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THE 
 
 FAIREST OF THE FAIR 
 
 BY 
 
 HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 HENRY ALTEMUS 
 1894 
 
 ->- 
 
Copyrighted by Henry Altemus, 1894 
 
 
 ALTEMUS 
 BOOK BINDERY 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 3 
 
 and ruffles the surface of the Lagoon, on which 
 ghde back and forth gondolas and launches, 
 the gondoliers moving with a rhythmical mo- 
 tion, and the brilliant sashes round their waists 
 adding a touch of lovely color. There is a 
 sound of talk and laughter in the air, and peo- 
 ple move to and fro, across the bridges, and in 
 and out of the buildings. Suddenly, a strain 
 of music radiates outward, and from one of the 
 white pavilions with a peacock-blue roof, in 
 front of the Administration, a band breaks 
 forth into a Strauss waltz. 
 
 You sit down on one of the benches, and 
 with the music in your ears, you let your eyes 
 rest on the fountain. How beautiful it is ! A 
 graceful barge, oared by eight nymphs, and 
 steered by Time, who has bound his scythe to 
 the rudder-post for a tiller. On the bows is 
 winged Fame, standing light-footed, the trum- 
 pet in her hand. And throned high on a tri- 
 umphal chair in the centre, is the Spirit of the 
 Fair — Columbia. She sits erect ; the robe has 
 fallen from her lovely body, and hes across 
 her knees. Her scarf flutters behind her ; her 
 head is proudly hfted, as who should say to 
 the Old World entering at her gates, " Behold 
 
4 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 what I have done!" Round the barge mer- 
 maids and dolphins sport, and tritons astride 
 plunging horses clear a path through the water. 
 The rustling of the cataract mingles with the 
 music, and drifts away over the Lagoon. You 
 look and look. Every moment some new 
 beauty meets your sight, and what you have 
 seen grows more lovely. 
 
 Yonder, over by the Peristyle, in the angles 
 of the wings (Music Hall and the Casino), are 
 two little Greek Vestal temples, pure white out- 
 side, and delicately tinted within. Broad flights 
 of steps lead from the Lagoon to the Buildings 
 of Agriculture, and of Liberal Arts ; and on 
 the right bank, two colossal bulls with maid- 
 ens at their sides, face two mighty horses with 
 ploughboys on the other side of the water. 
 On the walls of Agricultural Palace are painted 
 allegorical figures of sun-tanned nymphs, in- 
 stinct with life and motion. Behind the 
 columns of the Peristyle gleams in ever-chang- 
 ing color the great Lake. 
 
 Time is lost here. You glance at the foun- 
 tain — and lo ! an hour has gone by. You turn 
 and look down the Lagoon, and the ringing of 
 the chimes in Machinery Hall reminds you 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 5 
 
 dreamily that the morning has passed, and it 
 is noon. But it matters not. You feel with a 
 sumptuous delight that an hour, a day, a week, 
 are unmeaning terms to you here ; you count 
 by shadows on the walls, by the rhythm of 
 the fountain, by the sweet silences of the 
 buildings. 
 
 Yet even here, in this lovely Court, there are 
 some things which are not perfect. Perhaps it 
 is as well that this should be so, for it reminds 
 you that the work has been really done by 
 man after all, and has not been conjured out 
 of the white clouds by the music of some an- 
 gel's voice. 
 
 On the bridges are the figures of eight wild 
 animals. Two on each bridge are by Edward 
 Kemeys, and two by some one called Proctor. 
 Kemeys's are the two grizzlies on the north 
 and the two buffalo on the south bridge. It is 
 not only because these animals are true to 
 life — that the posing fine and original — that 
 you look so often at them, always with the re- 
 sult of seeing something new to admire ; it is 
 because they possess that touch of the ideal — 
 that suggestion of the soul — which, lacking in 
 the real animal, is bestowed by the magic of 
 
6 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 art. Hence they can never weary you, any 
 more than the blue Lagoon could, or the roses 
 in Wooded Island. But the other animals, by 
 Proctor — what strange things are these ! Such 
 bundles, and lumps, and shaky, incoherent 
 legs ! Come ! fortunately they are easy to 
 f(>rget. 
 
 At the foot of the steps leading down from 
 ]\[achinery Hall half a dozen gondolas are al- 
 ways lying, waiting for passengers. The gon- 
 doliers lounge about in listless attitudes, or sit 
 eating their lunch, and conversing rapidly in 
 their soft language ; broad-brimmed hats, with 
 a ribbon matching the sash about their waists, 
 shading their brown faces and black eyes. 
 Surely gondolas are the ideal boats to take you 
 about the lagoons ! 
 
 I step into a blue and silver one, and lean 
 back luxuriously against the cushions, letting 
 one hand hang over the side, that the rippling 
 water may occasionally touch it. I feel dream- 
 ily happy, and am ready for anything beauti- 
 ful. The gondoliers take their places, and lean 
 against the heavy sweeps. With an almost 
 imperceptible swaying motion, the graceful 
 gondola leaves the broad steps, passes under 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 7 
 
 the cool shadow of the bridge, and enters the 
 Central Lagoon. 
 
 Having surrendered myself to the winnin<^ 
 mystery of the water, it reveals to me a thou" 
 sand new beauties. Here is a glimmering and 
 elusive reflection of the golden dome, appear- 
 ing for a moment and then gone. The waters 
 of the fountain, cascading down the terraces, 
 are full of changing colors, and take a hundred 
 fanciful shapes. The white maiden on the 
 lofty seat seems to thrill with life caught from 
 the tall, sun-lit jets. The powerful tritons curb 
 their horses with difficulty. But now the gon- 
 dola turns, and moves down to the Republic 
 round whose head a couple of little birds are 
 fluttering. The dancing girls on the ruddy 
 walls of the Palace of Agriculture peep be- 
 tween the white pillars a trifle wistfully as if 
 they would not mind foregoing their duty of 
 adornment for awhile, and coming out here 
 with me. As we cross before the arch of the 
 Peristyle, I look through it over the long levels 
 of the Lake to the misty horizon. And now a 
 httle electric launch, slipping noiselessly by us 
 shatters the image of the Vestal Temple that a 
 moment before had trembled on the surface of 
 the Lagoon. 
 
8 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 The measured sound of the sweeps moving 
 in the rowlocks merges into the ripple of the 
 waves against the sides of the gondola, and 
 with the subdued murmur of the people pass- 
 ing on the banks, makes a kind of music, to 
 which the gondoliers, swaying back and forth, 
 give time. Now we leave the Grand Basin, 
 and enter another lagoon. On the right is the 
 Main Building, its great length and fair propor- 
 tions making me feel a serene and 
 „4^ "i pleasant wonder. But, imper- 
 ceptibly separating itself from 
 the other sounds, a con- 
 tented quack-quacking 
 from little ducks makes 
 itself audible. 
 ^. Sweeping out of 
 
 ■#^C\ ^ .. the shadow 
 
 of another 
 
 bridge, I see — 
 
 full of green lights, 
 
 and breathing forth a 
 
 medley of sweet odors. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 9 
 
 with the wind whispering through the leaves of 
 its trees, and waving its tall grasses — lovely 
 Wooded Island : Swans, ducks and pelicans are 
 swimming or wading along the sedgy banks, 
 and wild birds flit in and out between the 
 branches of the trees. Irises grow in blue 
 clumps, and white and yellow flowers twinkle 
 through the dark shadows underneath the 
 bushes. Here and there, through openings, as 
 the boat goes on, I catch glimpses of winding 
 paths and stretches of turf. The very water 
 has a woodland look, and ripples green amongst 
 the reeds and bushes, reflecting the fat white 
 ducks and stately swans, and coquetting with 
 the sunbeams which have managed to slip 
 through the leafy tangle. I feel sure that, 
 peeping through some especially thick clump 
 of flowery shrubbery — could I but catch a 
 glimpse of him — is the brown and laughing 
 face of a satyr, who, having lost his reckoning, 
 fancies himself in the Golden Age, on one of 
 the islands of the Grecian Archipelago. And, 
 as I glance around, and see the white palaces, 
 the lofty pillars, the graceful curves of bridges, 
 the blue water lying v/ithin marble margins ; 
 and hear the sound of distant music, and smell 
 
lo The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 the perfume of roses — I find it very easy to 
 believe him right ! 
 
 But all this while we have been floating on- 
 ward, and now we are abreast of the Japanese 
 tea-house, with its quaint and charming little 
 garden, enclosed by a green bamboo fence. 
 Bamboo tables, mats and stools are scattered 
 about, and to and fro move just the people 
 suited to the dainty place. They wear grace- 
 ful costumes of dull silken blues and browns, 
 with touches of crimson and gold, and all their 
 ways are soft and gentle. There is a low 
 clinking of cups and saucers, and I fancy that 
 I hear the tinkle of a stringed instrument com- 
 ing from within the cottage. 
 
 Ever and anon we pass other gondolas, and 
 I feel a sort of bond between the people in 
 them and myself. For are they not also in 
 Dreamland with me, removed by countless 
 ages from the rest of the world ? Occasionally, 
 too, my gondoliers and those of another boat 
 will exchange a greeting in musical Itahan, and 
 nod their heads to one another, laughmg. And 
 once in a while my companion or I murmur 
 some word of delight, or draw each other's at- 
 tention to some lovely object. But chiefly we 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 1 1 
 
 are silent, for words are unsatisfying and super- 
 fluous. 
 
