of any running water. As it must have taken a considerable water supply to furnish water to the inhabitants of such a large place as Machu Picchu, it may be that an irrigating ditch was carried back into the mountains for many miles to some point from which an unfailing supply of water could be secured.

There is a very nicely made bathhouse, a fountain with some niches, and an adjoining retiring-room with a seat. The water was conducted into the bathhouse through a stone channel, over a nicely cut stone block. On top of a gigantic granite boulder near the bathhouse is a semicircular building; made of nearly rectangular blocks, and containing nicely finished niches on the inside. Underneath the boulder is a cave lined

with carefully worked stone and containing very large niches, the best and tallest that I have ever seen. There are many stairways made of blocks of granite. One stairway is divided so as to permit the insertion of a catch-basin for water. This stairway leads to a point farther up the ridge, where there is a place which I have called the Sacred Plaza.

On the south side of this plaza there are terraces lined with large blocks, after the fashion of Sacsahuaman, and also a kind of bastion, semicircular, with carefully cut, nearly rectangular stones, somewhat like those in the well-known semicircular Temple of the Sun, now the Dominican Monastery, at Cuzco. On the east side of the Sacred Plaza are the walls of a rectangular building, twentynine feet long by thirtyseven wide, containing niches and projecting cylinders resembling in many ways the buildings at Choqquequirau. It has two doors on the side toward the plaza, but no windows.

On the west side is a remarkable structure, truly megalithic, entirely open on the side facing the Plaza, and entirely closed on the other three sides. The interior measurements of this building are 25.9 x 21 feet. As in the case of all the other buildings, its roof is missing. It is made of blocks of white granite, arranged in tiers. The stones in the lower tier are very much larger than those in any of the others. One block in the lower tier measures 9.6 feet in length; another, 10.2 feet; a third, 13.2 feet. As will be seen from the photographs, they are considerably higher than a man, and about 2.8 feet thick. The upper tiers are of nearly rectangular blocks,

very much smaller, but cut with indescribable accuracy, and fitted together as a glass stopper is fitted to a bottle. The distinguishing characteristic of this building is that the ends of the walls are not vertical, but project in an obtuse angle. At the point of the angle the stone was cut away, apparently to admit a large wooden beam, which probably extended across in front of the structure to the point of the angle at the other end of the wall. This may have been used to support the roof, or to bring it down part way, like a mansard roof. This building is lined with small niches, high up above reach, and made with great care and precision. In the center of the back wall, and near the ground, is the largest stone of all, which measures 14.1 feet in length, and appears to have been either a high seat or an altar.

From the Sacred Plaza there is a magnificent view on both sides; to the north a tumbled mass of gigantic forest-clad mountains, rising to snow-capped peaks, and to the south the widening Urubamba Valley, with the river winding through its bottom, protected on both sides by precipitous mountains. On the highest part of the ridge is a small structure, carefully built of rectangular blocks, with nicely made niches. Near it is a large

boulder, carved into what is known as an intihualana stone, supposed by some to have been a sun-dial. It has steps carved in it, and is in a fine state of preservation.

Directly below the Sacred Plaza the terraces run down to a large horseshoeshaped plaza, evidently an ancient playground, or possibly an agricultural field. On the other side of this are a great many houses of lesser importance, although well built and huddled closely together. Many of the houses are simple in construction. Some have gabled ends. Nearly all have niches. A few are of remarkably fine workmanship, as fine as anything in Cuzco. The material used is nearly uniformly white granite. The finish is exquisite, and the blocks are fitted together with a nicety that surpasses description. The work is of the same character as that which so aroused the marvel of the Spanish conquerors. Some of the structures are nicely squared, like the palaces at Cuzco. Others have niches which resemble the best at Ollantaytambo. Cylindrical stone blocks, projecting from the wall, are common, both inside and outside the structure. general they are larger and very much better fashioned than those at Choqquequirau. In places the ruins are almost labyrinthian. The plan gives a better

In

idea than can be expressed in words of the extent and character of Machu Picchu.

On the north side of the Sacred Plaza is another structure, somewhat resembling that described as being on the west side, in that the side facing the plaza is entirely open. Outside of the building are cylindrical stones projecting from the wall. Huge stones were employed in the lower tier, as in the similar building on the west side of the plaza, and their ends--that is to say, the ends of the side walls-a -are followed out in an obtuse angle, as in the other structure. Similarly, the point of the angle contains a hole cut into the stone, evidently intended to permit the admission of a large wooden beam. In order to support this beam, which extended across from one end of the building to the other, a single block was erected, half-way between the ends, and notched at the top, so as to permit the beam, or the ends of two beams if such were used, to rest upon it. This structure has an internal measurement of 14.9 x 33.7 feet. Its most striking feature is its row of remarkable windows. Three large windows, 3.1 feet wide and nearly 4 feet high, are let into the back wall, and look out upon a mag

nificent prospect over the jungle-clad mountains. Nowhere else in Peru have I seen an ancient building whose most noticeable characteristic is the presence of three large windows. Can it be that this unique feature will help us solve the riddle of this wonderful city of white granite?

