Samantha at the World's Fair Part 56

"Babe will prize that picter, Josiah Allen."

And he sez, "Be a fool if you want to; I'm a-goin' to git sunthin' to eat."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Be a fool if you want to."]

And he hurried me along at almost a dog-trot, but I would stop to look at a "Spring Day in Bavaria," and the "Fish Market in Amsterdam," and the "Nun," and some others, I would--they wuz all beautiful in the extreme.

Wall, after we come back into the gallery agin, the first picter we went to see wuz "Christ Before Pilate," by Mr. Muncaxey.

There He stood, the Man of Sorrows, with His tall figure full of patient dignity, and His face full of love, and pity, and anguish, all bent into a indescribable majesty and power.

His hands wuz bound, He stood there the centre of that sneering, murderous crowd of priests and pharisees. On every side of Him He would meet a look of hate and savage exultation in His misery.

And He, like a lamb before the shearers, wuz dumb, bearing patiently the sins and sorrows of a world.

The fate of a universe looked out of His deep, sweet eyes.

He could bear it all--the hate, all the ignominy, the cruel death drawin' so near--He could bear it all through love and pity--the highest heights love ever went, and the deepest pity.

Only one face out of that jeerin', evil crowd had a look of pity on't, and that wuz the one woman in the throng, and she held a child in her arms.

Mebby Love had taught her the secret of Grief.

Anyway, she looked as if she pitied Him and would have loosed His bonds if she could. It wuz a dretful impressive picter, one that touched the most sacred feelin's of the beholder.

There wuz a great fuss made over Alma Tadema's picter of "Crowning Bachus."

But I didn't approve on't.

The girls' figgers in it wuz very beautiful, with the wonderful floatin'

hair of red gold crowned with roses.

But I wanted to tell them girls that after they got Mr. Bachus all crowned, he'd turn on 'em, and jest as like as not pull out hull handfuls of that golden hair, and kick at 'em, and act.

Mr. Bachus is a villain of the deepest dye. I felt jest like warnin'

'em.

I like Miss Tadema's picters enough sight better--pretty little girls playin' innocent games, and dreamin' sweet fancies By the Fireside.

"The Flaggalants," by Carl Marr, is a enormous big picter, but fearful to look at.

It made me feel real bad to see how them men wuz a-hurtin' their own selves. They hadn't ort to.

Another picter by the same artist, called "A Summer Afternoon," I liked as well agin; the soul of the pleasant summer-time looked out of that picter, and the faces of the wimmen and children in it.

The little one clingin' to its mother's hand and feedin' the chickens looked cute enough to kiss. She favored Babe a good deal in her looks.

"The Cemetery in Delmatia" and the "Market Scene in Cairo," by Leopold Muller, struck hard blows onto my fancy. And so did three by Madame Weisenger--

"Mornin' by the Sea-sh.o.r.e," "Breakfast in the Country," and "The Laundress of the Mountain."

"Christ and the Children," by Julius Schmid, wuz beautiful as could be.

And so wuz "The Death of Autumn," by Franz Pensinger--they held in 'em all the sadly glorious beauty of the closing year.

"The Three Beggars of Cordova," by Edwin Weeks, wuz dretful interestin'.

Them tramps set there lookin' so sa.s.sy, and lazy, nateral as life. Lots of jest such ones have importuned me for food on my Jonesville door-step.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Them tramps set there lookin' so sa.s.sy and lazy, nateral as life.]

Then he had two Hindoo fakirs that wuz real interestin'. The fur-off Indian city, the river, and the fakir a-layin' in the boat, tired out, I presoom, a-makin' folks stand up in the air, and climb up ladders into Nowhere, and eatin' swords, and eatin' fire, and etcetry.

He wuz beat out, and no wonder. The colorin' of this picter is superb.

And so wuz his "Persian Horse Dealers" and others.

Mr. Melcher's "Sermon" and "Communion" wuz very impressive, as nateral as the meetin'-housen and congregation at Jonesville and Zoar.

In the Holland Exhibit wuz all kinds of clouds painted--

Clouds a-layin' low in sombre piles, and clouds with the sun almost a-s.h.i.+nin' through 'em. Wonderful effects as I ever see.

And I wuz a-lookin' at a picter there so glowin' and beautiful that it seemed to hold in it the very secret of summer. The heart fire and glow of summer shone through its fine atmosphere. And sez I, "Josiah, did you ever see anything like it?"

"Oh, yes," sez he; "it's quite fair."

"Fair!" sez I; "can't you say sunthin' more than that?"

"Wall, from fair to middlin', then," sez he.

"But for real beauty," sez he, "give me them picters made in corn, and oats, and beans. Give me that Dakota cow made out of grain, with a tail of timothy gra.s.s, and straw legs, and corn ear horns. There is real beauty," sez he.

"Or that picter in the State Buildin' of the hull farm made in seeds.

The old bean farm-house, and barley well-sweep, and the fields bounded with corn twig fences, and horses made of silk-weed, and manes and tales of corn-silk--there is beauty," sez he.

"And as for statutes, I'd ruther see one of them figgers that Miss Brooks of Nebraska makes out of b.u.t.ter than a hull carload of marble figgers."

I sithed a deep, curious sithe, and he went on:

"Why," sez he, "it stands to reason they're more valuable; what good would the stun be to you if a marble statute got smashed? A dead loss on your hands.

"But let one of her Iolanthes git knocked over and broke to pieces, why there you are, good, solid b.u.t.ter, worth 30 cents of any man's money.

"Give me statuary that is ornamental in prosperity, and that you can eat up if reverses come to you," sez he.

"Why," sez he, "there is one hundred kinds of grain in that one model farm of Illinois.

"Now, if that picter should git torn to pieces by a cyclone, what would a ile paintin' be? A dead loss.