moving waters, duo of schoolgirls, giGglng over secrets. Otherwise you may have the bridge and the quiet grandeur of the view to yourself says q writer in the Christian Science Mon itor
 Tho best time for your visit is that indrtinah'e quarter of an hour be tween sunset and the beginning of twilight the hour of color when com monpldce objects appear in the ricH tones that fade into dim color under the intenser light of day.
 This evening the blue of the sky was just beginning it's dissolution into tWilight's gray when l came up the long approach to the bridge. FaIntly greensh, it stretched above and be- hind the great superstructure, which has the eccentric curves of Siamese temple roofs, with pairs of delicate needle-spires shooting up from the gables.
 I am on the bridge, and the city lies before me.
 How can l describe what I see? Far below is a broad flowing river, with the rich olives and yellow browns of a moss jade. To the left, as lean on the southern parapet, is Queens Its lOw-lying factories and WOrk-yards now redeemed from their insignifi- canoe by the rusty browns and vel lows that they wear Nearer is the symbolic geometry Of RlackweIPs is land, its grass plots emerald with new the background, is Manhattan, rich in color and, built haphazard as it is, amazingly inevitable in composition.
 Brick factories and brick and brownStOne houses built in the sos fine the shore in the near-foreground. Tonight they glow with incredible reds and russet browns. The suns touch fingers in them, and in the warm grays and yellows, purple shadowed, of the city that rises behind them.
 A City on Hill.
 Seen from the Greensboro bridge, New York is city on hnl. From the low buildings that line the shore, touched once with the green of will lows that have been miraculously spared by the tramping city, there is a gradual rise to the heights of down town" The graceful twin towers of St. Patrick's. the medieval bell tower of the Grand Central ter minal. Madison Tower the Singer building-I can find them all, though they are vested from my vantage with an unaccustomed romance. They are part of a beautiful painting, har- monious in color and composition. In the background, the Williamsburg bridge stretches In delicate outline, and beyond it Is Brooklyn bridge, a vague, graceful garland in the fading light.
 The shadows are deepening now. The towers are blue against the pale sky, just sinking into gray. and the buildings along the shore are losing their identity. Evening, a careful Shopkeeper, Is laying gray-black cover over them. Curously, the city is seen now In three distinct planes the dark shore line forming one, the group of higher buildings a few blocks back, a second. all in black and white, the long line of Broadway, blue and pur- pie shadowed. the center of the third.
 In the Evening Shadows.
 Ten minutes of tenderly reminiscent blues and grays. with lights appearing one by one. Wall street is a town on windows. Brooklyn bridge is a neck lace of topazes. My thoughts go a. wandering among the street markets Of the lower East side, down familiar ways marked out by rows of lights And then, Puck-like, 1t is in Broadway over which there hangs delicate gold en haze, fata morganis.
 The superstructure of the bridge Is no longer merely a wonderful mechan- ism. It has mystery. Its masses, black and full of shadows. have taken on subtle flavor of antiquity. They are not steel girders, erected by men with whom one rubs shoulders in the subway Tfsey are spfnertins reared