 As we return round Wooded Island, every- 
 thing takes on new aspects. On the right bank 
 are several pretty buildings, and, gHttering in 
 the sun, the vast crystal dome of Horticultural 
 Hall swells like a giant soap bubble against 
 the sky. There, too, breaking rudely into the 
 warm whites that make so harmonious a whole, 
 is a red and gold and silver and green build- 
 ing, whose fair outlines are disguised beneath 
 the thickness of its many coats of paint. It is 
 a great pity. I am glad to turn away from it, 
 and to look up at the gold cupolas of Elec- 
 tricity Building, behind which a glorious mass 
 of snowy cloud has heaped itself. While I am 
 still gazing thereon, we pass under the shadow 
 of the bridge, and are once again in the Grand 
 Basin. Machinery Hall is almost opposite, and 
 I notice for the first time its two different and 
 lovely entrances. The play of the fountain has 
 intermitted, and the stiller water reflects more 
 distinctly the lofty towers of the building, albeit 
 the image is continually ruffled by passing 
 boats. 
 
 And now the sweet, slight motion of the 
 
12 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 gondola ceases, and we get out, and go slowly 
 up the broad steps which we descended — when 
 was it ? Perhaps years ago ! I look back, 
 almost expecting to find that the gondola, with 
 its two brown gondoliers, has vanished like a 
 fairy illusion. But no ; there it is, floating 
 lightly on the Lagoon, while the men lounge 
 in the shade thrown by one of the big horses 
 *;hat stand overlooking the water. 
 
II. 
 
 When the band is playing in the plaza before 
 the Administration Building, the benches are 
 generally filled with people. Many of them 
 sit as close as they can get to the band-stand, 
 with their backs to the Lagoon, watching the 
 movements of the leader's baton, or the uni- 
 forms of the players. They are probably the 
 same variety of humanity which, in country 
 places, builds ugly httle houses facing a dusty 
 highway, while behind, and additionally hidden 
 by a huge pile of firewood, lies a glorious view 
 of sky and water and golden fields. 
 
 But the greater number sit in happy quiet- 
 ness, looking over the Lagoon, and at the 
 fountain. You see people you would scarcely 
 expect to find in such a place. Here, leaning 
 against the balustrade which encircles the foun- 
 tain, his head bent back, staring up at the 
 rounded curve of the Administration's dome, 
 is an old farmer, in a rusty black suit, with a 
 collarless shirt and a broad-brimmed hat. His 
 
 13 
 
14 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 face is struggling to express an intricacy of new 
 emotions, but succeeds only in looking dazed. 
 After a while, he moves on towards Agricultural 
 Palace, where he is sure of finding something 
 which he can thoroughly master. 
 
 Beside you is an unmistakable Irish cook. 
 She is examining earnestly the mermaids of 
 the fountain. Presently, turning toward you, 
 she murmurs in an awed voice, " Is it craters 
 like them that be in the say ? Howly Mother 
 of God, but what a wonderful place it is ! 
 Women wid tails like the fishes !" And mut- 
 tering exclamations of wonder and delight, she 
 passes on. 
 
 If you are inexperienced, you may, in at- 
 tempting to reach any desired spot, try to 
 shorten the way by going through one or other 
 of the buildings which intervene. But after 
 you have in this way missed one or two im- 
 portant engagements, you learn always to go 
 round outside when in a hurry. No matter 
 how determined you may be to go straight 
 through a building, or how little you may look 
 to the right hand or to the left, something is 
 certain to catch your attention, and then you 
 are lost. The Liberal Arts Building is especially 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 1 5 
 
 perilous. However, this will not really prevent 
 you from going through the buildings ; it will 
 simply cure you of being in a hurry. 
 
 At first you are bewildered by the enormous 
 quantity of things to be seen ; but presently 
 you find out that the way to do is to forget that 
 anything exists except the particular building, 
 or statue, or picture, or bronze, or necklace, at 
 which you happen to be looking. This is soon 
 learnt, and thenceforward you are all right. 
 You are never confused, and you remember 
 perfectly just what and where is everything that 
 has delighted you. ^ 
 
 There are really three worlds at the Fair, 
 utterly distinct and different. The lovely 
 buildings, the lagoons, the broad walks, the 
 statues and flowers and green turf, the arch of 
 the sky, flooded with sunHght, or misty under 
 the moon — all these are one world. Inside the 
 many buildings is another world, intricate and 
 wonderful ; and Midway Plaisance is the third. 
 Perhaps the three were better called a Trinity, 
 of which the first is the soul, the second the 
 mind, and the last the body. [ 
 
 There is no one view of the Arts Building of 
 which one may say "This is the loveliest!" 
 
1 6 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 However, I have said it of each one separately, 
 for each is so perfect that its beauty leaves one 
 no room for memory or anticipation, but fills 
 one with deep satisfaction — with the happiness 
 of simply lookijig, full of content, and yet ever 
 desiring more. 
 
 I liked to stand with my back to the Illinois 
 Building — (a wise thing to do always, for the 
 Building is an ugly one) — and look across the 
 lagoon to where one wing, white-columned, 
 strong, seeming to have stood from eternity, 
 and to be beyond time's touch, lies along the 
 water's edge in breathless loveliness. On a 
 pedestal in the centre of the broad flight of 
 steps leading upwards from the lagoon, is the 
 colossal statue of the Medici Minerva ; a god- 
 dess indeed, standing where only a goddess 
 could stand, and look more beautiful. Building 
 and statue are both perfect in themselves, and 
 yet each is better for the other. The blue 
 water changes here to white, with silvery lights 
 and shadows, through which the reflection of 
 the rounded pillars, the steps and arches gleam 
 tremulously, sometimes almost complete, and 
 then vanishing, only to be formed once more 
 in the still depths of the lagoon. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 1 7 
 
 After gazing long at this, I would walk round 
 to the other side and sit on a bench near the 
 New York House, and look again. Here the 
 central part of the Building is directly in front, 
 with the wings on either side. There are broad 
 lawns here, and some distance in front of the 
 Building is the noble statue of the Emperor 
 Augustus. This palace is somehow like Silence 
 turned to marble. The grandly simple out- 
 lines, the grey shadows on white walls and 
 pillars, the curve of the arches and the low 
 domes, the harmonious decorations, and the 
 dignity and sweetness of it all, seem the incar- 
 nation of an unuttered poem. An ideal, not of 
 the silence of Nothingness, but of that Silence, 
 surpassing and embracing all beautiful sounds, 
 which crowns the summits of mighty moun- 
 tains, and dwells in the depths of the sky and 
 the ocean. Truly a perfect building, if there 
 be one in this world ! 
 
 But in addition to these kings and queens of 
 architecture, there are many minor buildings, 
 certain views, or groups, effects of light and 
 shade, lovely vistas suddenly revealed as you 
 saunter along, and which, as you have found 
 them for yourself and by yourself, you grow to 
 
1 8 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 love particularly — these lesser things are not 
 less worthy in their measure. Walking back 
 from the Midway to the Grand Basin, I liked 
 to take the path between Electricity and Mines, 
 for there I got an especially lov^ely view of 
 Administration ; and at night, when the moon 
 was full, there was a moment when it would 
 balance its serene silver globe right above the 
 golden dome, as though some spirit of the air 
 had playfully and wisely placed it there, to add 
 the finishing touch to the beautiful creation of 
 Man. If so, then this same spirit played other 
 pranks with fair Diana ; for one evening, while 
 she was yet crescent, and floating in a rosy 
 sunset sky, he poised her right over the exqui- 
 site minaret in Cairo street — a celestial compli- 
 ment, indeed, to the Sublime Porte ! 
 
 I was surprised to see how many people 
 make a dreadful duty of "seeing the Fair." 
 Loaded down with guide-books, pads, pencils 
 and bags, with an expression of hopeless wear- 
 iness and discouragement, they stagger along, 
 carrying an ever-increasing load of woe. For 
 each minute spent in looking at a building or 
 picture, three are wasted in a minute study of 
 the guide-book. Not, presumably, Jiaving 
 
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The Fairest of the Fair. 21 
 
 much time, they do not pause, should any- 
 thing please them particularly, to take delight 
 in it ; but pass on to what comes next, and 
 glare at that, and so on, until they drop ex- 
 hausted on a bench, too tired and cross to 
 notice even the loveliness before their eyes, 
 restful though its harmonious strength or sweet 
 simplicity may be. These misguided creatures 
 turn heaven to hell. They never realize that 
 if they have but a day, two days, a week, or 
 what not, it is better to spend it seeing some 
 one thing, and studying its beauty until they 
 feel it has become a part of themselves, and 
 that they can always remember it with happi- 
 ness, — than to rush and hufry from object to 
 object, recollecting nothing, learning nothing, 
 and losing what they might have had because 
 they insanely coveted all. 
 
 On the north end of Wooded Island are 
 three Japanese houses. Every part of them is 
 perfect ; and the more I examined them, the 
 more I found to admire in their exquisite work- 
 manship, in the combination of the different 
 woods, and in the coloring. 
 
