Arcadian Adventures with the idle rich
The Mausoleum Club stands on the quietest corner of the best residential street in the city. It is a Grecian building of white stone. About it are great elm trees with birds — the most expensive kind of birds — singing in the branches. The street in the softer hours of the morning has an almost reverential quiet. Great motors move drowsily along it, with solitary chauffeurs returning at 10.30 after conveying the earlier of the millionaires to their downtown offices.
Club in the quietest part of the city. Here you may see a little toddling princess in a rabbit suit who owes fifty distilleries in her own right. There, in a lacquered perambulator, sails past a little hooded head that controls from its cradle an entire New Jersey corporation. The United States attorney- general is suing her as she sits, in a vain attempt to make her dissolve herself into constituent companies. Nearby is a child of four, in a khaki suit, who represents the merger of two trunk line railways.
And through it, all the sunlight falls through the elm- trees, and the birds sing and the hum of the motor so that the whole world as seen from the boulevard of Plutoria Avenue is the very pleasantest place imaginable. Just below Plutoria Avenue, and parallel with it, the trees die out and the brick and stone of the city begin in earnest. Even from avenue