A country that bought its houses in Europe, shipped them home, and then — occasionally — arranged them better than Europe ever did.
Monday is the American closing day, not Tuesday, and I have wasted a morning learning it. Timed entry is the other habit worth acquiring: the Gardner, the Frick and the Barnes all prefer to know you are coming, and the Barnes insists.
Boston, New York, Philadelphia and Washington sit on one railway line, and the whole eastern half of this page can be done in four days without a car. I have done it in January, which is cold, unfashionable and entirely correct.
Cincinnati and Kansas City are the argument of this country in miniature: extraordinary collections placed where nobody would think to look for them. I have been to one of them. The other I have been promising myself for four years, which is long enough to admit is a failing rather than a plan.