 For a long time they were closed ; but one 
 morning I found to my delight that at last the 
 
 3 
 
22 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 gliding partitions had been drawn back and I 
 could look into the dainty rooms. One of 
 these rooms seemed to be a kitchen, or per- 
 haps a dining-room, or both. The floor is 
 covered (as in all the rest) with matting of 
 cream color, and the junction-lines of the mats 
 are covered with strips of some fabric orna- 
 mented with a running pattern in grey. In 
 the middle of the room are several little lac- 
 quer-work tables, holding small pots and pans 
 — of burnished copper, I think — and lovely 
 tea-pots, cups and other utensils. Every- 
 thing is cleaner than the most careful and par- 
 ticular of Yankee housewives ever dreamed of. 
 There is, indeed, fiothing to attract dirt. The 
 paper walls, which slide back and forth, are of 
 delicate tints, sometimes with fans painted on 
 therfi, or some long-legged storks and a few 
 rushes, or a flight of little birds. The white 
 matting, one or two beautiful vases, and a little 
 lacquer-work table are the chief furniture. In 
 one of the rooms there are also some lamps 
 with tall, slender stems and colored shades, 
 and a few musical instruments, fascinating to 
 look upon. And here and there are gorgeous 
 jars, in which are artificial chrysanthemums 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 23 
 
 and other flowers, copied to the life, and yet 
 with a sHght conventional touch which keeps 
 them from being only copies. What quaint 
 and curious little dwellings these are, and how 
 beautiful ! If we had to live in houses like 
 these, would we gradually become as gentle 
 and courteous and soft-spoken as the little 
 people who built them ? Or, if we should 
 build houses that suited us as well as these do 
 the Japanese — what a queer variety of them 
 there would be, to be sure ! 
 
 If the wind is from the right direction one is 
 aware of the existence of the Rose Garden 
 long before coming upon it. I found it within 
 a low fence ; grass-bordered paths wind to- 
 wards it, with occasional beds of flowers, or 
 clumps of shrubs. The perfume, now strong, 
 now fainter, blew about me, and now I could 
 see the roses themselves. 
 
 Some are little trees, covered with red and 
 pink flowers, and standing up proudly, as well 
 they may. Here is a bed of low bushes, and 
 all the roses on them are pale yellow, with 
 golden hearts. Some tumble about recklessly, 
 with a generous flood of blossoms ; and some 
 lean against little sticks and hold up one per- 
 
24 
 
 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 feet flower. Along the borders of the beds 
 honeysuckle is twined, and there are other 
 flowers, but the roses did not let me look at 
 these much. Even the Lake wind is soft here, 
 and lingers lovingly, barely shaking off the 
 curled petals of the very fullest-blown rose in 
 all the garden. 
 
III. 
 
 I HAVE spent many an hour wandering 
 among the bronzes and marbles which France, 
 Italy and Russia show in their exhibits in the 
 Liberal Arts Building. 
 
 Those in the French department are always 
 delicate and graceful, and many are beautiful. 
 Some of Barye's groups are here, a few with 
 human figures, but chiefly little casts of his 
 best-known animals. These are interesting, 
 the whole conception being fine, and every 
 detail worked out ; and yet they always seem 
 to me to be more like animals on parade than 
 as though they were simply living their own 
 wild lives, without bothering about their ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 There are many nude figures of women, one 
 especially lovely Diana, gracefully erect, with 
 her bow in her hand. She has a bewitching 
 air of lithe dignity and wildness, well-suited 
 to her. There are also little costumed figures, 
 as pretty as one can wish. The Russian 
 
 25 
 
26 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 bronzes are much more elaborate than the 
 French ; generally groups of oxen dragging 
 ploughs, or horses plunging and rearing with 
 sleighs or carts. I liked them greatly, there is 
 so much in each, without confusion. If you 
 have been to Buffalo Bill's Wild West, which 
 is encamped just outside the Fair Grounds, you 
 may remember the Cossack who rides round 
 the arena standing up, with his feet in the stir- 
 rups crossed over the saddle. As I was look- 
 ing at these bronzes, I came across a group of 
 a horse and man riding in this way. The Cos- 
 sack had the rein over his right arm, and was 
 partly turned round, in the act of firing a long 
 musket at some one. The horse, suddenly 
 arrested, is crouching back with his fore-feet 
 barely touching the ground, and his head pulled 
 up by the rein. Everything about the group 
 shows the suddenness with which the rapid 
 motion of a moment ago has been checked ; in 
 another instant, horse and rider will be dash- 
 ing on again, faster than ever. 
 
 Among the beautiful nymphs and goddesses, 
 village maids and little children, carved out of 
 Carrara and Parian marble, in the Itahan 
 exhibit, was one figure of Marguerite in the 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 27 
 
 pretty Gretchen dress, with wavy hair, and a 
 sweet, innocent face. The figure is not remark- 
 able at a first glance, either for originality or 
 excellence. However, as I was about to pass 
 on, I noticed that a mirror behind Marguerite 
 did not reflect her long braids and pretty 
 shoulders, but, instead, the sly eyes and sneer- 
 ing mouth of Mephistopheles looked at me 
 mockingly from the clear glass. The back of 
 the statue had been carved into another figure. 
 The effect was rather ghastly ; and on looking 
 again at Marguerite, it seemed as though the 
 devil's ugly sneer was lurking in her smile. 
 Having once seen him, his influence spread 
 over what before was innocent and lovely, and 
 caused a feehng of horror to arise. I hope 
 there are few such statues. 
 
 In some of the figures, especially of Moors 
 and Dancing Girls, bronze and marble are 
 combined. The face, arms and feet are metal, 
 and the flowing robes and burnouses of white 
 marble. The effect is striking and pretty. 
 
 In the Japanese exhibit in the same Building 
 is — or was — a group of two wrestlers. The 
 men are not a foot in height, and perfect in 
 every detail ; hair, eyes, expression, color — all 
 
2^ The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 exactly reproduced. The pose is splendid, and 
 one of the men — the larger — has slightly the 
 advantage ; yet so very sHght that I found my- 
 self holding my breath and waiting for the final 
 struggle which must instantly take place. The 
 smaller one seems to be the quicker and 
 cleverer, and perhaps after all, thought I . . . 
 when I remembered that they would probably 
 stay as they were for some time at least. 
 Curiously enough, you do not notice their size 
 after a moment, nor think whether they are 
 large or small. They seem two wrestling men 
 — neither more nor less. 
 
 Everything in this Japanese exhibit is beauti- 
 ful, except the things that are meant to be 
 grotesque — like the masks, for instance, which 
 are hideous enough to give any well-trained 
 child the nightmare. There is one blue vase 
 I should like to have where I could always see 
 it ; of perfect shape and color, with an iris or 
 two painted on it. There are vases of all 
 shapes, colors and styles of decoration, con- 
 sorting with beauty ; exquisitely carved cabinets 
 with innumerable shding-doors and drawers 
 and niches, fascinating to look upon. There 
 are carvings in ivory, too ; but better ones can 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 29 
 
 be seen in the Chinese exhibit at the other end 
 of the Building. The Chinese certainly have 
 an especial genius for this kind of carv- 
 ing ; no people, except possibly the Siamese, 
 can approach them in it. Their exhibit is 
 small, but you can spend a long time there. 
 Three or four Chinamen, in beautiful costumes, 
 saunter about, or fan themselves leisurely, 
 seated in carved and inlaid chairs. Their 
 queues touch the ground even when they stand 
 up. They have strange musical instruments, 
 covered with snake skin ; gnarled roots, freak- 
 ishly resembling monstrous animals, have had 
 shining eyes put in their heads, and the wood 
 is polished. Beautiful garments of such ex- 
 quisite colors that I wanted to put them on 
 instantly — even as I like to pick a flower when 
 I see it — hang against the walls. There is 
 a tiny vase with the remains of blue enamel on 
 it, and a dainty flower design, which is four 
 hundred years old, and belonged to some long 
 dead Chinese Emperor, who was probably ad- 
 miring it while Columbus was struggling with 
 circumstances for a look at these shores. I 
 found wonderful embroideries too, in rich colors 
 and intricate designs. There is a set of ivory 
 
3o The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 chess-men so marvelously wrought that they 
 look as if they needed but the chess-board to 
 become ahve and play the game themselves ; 
 — and if their souls correspond with their faces, 
 a very terrible game they would make of it ! 
 
 The Siamese Pagoda in this same Building 
 was brought from Siam in parts, and afterwards 
 put together here. It adjoins the various ex- 
 hibits of Great Britam, and looks like a rich 
 Oriental casket amongst a dingy array of shop- 
 cases. It is chiefly red and gold, and the 
 square pillars that support the curved roof are 
 set with sparkling bits of looking-glass in a 
 pattern. It is full of lovely things ; — yards 
 and yards of dull red silk, hand-painted in a 
 sort of stenciling of gold and black, which 
 must have been the work of years ; great bowls 
 of silver and brass, chased and hammered 
 beautifully, and of exquisite shape ; jewelry, 
 said to be two centuries old, and either ex- 
 ceedingly rich and massive — precious stones 
 set in bands of solid gold — or else bracelets 
 and rings of most fine and delicate workman- 
 ship. Outside the Pagoda are some gigantic 
 tusks, beautiful drums, gongs and other musi- 
 cal instruments, all of strange shapes and 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 3 1 
 
 sounds. The carvings in ivory are wonderful. 
 Two tusks are wrought with Httle figures of 
 men and animals, until they look like lace- 
 work, something after the manner of the Chi- 
 nese. There is much inlaid work, and some 
 landscapes done in mother-of-pearl, quaint and 
 lovely. There are also some small models of 
 houses in Bangkok, with wide verandas and 
 peaked roofs, looking cool and luxurious. No 
 matter how long I stayed in this Pagoda, I was 
 sure to catch a ghmpse of something new 
 every time I tried to go away ; so that I could 
 get off only by promising myself to return 
 later ; — and I kept the promise. 
 
