The city of the future sprawled over the western bank of the Schuylkill River, near the Philadelphia city line. Over two hundred buildings and brightly colored pavilions covered 285 acres, celebrating the first 100 years of American progress. On this bright Pennsylvania Day, 1876, railroads, streetcars and steamboats rushed as many as 22,000 visitors to the Centennial Exposition every hour. Over a period of five months, nearly eight million visitors had swarmed through the Exposition. Americans from every state and dignitaries from around the world attended for an admission fee of 50 cents.
    Three fashionably dressed young women stood beneath a flagpole in front of the Main Exhibition Hall. Above them a white flag with the word PROGRESS in red letters fluttered lightly in the breeze. Nearby, at the Judge's Pavilion, the Theodore Thomas Orchestra and 1,000 voices celebrated John Greenleaf Whittier's Centennial Hymn:

    Oh make Thou us, through centuries long
    In peace secure, in justice strong;
    Around our gift of freedom draw
    The safeguards of Thy righteous law:
    And, cast in some diviner mould,
    Let the new cycle shame the old!

    "I've never seen so many people in one place," Christine Thompson said quietly as she slowly took a seat on a long white bench facing the Main Exhibition Hall. Greta plopped down to her left and Amelia scooted in from her right.
    Christine adjusted her straw hat. The afternoon sun lit her strawberry blond hair as it cascaded over her shoulders. She wore a burgundy cape over her white dress.
    "What a wonderful surprise," Christine said with a smile, "bringing me here for my birthday. I can't thank you both enough."
    "It's your twenty-first birthday," Greta beamed. She twirled her red, white and blue silk parasol. "When I turn twenty-one, I hope my friends will do something equally nice for me!"
    Amelia cupped her hand over her mouth and giggled.
    Greta looked over quizzically. "What?"
    Amelia adjusted the red bow on the front of her yellow dress, then her braided black hair. "Yes, of course, we're here to celebrate Christine's birthday."
    Greta stopped her parasol and shot Amelia a withering glare.
    Christine sighed. Obviously, Greta and Amelia shared a secret, a secret Christine was not privy to. But rather than let their silliness ruin her day, she turned her attention to the tremendous building in front of her.
    She had heard that the Main Hall covered twenty-one acres under one roof. Dozens of flags high atop the mammoth structure rippled in the light breeze. Long rows of horse-drawn carriages packed with visitors of all ages rolled by on the wide avenue. Everyone was wide-eyed and open-mouthed, admiring the sights and crowds.
    "It's an entire mile from one end to the other," Greta said smugly, snapping her parasol closed. "This is my fifth visit and I still haven't seen it all."
    Christine peered up from under the straw rim of her hat at the flag. She listened as the majestic choir and orchestra concluded the hymn's final refrain, applause rolling across the exposition grounds. Christine swelled with pride.
    The nation was changing so quickly, standing on the threshold of true greatness. Christine could not help but wonder where the nation would find itself in another hundred years. How far would America's ideals of freedom progress? And what role would women play?
    For a moment, Christine smiled. She thought back to early that morning when she had wandered through Machinery Hall and had used something called a typewriter. For fifty cents, she had pressed small, round metal buttons called keys that transferred inked letters to a piece of paper. Included in the fifty cents was the price of an envelope and stamp, which she used to mail her letter to her best friend, Angelina MacDonald, who now lived in Gettysburg with her husband.
    Greta snickered, pointing across the avenue. "There goes Abigail Johnston. Look at her old hoop skirt-she's so out of style!"
    Christine pressed her lips tightly together. Young women like Greta and Amelia had a lot of growing up to do if they ever wanted to have an important role in the nation's glorious future!
    Christine bolted erect as something sharp poked her ribs. She spun to find Greta withdrawing the tip of her parasol.
    "I think I see James coming our way," Greta whispered.
    With a mischievous grin, a young man strode toward them. He wore a tan top hat, brown waistcoat and fancy striped trousers.
    "Good afternoon!" James bowed and removed his hat in one smooth motion.
    Greta stepped forward. "This is Christine, the daughter of Reverend Thompson, pastor of the Second Methodist Church. Today is her twenty-first birthday. And you know Amelia."
   Amelia's milky white face suddenly turned a rosy red.
   James grinned and pointed at the flag. "And what a fine place to meet, Greta. I could see the flag all the way from the entrance."
    Greta smiled and batted her eyelashes.
    Suddenly, Christine understood the secret Greta and Amelia shared! All along, Greta had planned to meet James, using Christine's birthday as a ruse.
    "Can you believe this place?" James asked with a broad sweep of his arms. Then, with a deft movement of his hand, he flipped his hat onto his head and tapped it into place. "And I've never seen so many bicycles. I'll have to ask Father to buy me one."
    "A two-seater, I hope!" Greta said, popping open her parasol and narrowly missing Christine.
    "All it takes is a warm day and the exhibits feel like an oven!" explained James. "Have you tried the Ice Water Fountain?"
    "Yes, but I'll go again. These concrete paths feel like lava beneath my feet," Greta pouted.
    As Christine watched Greta walk arm in arm with James, memories came rushing in of a young man who, four years ago, had offered Christine his arm. But Adam Vestry didn't care about fancy hats and flashy moves like James. And Adam worked hard for everything he owned. He was resourceful and determined to do what was right, even if doing right cost him his reputation. But Adam had left Philadelphia to start a new life in New York City four years ago, just before Angelina had married and moved to Gettysburg. In fact, all of her true friends had left Philadelphia.
    After quenching their thirst and enduring Greta's giggles at the Ice Water Fountain, Christine and Amelia followed James and Greta to the lake and stood beside the 35-foot-tall, copper-plated arm, hand and torch of the Statue of Liberty. But of all the inventions they saw that afternoon, the one that most captured Greta and Amelia's fancy was a device called the telephone. With a telephone, two people in different places could actually talk to each other over a wire.
    Christine stopped beneath a tall pole supporting a gigantic, white-faced clock with gold-plated hands nearly six feet long. She wished her life and friendships would progress as fast as the nation. Amelia was too shy and immature. Eighteen-year-old Greta acted even younger. And when they were together-well, sometimes Christine could hardly bear it!
    As the giant hands above Christine's head struck the five o'clock hour, James and Greta were nowhere in sight. A weary Christine pulled Amelia aside.
    "I'm going to find a bench at the front entrance and wait for your parents."
    "I'll come, too," chirped Amelia.
    As they approached the main gate, the smell of fresh breads, roasted meats and sausages, onions, and a mix of spices wafted stronger. Vendors crowded the wide avenue just outside the gates, and long lines of thirsty visitors snaked through the crowds to the soda fountains both inside and outside the gate.
    Amelia's parents were already waiting for them. Mrs. Berger stepped quickly out of her carriage.
    "Where's Greta?"
    "She'll be along . . . eventually," Christine replied as she noticed the concern edging Mrs. Berger's eyes and mouth.
    Amelia's mother placed a trembling hand on Christine's shoulder.
    "We've got to get you home, right now. It's your father. He collapsed at his desk after lunch and he won't come to."