Sir Clements Markham, in his recent and valuable book on the Incas of Peru, devotes a chapter to a myth which was told to all the Spanish chroniclers by their native informants, which he believes is the fabulous version of a distant historical event. The end of the early megalithic civilization is stated to have been caused by a great invasion from the south, possibly by barbarians from the Argentine pampas. The whole country broke up into anarchy, and savagery returned, ushering in a period of medieval barbarism. A remnant of the highly civilized folk took refuge in a district called Tamputocco, where some remnants of the old civilization were protected from the invaders by the inaccessible character of the country. Here the fugitives multiplied. Their descendants were more civilized and more powerful than their neighbors, and in time became crowded, and started out to acquire

a better and more extensive territory. The legend relates that out of a hill with three openings or windows there came three tribes. These tribes eventually settled at Cuzco and founded the Inca empire. Tampu means "tavern," and toco a "window." The Spaniards were told that Tamputocco was not far from Cuzco, at a place called Paccaritampu, but the exact locality of Tamputocco is uncertain. So far no place answering to its description has been located. It seems to me that there is a possibility that the refuge of this pre-Inca fugi

E

LSA thought she had known what love was when, at sixteen, she allowed a boy at high school to carry her books for her. She had not known, however. Now at night she would crumple up at the bedside, her head among the covers, and ask herself why she had to suffer so, such ecstasy and despair were hers during these midwinter days.

For she had come from western Maryland five years before, when she was eighteen; come alone to Pittsburg, armed only with a small inheritance from her mother, to go through the university and then the medical college, drawn by the promise of a great career. All had gone well until the money was largely spent; then she had studied stenography in the summer, and early in the fall secured some secretarial night-work with a Mr. Fitch, a social worker in the Children's Society. But she had not worked for this powerful young man more than a few nights when she found herself obsessed by his personality; day by day she felt the growing danger of love for him; and finally, on a stormy evening, the matter had reached a crisis: he had plainly intimated that he wanted a wife who was "feminine" and "old-fashioned," and he had plainly intimated that he wished she were that woman.

Three months had passed since then. But each day she relived the event: the narrow office on the seventh floor of the Keystone Building, the rain on the window, the powerful young man dominating her from his revolving-chair as she sat at the desk and took his dictation, the feeling that her career was in the balance, that the many desperate years of training for her work in medicine might be thrown away; for Mr. Fitch was outspoken in his contempt of women doctors, and equally outspoken in his determination to get married. She had saved herself narrowly she had told him that she had her own life to live, and she had resigned her position. She thought herself free.

But now she knew, or thought she knew, what love was. It was a fever and a forgetfulness; it was a beast, sometimes an angel, that lived in her against her will; it was the compression of her whole nature into, as it were, one knife of passion; it was hunger and thirst and restless desire. It was as if she had had a blow over the head so that she had lost one part of her spirit, but only to find a greater part. The intensity with which she lived was a terror and a sharp joy.

And so her work at the medical college languished; her ambition dwindled; and as her money was all gone, her future was but a broken thing in her hands. For five years she had toiled steadily and alone; and now, without warning, she had reached the apparent end.

She was sure of this on a December afternoon as she sat at her typewritingmachine in the hall bedroom at Mrs. Mayhew's. Previously she and her young friend, Enid Wardell, had shared the large front room down stairs, but Enid had since married, and so Elsa had been forced to move. Yes, she thought this afternoon, and might be forced to move farther. Her poverty was unbelievable.

The large room had been warmed by a radiator; the small room had only a little gas-stove set on the floor beside the unsteady table that held the typewriter; and, although the stove flamed and its sooty smell filled the air, Elsa had to wear a woolen sweater to keep warm. Her fingers were stiff, and it was difficult for her to tap the keys.

Though it was only three in the afternoon, the gray smokes of Pittsburg suggested twilight; she was thinking of lighting the gas above her head, for the manuscript she was copying was becoming illegible. This manuscript represented an attempt to make money, the following of a suggestion made by a medical student that, as she had failed to find work-and it was only part-time