 But there was no necessity of leaving the 
 Orient in the meanwhile. I crossed over to 
 the East Indian Room, a httle further north. 
 There is some horn-work there, which — could 
 the unfortunate animal from which the raw 
 material was taken but see it now, would 
 ravish him with delight, and he would bless 
 his slayer. Cabinets and screens, chairs and 
 tables of teak-wood, carved elaborately and 
 inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl, so that 
 you stand before them fascinated : strange 
 idols, rich embroideries, magic boxes, hangings 
 
32 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 in colors such as those that flood the sky at 
 sunset — not flaming, but subdued ; these are a 
 few of the wonders to be found there. 
 
 In the Bulgarian exhibit is a native, ready to 
 answer any questions, in pretty English, spoken 
 with a soft, slow voice. He was explaining, 
 while I was there, the dress of a Bulgarian 
 village girl to a superciHous old lady from the 
 West. The dress was of soft material, in dull 
 reds and blues, trimmed with heavy lace. " It 
 takes our girls many, many years to make so 
 much lace as is on this dress," he said ; " it is 
 all done by hand, careful and slow." " A 
 foolish way of wasting time!" interrupted the 
 old lady, with decision. " There ain't no 
 manner of use in spending years making lace, 
 when you can buy what'U do just as well for 
 ten cents a yard." " It is not that," answered 
 the Bulgarian ; " our girls love so much to 
 make beautiful things. The things are never 
 like one another ; each girl makes her own ; 
 and it is handed down for many hundred years, 
 sometimes. Always it is beautiful. Yoic make 
 everything by machine, you always in great 
 hurry, begin something else, never have enough 
 time. Perhaps you right ; but our way good, 
 too." 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 33 
 
 It is true. Too much of our life is spent in 
 making hundreds of things just Hke hundreds 
 of others. These Eastern people spend their 
 life in making one thing which, when done, is 
 beautiful, and contains something personal — 
 something which makes it unlike anything else, 
 whether by variation of pattern, or combina- 
 tion of color, or design of carving. And they 
 love what they do, and enjoy doing it. Do 
 we ? 
 
 However, I found beauty enough at Tiffany's 
 rooms to keep me absorbed for a long while — 
 judging by the clock, that is. Graceful vases 
 of polished and fretted gold and silver, mighty 
 loving-cups, deep-colored jewels gleaming mys- 
 tically with interior fire. Here is the wonderful 
 Magnolia Vase, Aztecan in shape, and most 
 beautifully enamelled in a design both graceful 
 and harmonious, and of which every portion is 
 American. The hue of the pavilion containing 
 the Tiffany exhibit is a delicate yellow, and the 
 design and decorations are in perfect taste. 
 Besides the dining and toilet sets, the neck- 
 laces, rings and tiaras, the lamps and statuettes 
 in the main department, several beautifully-fur- 
 nished rooms are shown, and a most exquisite 
 
34 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 little chapel. It is full of dim, rich light, that 
 enters by stained-glass windows, and radiates 
 softly from several great candles, and a couple 
 of swinging lamps — which latter, however, seem 
 more to draw the light towards them than to 
 send it forth. There is everywhere a feeling of 
 subdued color, in which the great silver cruci- 
 fix on the altar gleamingly defines itself. On 
 the right hand, a great bronze bell or gong — I 
 am not sure which — in an alcove, hangs globe- 
 like, divided into hemispheres, the lower sta- 
 tionary, and the upper, which is raised about 
 an inch, swinging from a great chain. It is a 
 gracious spot ; and the many sounds of the 
 Great Building, entering here as softly as the 
 light, deepen and grow faint, like the breathing 
 of an organ. 
 
 In the exhibit from the Netherlands is much 
 of the beautiful Delft ware. Tiles and large 
 placques and plates, all in the lovely blue and 
 white, bearing land and sea-scapes, where wind- 
 mills and idly floating sloops and fishing-smacks 
 look idly picturesque. Denmark has a col- 
 lection of articles once belonging to Hans Chris- 
 tian Anderson ; his desk, chair, coal-scuttle, 
 some Danish newspapers ; and on a table is a 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 35 
 
 small vase containing a handful of snowdrops. 
 There are also several of his manuscripts, 
 written in a small, rather clear handwriting, with 
 many corrections. But all these things do not 
 help me to know him half so well as one of his 
 shortest stories. 
 
 This is far from being all that is worth see- 
 ing in the Big Building. Hardly ! But if you 
 exercise your imagination, you may be able to 
 form some idea of the myriad things unde- 
 scribed, by these few samples. Besides, I shall 
 come back here again. 
 
IV. 
 
 Pluto, the god of Mines, has a Building all 
 to himself. It would, perhaps, have been more 
 appropriate to have placed his exhibit in a vast 
 cavern underground, where the treasures in his 
 possession might have been shown as they ap- 
 pear before being carried into the light of day. 
 As it is, the mystery and romance of Mining 
 are lost ; and there remains only the commer- 
 cial product, — pieces of stone piled in heaps 
 on long tables ; slabs of beautiful polished 
 marbles ; granite and quartz ; huge lumps of 
 coal — though the biggest lump — and what a 
 lump it is ! — is to be found in the Washington 
 State Building. Much of the display is inter- 
 esting, even to persons who have nothing to 
 do with the industry ; and it is edifying to see 
 how ordinary and unassuming are the bits of 
 rock containing the precious metals. I should 
 never have thought of picking any of them up 
 — except perhaps to throw at a chicken scratch- 
 ing up the treasures of my garden, as it is the 
 sinful habit of chickens to do. 
 
 36 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, yj 
 
 Nevertheless, the rough ores are far prettier 
 than the "Justice" in the Montana section, 
 which is made out of the silver manufactured 
 by that commonwealth, — the Ada Rehan "Jus- 
 tice," shining like a new nickel-plated skate, 
 and perched on a gilded globe, with a pair of 
 scales in her hand filled with what appears to 
 be real money. In her right hand she brand- 
 ishes a sword. Altogether, she is ugly, un- 
 graceful and tiresome. I hoped Miss Rehan 
 has been spared the pain of beholding her ; 
 otherwise, she must have felt Hke taking a hint 
 from Buffalo Bill's cowboys, who, it is said, 
 stumbling unexpectedly, one evening, on Proc- 
 tor's mounted " Cowboy " in front of the 
 Transportation Building, were so stimulated 
 by the spectacle that they set to work then and 
 there to pry it off its pedestal and pitch it into 
 the Lagoon. Most unfortunately they were in- 
 terrupted in the execution of their public-spir- 
 ited design by the peremptory orders of Buffalo 
 Bill himself, supported by an army of Colum- 
 bian Guards. 
 
 Near the centre of the Mines Building is an 
 exhibit from the South African Diamond Fields, 
 showing how they wash out the stones from 
 
 4 
 
38 The Fairest of th^ Fair, 
 
 the clay, and cut and polish them for the mar- 
 ket. There is always a jam of people at this 
 spot, but by being patient, I managed to see it 
 all. The grey clay in which the diamonds are 
 found is put into a machine which swirls it 
 about and pours water over it, until the clay is 
 dissolved and most of it washed away. What 
 remains is carefully searched by one man after 
 another until the stones — looking very unlike 
 diamonds — are all found. They are then given 
 over to another set of men, who do the cutting 
 and polishing, and thus bring out their interior 
 fire, and make them gleam hke stars. The 
 chief figures in the prehminary department are 
 two Zulus, one a perfect giant, and both pow- 
 erful, well-made men. Sometimes they wear 
 their native costume — a strip of cloth round 
 the loins, and beautiful necklaces, armlets and 
 fringes showing bright against their ebony 
 skins. At other times they wear a Chicago 
 flannel shirt and overalls. The bigger of the 
 two is said to have assegaied twelve men, and 
 he has a club with him that looks awful. 
 
 West of the Mines Building is the be-painted 
 Transportation, filled with models or examples 
 of every means used in the world for getting 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 39 
 
 about over land and sea, — from a period reach- 
 ing back to the time when people simply 
 walked, down to the present moment, or a lit- 
 tle beyond it. The figures of the naked, bare- 
 foot savages, plodding along with no artificial 
 assistance whatever, except a stick cut in the 
 forest, are in the South American section ; but 
 I suppose this was the way we all began. 
 Next you find them on horseback, with no sad- 
 dle, but with a bridle made of a looped leather 
 thong. Near by are a couple of llamas, with 
 pack saddles on their backs, and also a va- 
 quero in picturesque clothes, seated on a horse 
 decked out with a gorgeous bit and saddle. 
 There is an ox-cart with solid wooden wheels, 
 and a kind of palanquin to be carried by 
 asses. Not far from this are the newest and 
 most beautiful carriages made in America, 
 England, France and Germany. Coaches, 
 Tilburies, Broughams and Dog-Carts ; heavy 
 and dignified ceremonial carriages, and the 
 lightest of American trotting sulkies stand side 
 by side. In the British section is a coach be- 
 longing to the Lord Mayor of London, and a 
 beauty it is ! Everything about it is rich, 
 solemn, graceful and in keeping — from the 
 
40 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 coat-of-arms or crest on the door-panel to the 
 dark hning within. 
 
 In the extension of the Main Building there 
 are numberless railway engines, and, indeed, 
 entire trains. England and Germany and 
 France show their first, second and third class 
 carriages, all in sections, and the first class 
 most elaborately fitted up. There are Ameri- 
 can vestibule and dining cars too, and just out- 
 side the Building stand the first engine and 
 train of coaches ever run in America. The 
 engine is an astonishing-looking little thing, 
 with a very long neck and queer machinery ; 
 and the coaches are very much like the old 
 Rocky Mountain mail coaches — with seats on 
 top, inside, in front and behind. It is a worn 
 and battered little train, and as unusable-look- 
 ing as the Columbus caravels on the Lake. 
 
