Just at the present writing, it is
at Sheridan Square that you will find it most colourfully and
picturesquely represented. Tomorrow, no man may be able to say whence
it has flitted.
You will find much golden sunshine in Sheridan Square--not the
approved atmosphere of Bohemia, yet the real thing nevertheless. It is
a broad, clean, brazen sort of sunshine--a sunshine that should say,
"See me work! See me shine! See me show up the least last ugliness or
smallness or humbleness, and glorify it to something Village-like and
picturesque!"
When you leave the sunny square, you will enter the oddest little
court in all New York; it has not to my knowledge any name, but it is
the general address of enough tea shops and studios and Village haunts
to stock an entire neighbourhood. The buildings are old--old, and, of
course, of wood. These artist folk have metamorphosed the shabby and
dilapidated structures into charming places.
Following the sign of deep blue with yellow letters which indicates
that this is the place where the Hand-Painted Wooden Toys are made,
you must climb in the sunshine up the outside staircase, which looks
as though it had been put up for scaffolding purposes and then
forgotten.
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