 In the " Cook's Tours " Pavilion are models 
 about three feet in length of the dahabeyas 
 used on the Nile. They have also a model of 
 some Egyptian temple, which is explained to 
 the visitor by a couple of turbaned and caf- 
 taned Egyptians. The elder of the two has 
 been a guide on a dahabeya for many years, 
 and has a glorious, many-lettered name which 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 41 
 
 I cannot now remember. He speaks excellent 
 English, and French, too, and has been pretty 
 nearly all over the world. After he has finished 
 his talk about the temple — and a very interest- 
 ing talk it is — he is ready to answer the ques- 
 tions of the audience,^ He admits that America 
 is the finest country in the world, but adds, in 
 a self-pitying tone, that he still prefers Egypt 
 for himself. He says if you come there you 
 will find many friends, and asks you to be sure 
 and take his dahabeya, and he will show you 
 everything worth seeing on the Nile. Turning 
 round, at this point, he shows the model of the 
 lovely boat, and explains that the model is 
 much smaller than the original — because he 
 overheard a young lady in the crowd say to 
 her friend, "Why, Effie, what little bits of 
 things they are ! " 
 
 About half way down the central aisle is a 
 very large model of the ill-fated "Victoria," 
 the Enghsh iron-clad that was sunk by the 
 " Camperdown." After the accident, the model 
 was draped in black, and a throng of people 
 were always looking at it, and quoting to one 
 another the newspaper articles on the subject. 
 There are smaller models of nearly all the 
 
42 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 well-known ocean steamships, and of the war- 
 ships of several countries. They are exquisitely 
 finished things, with their graceful lines, their 
 spotless decks, and sparkling metal-work, and 
 every least detail perfectly reproduced. There 
 is also a section, life-size, of a Red Star steamer, 
 showing specimens of state-rooms, steerage, 
 smoking-room, part of dining-room, a bridal 
 apartment of two dainty little rooms beautifully 
 furnished ; the deck promenade, — and in short 
 everything just as it is before the vessel leaves 
 the dock, and the passengers have begun to 
 feel sea-sick. 
 
 Besides these highly civilized boats, there are 
 birch-bark canoes, craft from the South Pacific 
 and Alaska, all beautiful and graceful in their 
 ways. In the gallery is a model of a fishing- 
 boat used in the Sea of Galilee in the time of 
 Christ ; it is very short and broad, painted red 
 and blue. In the same exhibit are some grace- 
 ful water-jars of black terra-cotta ; and skins 
 with hair on the outside, also for carrying 
 water. And there are saddles for camels and 
 donkeys ; and different kinds of palanquins, 
 such as are used in Jerusalem. 
 
 There are numbers of bicycles here, light and 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 43 
 
 strong and pretty to see. All are " Safeties," 
 except a few old-fashioned ones, which are put 
 there for fun, and which show very ungainly 
 beside the modern wheels. There is a rickety 
 old iron safety, which belonged to a former 
 Earl of Durham, and was made in 18 10. He 
 must have had a lot of trouble to make it go. 
 
 In the Japanese section are some beautiful 
 bridges, and a model of the Ogaki Sluice, first 
 built in 1 69 1, but since renovated. Down- 
 stairs are models of several of their war-ships ; 
 but I looked in vain for a Jinricksha. In the 
 Chinese section are junks, about two feet in 
 length, many-colored and queer-shaped, with 
 sails made of matting. Elsewhere there is 
 an ungainly dug-out — or burnt-out — for the 
 hollowing has been done by fire, — as can be 
 seen by the blackened edges. 
 
 The upshot of my studies in the Transporta- 
 tion Building was, that there are a great many 
 expedients for getting from one place to an- 
 other, in this world, and all of them have cer- 
 tain advantages. But, as I went out, I remem- 
 bered that I was walking, even as the primitive 
 people whose wooden effigies I had seen at the 
 other end of the building are represented as 
 
44 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 doing ; and that coincidence seemed to bridge 
 the gulf between the old time and the new. 
 ( I am much more familiar with the lovely ex- 
 terior of the Palace of Mechanic Arts than with 
 its whirring and revolving contents ; wheels 
 great and small, clicking hammers, long arms 
 that move endlessly back and forth, remorse- 
 less planes that pass resistlessly over iron 
 plates, shaving off curled pieces that keep 
 falling with a chink-chink; great machines 
 with countless wheels all of different sizes, 
 some moving almost imperceptibly, and others 
 humming with the speed of their revolutions ; 
 many clinking things that go up and down and 
 back and forth and drop into one another and 
 slip out again ; machines powerful enough, a[)- 
 parently, to move the globe, which only make 
 something infinitesimally and absurdly small 
 compared with themselves — as if Atlas were to 
 thread needles instead of holding up the sky; 
 — all these things are impressive, and are 
 perhaps more useful than architecture ; but 
 they are not beautiful. 
 
 Here I saw how paper is made ; and cork- 
 screws were turned out of a bit of wire before 
 my eyes ; and printing-presses transformed 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 47 
 
 large blank sheets into a bundle of neatly- 
 folded pages, inscribed with the wit and wisdom 
 — or the reverse — of the world ; and heaps of 
 tobacco and strips of rice-paper went into a 
 hopper at one end, and reappeared as packets 
 of cigarettes at the other. The most fascinat- 
 ing thing I saw was a potter's wheel, with its 
 whirhng lumps of clay, changing their shape 
 with each touch given them by the potter, till 
 he cut a piece off with a bit of string, and there 
 was a damp, grey vase or bowl, which he set 
 aside amongst its predecessors on a shelf. I 
 looked at that for a long time, greatly longing 
 to make something, myself, out of the cool, 
 soft material. 
 
 The next most agreeable thing is the large 
 water-tank in the centre of the building, spanned 
 by a bridge, and ahve with fountains, which 
 swirl and splash and spatter with a pleasant, 
 soothing sound, very different from the hoarse 
 clang and clatter of the machines. There is 
 also a section of an immense iron tube, so big 
 that a man six feet tall can walk through it 
 erect. All men anywhere near that height, 
 who come within sight of the steps leading 
 up to the tube, do walk through it, and emerge 
 
48 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 at the other end suffused with joy, if they 
 have been obhged to take off their hats on 
 entering. 
 
 What one chiefly notices in the Hall, how- 
 ever, is the sense of irresistible power and tire- 
 less motion which the machines convey, and 
 the awe inspired by the seeming reason which 
 they possess, combined with their insensibility 
 to pain or pity. What terrible Frankenstein- 
 monsters would these things be, were the ap- 
 parent life that courses through them be made 
 real by some magic spell of evil ! Even the 
 antediluvian mammoths and mastodons in the 
 Anthropological Building would stand no chance 
 against them. 
 
 There is a quiet, country peacefulness within 
 the beautiful walls of the Agricultural Building, 
 and a faint smell of hay and corn and meadow- 
 produce. Nearly all the State exhibits are pavil- 
 ions, whose roofs, walls and pillars are deco- 
 rated with characteristic grains and grasses in 
 various patterns. The Southern States employ 
 cotton for this purpose, the snow-white, fluffy 
 stuff clinging to the brown and withered stalks, 
 and tempting one to handle it — which is, how- 
 ever, forbidden by the ubiquitous " Hands-Off " 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 49 
 
 sign. "Please" is occasionally added, but as 
 an after-thought in pencil. 
 
 Near the west entrance is Japan's pavilion, 
 made of bamboo and coarse green matting, 
 and distinguished by the pretty white flag with 
 the red disc in its centre. Within are gigantic 
 porcelain jars filled with teas and covered with 
 pieces of red and gold silk, fastened round the 
 mouth of the jar with a gold cord. Square 
 boxes or hampers of matting, with cabalistic 
 characters writ upon them in black and red 
 ink also contain tea. There are rows of beau- 
 tiful bottles full of sake and other Japanese 
 liquors with delightful names ; bales of matting 
 like that on the floors of the cottages on 
 Wooded Island ; packages of huge tobacco 
 leaves tied together with bits of silk ribbon ; 
 and boxes of cigarettes and prepared tobaccos. 
 On the opposite side of the room is a collection 
 of stuffed birds, including a couple of cocks 
 that I thought were alive until I noticed that 
 they were not. These Japanese cocks are not 
 at all like ours — so far, at least, as the length 
 and fashion of their tails is concerned. One 
 of them is perched on a stick at least eight feet 
 from the ground^ and his black-green tail 
 
50 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 feathers hang down in sweeping curves and 
 rest upon the floor. The tail of the other is 
 only about half as long, but more luxuriant. 
 In the Main Building, Japanese section, is a 
 bronze model of a cock of this species, which, 
 when I first saw it, I took to be a pretty fancy 
 of the artist. But here is the very bird, per- 
 haps, who posed for the model in Flowery 
 Japan, before he became simply stuffed ! 
 
 In the Liberian exhibit are — besides samples 
 of their produce — queer wooden masks worn 
 by the savages, resembling those used by the 
 Alaskan Indians in the south corner of the 
 Grounds. I saw also some cinctures made of 
 colored grasses, and, in the way of weapons, 
 bows, clubs and spears. There are many 
 handsome skins and a collection of stuffed 
 animals. I should like to know how it happens 
 that the Alaskans and the Liberians wear the 
 same fashion of mask. The Alaskans re- 
 semble the northern Japanese in feature, though 
 they are of a lower type. 
 
 A little east of Liberia is a monument built 
 of solid chocolate. It must be at least twenty 
 feet high ; nothing looks its full size in these 
 great buildings. The atmosphere round about 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 5 1 
 
 is full of its perfume. As I drew near, I began 
 to feel hungry ; and in order to keep from 
 marring the symmetry of its outline by break- 
 ing off a mouthful or two (while the Columbian 
 Guard was flirting with the pretty girl who sells 
 soda-water checks near by) — I was obliged to 
 buy a bag of pop-corn, which was the next best 
 smelling thing in that neighborhood. Prob- 
 ably, too, the chocolate would not have tasted 
 so good as it looked. Not far off is the largest 
 cheese ever made, from Canada. It smells, 
 also, but not so tempting. 
 
 The British Guiana exhibit is very rich in 
 polished woods, and in stuffed birds and ani- 
 mals. One of the birds is a very small pink 
 crane or ibis, which I heard called a flamingo 
 several times. On the other hand, two beau- 
 tiful flamingoes in the Government Building 
 always arouse much question as to what they 
 are. Natural History does not seem to be a 
 favorite study now-a-days. The Fair is a good 
 place to begin it in. There are many fine col- 
 lections of animals, not only in the Govern- 
 ment Building, but in some of the State Build- 
 ings — Kansas especially ; and in Anthropolog- 
 ical Hall, 
 
52 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 The Cape Colony department is interesting. 
 Besides the sacks of merino wool, the grains, 
 the Buchu leaves with their delicious odor, the 
 whiskies, brandies and wines, there are a couple 
 of stuffed Fat-tailed Sheep, a Boer goat, several 
 ostriches — some but six weeks old, — ostrich 
 eggs, some of them decorated with colored 
 sketches and patterns, many beautiful prepared 
 ostrich feathers, and a fine collection of Zulu 
 weapons and ornaments — such as assegais, 
 light and sharp and strong, long spears, shields, 
 heavy bracelets, anklets and necklaces ; and 
 a lot of curious pots and bowls. 
 
 In England's exhibit is a model of the 
 famous Brookfield Stud, with the paddocks, 
 stables, barns, grooms and horses, on a scale 
 about one-fiftieth the natural size Even the 
 straw in the barnyard is reproduced in minia- 
 ture. It made me wish I had a stud like it ; 
 especially after I had seen photographs of 
 the splendid horses. There was a model of a 
 French farm, too, and it was also a model of 
 neatness and economy of space. 
 
 In the south wing of the building are the 
 implements and machinery used in modern 
 scientific farming. I saw beautiful ploughs 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 53 
 
 and harrows, nickel-plated and furbished ; 
 carts all over wheels and steel teeth, which do 
 wonderful things with grain and corn ; silk- 
 weaving machines ; grass and hay-cutters ; and 
 things that — if you harness them to a horse or 
 two, and then sit on a little seat high up — ^wiU 
 turn a bare, stony field into a rich meadow of 
 waving grain, and cut it, and tie it up in bun- 
 dles, and heap the bundles in regular lines, all 
 at once — or nearly. The httle seats look quite 
 comfortable, too. It seems as if the modern 
 scientific farmer would become a very indolent 
 and luxurious person, if this improvement in 
 his machinery keeps on. 
 
V. 
 
 As long as you stay within the magic circle 
 of the Great Basin Buildings of which Agricul- 
 tural and Machinery Palaces and the station 
 of the Intramural Railway — another beautiful 
 building — are the southern boundaries, you are 
 unaware of the existence of the South End of 
 the grounds — a world in itself. 
 
 I discovered it on coming out of the south 
 door of the Agricultural ; and the first thing I 
 noticed was a collection of windmills. They 
 were of all varieties, from a model, full size, of 
 Blooker's Cocoa Mill, built a century ago in 
 Holland, to the most modern and sagacious 
 contrivances for pumping water into a country 
 villa's cistern. The latter, like so many now- 
 a-day things, are as ugly as they are useful; 
 whereas the old, inconvenient ones are pictur- 
 esque and quaint. In the Golden Age to come, 
 I hope they will be both picturesque and useful. 
 What with the flat country, the wide-spread 
 lake, the broad sky, and the help of two or 
 
 54 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 5 5 
 
 three of the squat Httle old windmills, I could 
 almost fancy myself in the Netherlands. Nor 
 should I have been surprised ; for after a week 
 or two at the Fair, I had got quite in the habit 
 of stepping out of America into remote parts of 
 the world at a moment's notice. 
 
 In an arm of the lagoon near by lies a gen- 
 uine old whaler of Nantucket or New Bedford ; 
 a worn-looking old creature, with a sulky as- 
 pect, as if the fresh water which laps along its 
 black sides were not at all to its taste. It was 
 thinking of the stormy passage of the Horn, 
 and ot the expanse of the mighty Pacific ; of 
 the scorching calms of the Doldrums, and the 
 immitigable tempests of the stormy north ; and 
 of the months and years of waiting, while the 
 look-out sat in the mast head, and all ears 
 were alert to catch the cry, •' There she blows !" 
 Those stirring times were all past for the old 
 whaler now, and never would come back. And 
 instead of laying her oaken bones at the bot- 
 tom of the ocean she had survived to be a 
 show at the World's Fair at Chicago, a thou- 
 sand miles from the nearest salt water ! It 
 was, after all, the strangest adventure of her 
 career, and the saddest ! I could not bear to 
 
56 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 go on board of her, and, for ten cents, see 
 " more than ten thousand marine curiosities." 
 Why did she not " sink to Hell," hke Ahab's 
 ship, that pursued Moby Dick round the world ? 
 The poor old Whaler ! much more spectral, 
 lying there, than if she had perished a genera- 
 tion ago. 
 
 A Httle way beyond is a settlement of Alaskan 
 Indians, in rough wooden shanties, with gigan- 
 tic carved and painted totem posts before the 
 doors. The carvings represent hideous human 
 faces and dwarfed figures, squatting on one 
 another's shoulders, with bird-unhke creatures 
 called ravens intervening ; and strange gods, 
 with their knees drawn up to their chins. 
 These posts are the Alaskan way of represent- 
 ing the family genealogical trees ; I suppose 
 only the line of direct descent can be shown in 
 them. 
 
 I went into one of the biggest of the huts. 
 Seven or eight savages were sitting on the bare 
 ground, wrapped in beautiful blankets. Pres- 
 ently two or three of them got up and danced — 
 not at all in the fierce and graceful style of the 
 Sioux braves ; but with grotesque movements, 
 like those of a seal hopping about and brand- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 57 
 
 ishing its flippers. The others remained seated, 
 and furnished music for the dance by striking 
 pieces of wood together, and occasionally call- 
 ing out something in a mumbling voice. Then 
 one of the dancers retreated behind a piece of 
 hide hung up as a curtain, and came out again 
 with a pair of bear's paws on his hands ; he 
 growled hke a bear, and rolled on the ground, 
 and made dashes at the spectators. It was 
 just like children playing at wild animals. 
 Then he disappeared again, and was gone 
 quite a long time, during which the other In- 
 dians ceased their thumping. Once in a while 
 a strange roar or growl would be heard from 
 behind the curtain. At last there appeared in 
 front of the curtain a figure completely dis- 
 guised in a bear skin, and looking very like a 
 bear on its hind legs ; only, instead of a bear's 
 face, he had on an ugly wooden mask, painted 
 black. He did not dance, nor advance from 
 the curtain, but stayed there, making grunting 
 sounds, and shaking and nodding his head, 
 and laying his paws beside it, as if he had the 
 toothache. The others kept up a thumping 
 and shouting all the while. This, I suppose, 
 is the Alaskan notion of a dramatic entertain- 
 
58 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 ment. It is a big world that can hold such 
 actors as that savage, and Booth, Irving and 
 Joe Jefferson ! 
 
 There are some tepees in the neighborhood, 
 containing some tame Indians of the Penob- 
 scot tribe, I believe ; they make baskets and 
 other things for sale. The men wander about 
 smoking, clad in American clothes. I do not 
 like to see tame Indians ; they seem not ele- 
 vated, but degraded. This was the reason I 
 did not go into the Indian School, where, I 
 was told, they wore their hair cut short and 
 worked as ordinary artisans, with white task- 
 masters sitting over them. It is much better 
 to go to Buffalo Bill's. 
 
 The French colonies of Tonquin, Annam, 
 New Caledonia and Algiers have some small 
 buildings here. The Algerian is curved like 
 the new moon, and is painted white and deco- 
 rated with tiles ; it consists of a series of small 
 bazars, open on one side. The other buildings 
 are square, with wide eaves, and are painted 
 dark. They contain teas, silks, pretty fans 
 and small carvings ; and in the midst sit little 
 cross-legged gods and goddesses, with joined 
 hands. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 59 
 
 The Caves of the CHff Dwellers appear to 
 be made of sheet iron or tin painted brown. 
 They contain relics of the lost race, and a 
 couple of contemporary burros, pretty and 
 affectionate little creatures. On the other side 
 of the way are imitations of Aztecan ruins, cov- 
 ered with characteristic carvings. But the 
 Building of Ethnology and Anthropology had 
 just been opened, and I lost no time in going 
 there. 
 
 "Man and his Works" is the legend in- 
 scribed over the entrance. The first thing I 
 saw, on the right, was a collection of Alaskan 
 curiosities. There were miniature models of 
 their huts, with the totem poles ; everything 
 they use is carved with representations of gro- 
 tesque and hideous faces and figures. There 
 were some huge wooden spoons, large enough 
 to hold four or five quarts, which — I was told 
 by an old man who seemed to be in charge — 
 were used to fill the bowls of the eaters at their 
 feasts; they used smaller spoons to eat with. 
 In addition to the carvings, there were hand- 
 some fur blankets and cloaks, and bone and 
 shell necklaces and anklets. If this people are 
 really emigrants from Japan, they must have 
 
6o The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 left their native country at a time when its art 
 was in a very primitive state. 
 
 Next to. these are trophies from the western 
 Indian tribes, chiefly the Sioux and Arapahoes. 
 There are a great many specimens of their 
 beautiful beadwork, embroidered on buckskin. 
 The different modes of decoration practised by 
 the tribes can be compared. Among the bows 
 and arrows is a beautiful bow in a fur case 
 from the Modoc tribe, about which Joaquin 
 Miller wrote his delightful book. There is a 
 papoose-case, solidly embroidered with beads 
 — the background being blue, with a pattern in 
 darker blue, and red and green. These Indians 
 have an unfailing eye for color. The papoose- 
 case had belonged to the daughter of Chief 
 Old-Man-Afraid-Of-His-Horses. A buckskin 
 Cheyenne war-shirt, with bead decoration, was 
 remarkable for its fringe of scalps ; there were 
 seven hundred of them, taken from Ute and 
 Pawnee Indians. Each scalp is a thin whisp 
 of black, shiny hair, and each represents a hfe. 
 But they were not all taken by the same 
 warrior ; the shirt was handed down from one 
 to another; it is a hundred years old, and 
 bears trophies of fights down to 1874. Another 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 6i 
 
 valuable garment is that of a Cheyenne squaw. 
 It is decorated with fifteen hundred elk's eye- 
 teeth, which, of course, represents the hunting 
 and killing of seven hundred and fifty elk. What 
 a magnificent present for an Indian lover to 
 offer to his mistress ! The dress is made of 
 blue woolen cloth, and the yellowish ivory 
 teeth have a beautiful effect on that background. 
 I also saw several war-bonnets of eagle feathers 
 tipped with another kind of feathers, dyed in 
 bright colors. The finest of these was so long 
 that, though it was on the head of a figure full 
 six feet tall, twelve inches of it lay on the floor. 
 It was the property of Powder-Face, Chief of 
 the Arapahoes, the best and bravest fighter of 
 his time. 
 
 Further south is the Australasian exhibit. It 
 consists of ornaments, weapons and utensils of 
 the natives, and of a splendid collection of 
 photographs, many of them life-size. Besides 
 portraits of the men and women, there are 
 views of their villages and structures. Some 
 of the portrait photographs — the Fijian and 
 Samoan warriors, a Samoan girl, and a couple 
 of Tongan belles — show superb men and 
 women, with fine figures and handsome faces. 
 
62 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 But most of the women of the Polynesian 
 tribes are terrible creatures, with thin legs and 
 arms, and breasts that hang down perfectly 
 flat, and ugly faces. The men never look 
 quite as bad, but they have a sullen expression 
 on their thick features, and ungainly, though 
 powerful, figures. The Fijians and Samoans 
 are the only good-looking ones of the group. 
 Some of them are more than good-looking ; 
 their faces are beautiful, and their bodies 
 splendidly proportioned and developed. Wny 
 should there be such a difference between 
 these islanders and the others ? The Fijians 
 and Samoans in the Plaisance (of whom much 
 more anon) are the handsomest men I have 
 ever seen ; and yet on the neighboring islands 
 are these sullen, ugly people. 
 
 In the Australian department are a great 
 many boomerangs, of different sizes, and — to 
 my surprise — of different shapes, too. I had 
 always thought that the curve of the boomerang 
 was as exact and unchangeable as that of the 
 crescent moon. But some of these are all but 
 straight, and others are rectangular, and others 
 of all gradations between. The wood they are 
 made of is dark and hard ; they average about 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 63 
 
 two inches wide in the widest part (the middle) 
 and from a third to a quarter of an inch thick. 
 Most of them are about two feet long. A very 
 few are a good deal larger and heavier. They 
 were ornamented with graceful wavy lines or 
 grooves, and occasionally with other simple 
 forms of ornament. They do not look in the 
 least formidable. In the New South Wales 
 Building is an oil-painting of a tropical scene 
 — lush vegetation and giant trees overhanging 
 a stream, with a couple of natives, boomerang 
 in hand, peering through the thicket at a wild 
 animal. The picture is bad as to technique, 
 but it is full of savage imagination and feeling. 
 There is a South-Sea Island boat, whose 
 sweeping lines are quite unlike the graceful 
 contours of our own birch-bark canoes, but 
 are not the less beautiful. It is decorated with 
 shells and carvings ; no nails are used in mak- 
 ing it. There is also what is called a Kaika 
 bowl, oblong, of black wood, inlaid with mother- 
 of-pearl and fan-shaped pieces of shell. This 
 is a musical instrument, on which they play by 
 striking it with sticks ; it gives out a clear, res- 
 onant note. There are many other articles — - 
 bowls and spoons and other things I do not know 
 
64 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 the names of — made of this dark wood, inlaid. 
 Hanging on the walls are pieces of the yellow- 
 ish tapa-cloth, which is made of the pulp of a 
 sort of bark, and is covered with designs in red 
 and black criss-cross lines. The natives wear 
 a strip of this cloth about their waists, hanging 
 as far down as the knee. It is very soft and 
 flexible. There are specimens of other cloth- 
 ing of theirs, consisting of fringes of dry sea- 
 weed or grass, which they tie about their waists 
 and round their knees and arms ; and there are 
 beautiful necklaces of coral and shells. But 
 these things represent their gala wardrobe ; on 
 ordinary occasions they wear very much less. 
 
 Mexico is here in the shape of some Aztec 
 relics, and specimens of the shields and spears 
 of the present natives. There are models of 
 dehghtful square houses built about courts, with 
 broad verandas and narrow windows. 
 
 Off in one corner of the building, among 
 other models of anatomy, are two figures, one 
 of a man and the other of a gorilla. They are 
 without the skin, so as to show the muscular 
 structure. The contrast is great. Although 
 the model of the man shows a strong and well- 
 developed body, it is nothing besides the terrific 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 65 
 
 power of the great ape. The long, thick trunk, 
 broad and deep chest and giant shoulders of 
 the latter, and his long arms, as big round the 
 biceps as a large man's thigh ; and his short 
 crooked legs, heavy-jawed head and thick 
 neck, — are the acme of brutal and irresistible 
 strength. There is nothing beautiful about 
 him ; all is hideous and repulsive. 
 
 In the gallery upstairs is a collection of ani- 
 mals badly stuffed. Among them is a camel 
 .... even his supercilious and haughty 
 brethren in Cairo Street would lose their ex- 
 pression of cool, sneering indifference, were 
 they to behold such a pitiful parody as this. A 
 camel is not beautiful at best ; but a camel 
 stuffed as this one is, is awful indeed. 
 
 There is a Mammoth, which towered above 
 me like a hairy, black hill. His legs were like 
 great dead boles of trees, with the frayed bark 
 clinging to them ; they were too big for my 
 arms to clasp them in the smallest part. Two 
 yellow tusks, curving widely outwards and up- 
 wards, seem big enough to crush the degener- 
 ate elephant of our times with their weight 
 alone. The eyes are the only small things 
 about the creature, and I suppose they would 
 
66 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 look big too, anywhere else than in his head. 
 Seriously, he is very large ; and yet I had a 
 feeling that my previous idea of a mammoth 
 had been even bigger than he. Perhaps, if I 
 had met him, alive, in a prediluvian forest, he 
 would have appeared entirely satisfactory. 
 
 In this gallery are many shells, from some as 
 tiny as a grain of sand to others a foot or two 
 long. However small they may be, their forms 
 are always graceful and their colors dainty. 
 Some of the larger ones gleam and glisten with 
 a thousand lovely hues. Others are soft brown 
 and pink, and covered with spines ; others so 
 white and delicate as to seem made of sea 
 foam. Here was the exquisite paper nautilus ; 
 and beside it, a long, pointed, twined shell of 
 the most charming rose color, in which some 
 creature of the deep sea must have spent a 
 sweet existence, I should think. 
 
 Butterflies and bugs of every sort are here, 
 and birds' eggs, white, speckled, green, blue, 
 brown, pink, and of all sizes. The largest and 
 the smallest of known eggs were placed side 
 by side. The big one was about three times 
 as large as an ostrich ^gg ; the bird who laid 
 it has long been extinct, with all its relatives. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 67 
 
 The small one was snow white, the size of a 
 new green pea, and — had fate been kind — 
 would have developed into a tiny green hum- 
 ming-bird. There is plenty of difference be- 
 tween these two eggs ; and I was glad that 
 men are so much more nearly of a size than 
 birds — unless, of course, I could be one of the 
 rocs, or at any rate an eagle. 
 
 But I cannot tell all the things that are in 
 this building ; there were models of hospitals, 
 Turkish baths, gymnastic paraphernalia of all 
 kinds, casts of Greek statues .... whatnot! 
 And in this same corner of the grounds are the 
 Forestry Building, with its innumerable beau- 
 tiful woods, and the Leather Building, with a 
 collection of all the kinds of shoes ever worn ; 
 and Krupp's Gun Factory, with a cannon in it 
 as lon^ as a ship's mast, and as big round the 
 butt as the great beer tun of Heidelberg ; and 
 the model of the Spanish Mission, in which is 
 every known or imaginable relic of Colum- 
 bus ; and the model Dairy Kitchen, and other 
 things. 
 
 But I am tired of being indoors, and want to 
 get out again, by the sunny lake, and on the 
 green lawns ; I want to breathe the sweet sum- 
 
68 
 
 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 mer air, and watch the moving people, and see 
 the white palaces and silver lagoons, and look 
 up at the blue sky with its own cloud castles, 
 lovelier even than the lovely structures of the 
 Great Fair. 
 
VI. 
 
 What a noble curve is that of the lake shore 
 between the northern extremity of the Peristyle 
 and the brick battle-ship, " Illinois ! " A great, 
 generous sweep of smooth promenade, with the 
 slope down to the water's edge solidly paved ; 
 lighted at night by the brilliant Brush electric 
 lamps, shining like a chain of moons. Here, 
 every day, plays the Cincinnati Band, and it is 
 good to sit and listen to it, gazing out the while 
 over the limitless water, where the whale-back 
 steamers plough back and forth between the 
 distant, smoky city and the long pier which 
 projects from the Peristyle. 
 
 The incoming boats are black with people, 
 many of whom must be arriving here for the 
 first time to visit the City of Delight ; and it 
 will be their own fault if their high hopes are 
 not more than fulfilled. The few unfortunates 
 who are taking their final departure carry with 
 them my heart felt sympathy. I cannot distin- 
 guish their faces, but even at this distance I 
 6 69 
 
70 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 can feel that they are sad ; the boats them- 
 selves look gloomy. 
 
 Behind me is the long extent of the Main 
 Building, under whose arcade tables and chairs 
 are placed, and people sit there eating and 
 drinking, while waiters glide hither and thither, 
 balancing piles of plates and glasses. There 
 are several restaurants in this building, French, 
 German and American. They are not, all 
 things considered, unreasonably dear ; but if 
 there is even a fair attendance of customers, I 
 found it expedient to have a bump of patience 
 all prepared. 
 
 On one such occasion, I sat down at a long 
 counter inside the restaurant, on a his^h stool. 
 I could not leach the floor with my feet, and 
 the stool was uncomfortable ; so that I longed 
 to finish and be gone. After awhile, a haughty- 
 looking girl came up and regarded me intently, 
 and with seeming surprise. I began to ask 
 her to . . . . But she turned her back and 
 sauntered off. More time passed, and another 
 girl appeared. She leaned against the counter 
 not far off, and I thought she had a sympathetic 
 expression. I asked her for food ; but she said, 
 with evident satisfaction, that she didn't wait in 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 7 1 
 
 this section. I, however, continued waiting, 
 and by and by the haughty maiden came by 
 once more. This time she threw down a menu- 
 card, and passed on without a glance. I de- 
 cided on my order, read the card from top to 
 bottom and back again, took my sunshade 
 from the adjoining stool (because another lady 
 had come), and tried to prop it up against the 
 counter. After it had fallen twice, I gave that 
 up. Then the Princess — she must have been 
 that, at least — came again, took my order, and 
 presently returned with half of it — that half, as 
 it happened, which 1 desired to eat last. How- 
 ever, I finished in what order it pleased God; 
 and as I retired, I looked back. The young 
 lady on the adjoining stool was gazing dis- 
 tractedly about, with only a jar of pickles 
 within reach ; and the Princess was chatting 
 languidly in a distant corner with the sympa- 
 thetic girl, and two others. 
 
 It is not always so bad as this. The Java 
 and Turkish restaurants, in Midway Plaisance, 
 are very good and cheap ; and so is the 
 "Farmer's Dinner" in the same place, where 
 you can get all the baked beans, Boston brown- 
 bread, doughnuts and coffee you can eat for 
 
72 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 fifty cents ; served by a pretty girl in a mob- 
 cap. 
 
 After listening to the Cincinnati Band, I got 
 up and strolled along the esplanade to the brick 
 battle-ship. Just beyond is the English Build- 
 ing, called Victoria House. It is built in the 
 style of an English EUzabethan country house, 
 and stands within an enclosure, commanding 
 a fine view from its rear windows of the Lake. 
 It is open to the public only during two hours 
 in the afternoon ; but I was fortunate enough 
 to know some one who had the open-sesame to 
 it, and was therefore able to inspect its beauti- 
 ful rooms and carved oak furniture and deco- 
 rations at my ease. In front of this house is 
 the group of " America " from the Albert 
 Memorial in Hyde Park. It is exceedingly 
 bad ; the artist's notion of the costume of an 
 American pioneer is deliciously simple ; I think 
 even a red Indian would consider it too slight 
 a thing. As for the object which I presume 
 must have been intended to represent a buffalo, 
 I will not attempt to criticise it. 
 
 All the State and Foreign Buildings are in 
 this north end of the Park. It is a charming 
 region, green with smooth turf and verdurous 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 73 
 
 trees, and intersected by broad, well-kept walks. 
 Facing the Lake front are the Buildings of Ger- 
 many, France, Spain and Ceylon. Germany's 
 is very pretentious, with spires and peaks and 
 several entrances, accessible by flights of steps. 
 The outer walls are decorated with inscriptions 
 in German characters glorifying the Vaterland. 
 Within are innumerable articles more or less 
 interesting, from the collection of handsomely 
 bound and illustrated books, to a room-full of 
 wooden saints in gaudily painted raiment. 
 Spain's Building resembles a church ; it was 
 not open during my stay. It is square and 
 white, with a great arched doorway and win- 
 dows of stained glass. France's is also white, 
 and is gracefully built round a semi-circular 
 court planted with flowers. The Ceylon House 
 is square, with two wings north and south. 
 Over the middle entrance is a tower, contain- 
 ing a room reached by a cork-screw staircase. 
 Here you are served with Ceylon tea gratis. 
 The first day that the announcement was 
 made, however, crowds of people jammed 
 up there in compact masses, drank tea by the 
 bucketful, carried off sugar in their pockets, 
 and broke some of the Indian porcelain cups. 
 
74 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 The Zinghalese, who have themselves excellent 
 manners, were surprised ; and thenceforth only 
 two or three persons were permitted to go up 
 at a time. 
 
 These Zinghalese — who are distinguished 
 from the Ceylonese as being descendants of the 
 original inhabitants of the island — are rather 
 small and very dark. Many wear beards ; 
 their hair is coiled in a Psyche knot, with a 
 tortoise-shell comb in it. Their costume con- 
 sists of a short jacket, and a straight piece of 
 cloth wrapped round them petticoat-wise, and 
 descending nearly to their feet. They some- 
 times wear white turbans. 
 
 In their building, scattered about, are many 
 little "sacred" black elephants, some carry- 
 ing hovvdahs, and others au nature/. At the 
 end of the north wing are two Buddhas ; and I 
 heard a man, note-book in hand, ask the 
 Zinghalese in charge what "Buddha" was in 
 English ? 
 
 But the Zinghalese did not know. 
 
 There are some swords here so beautiful that 
 I would almost be willing to die by one of them. 
 The very smallest and most insignificant house- 
 hold article is as graceful in shape, and as 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 75 
 
 finely carved and decorated, as if it were to be 
 the chief ornament of the house. Tea is for sale 
 in tin-foil packages, with an elephant stamped 
 on the white label ; and this is also to be had 
 in the Ceylon Pavilion of the Main Building; 
 and in the Women's Building likewise. In the 
 latter it is sold by a couple of little Zinghalese 
 women, with jewels in their noses and all over 
 their pretty ears ; and between the girdle of 
 their skirts and the bottom of their short white 
 sleeveless jackets is visible a breadth of lovely 
 brown flesh. The tea has a peculiar, delicious 
 flavor and costs but a dollar a pound. 
 
 The little East Indian Palace is one of the 
 most beautiful and foreig-n-lookino; in the 
 
 o o 
 
 Grounds, though it was designed by an Ameri- 
 can architect. It is tinted with a marvellous 
 combination of delicate hues, yellow predomi- 
 nating; the triple-arched entrance is upheld 
 by slender columns, and fretted like lace. 
 The windows on either side reach to the floor, 
 and are used as doors. They open on ve- 
 randas, that on the right having tables, at 
 which you may sit and be served with tea 
 by a dark Hindoo, with a keen, handsome 
 face, and clad in a scarlet robe embroidered 
 
"j^ The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 with gold, reaching nearly to the ankles and 
 confined at the loins with a silken sash. 
 
 This lovely Palace contains nothing that I 
 did not instantly want — even the strange idols 
 sitting cross-legged, with the soles of their feet 
 turned up. There are long, flint-lock guns in- 
 laid with silver, ivory and mother of pearl, their 
 hammers chased with delicate designs. Silks 
 and woolens are draped about, in colors stolen 
 from morning flowers. Rugs and hangings and 
 embroideries abound, which there are no Eng- 
 lish adjectives to describe. The interior is a 
 square room, with a gallery surrounding it. 
 Beneath the gallery are other tables, where you 
 sit and pour tea out of odd, graceful silver tea- 
 pots into cups of thinnest porcelain, painted by 
 hand. 
 
 Many of the State Buildings I did not enter, 
 for many of them are private houses, not in 
 appearance only, but practically in intention 
 also, being meant for the use of the natives of 
 the several States as places of reunion, and for 
 official functions. New York has a handsome 
 mansion, white and imposing, and rich in fur- 
 niture and decoration. Pennsylvania's is not 
 so handsome, but it has a clock in its tower, 
 
JC"'- 
 
 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 which is a source of comfort to those 
 who really want to know what time 
 it is — a foolish thinsf. 
 
 I entered the building in order 
 to see the Liberty Bell ; it was 
 the one thing I did while at the 
 Fair from a sense of duty, and 
 I have ever since regretted it; 
 for instead of the hazy and de- 
 lightful fancy I had formed of a 
 wonderful bell, unlike all others, ^. 
 invested with a shadow of memories 
 and a halo of prophecy, I carried away a dis- 
 tinct impression of a bell, antique and graceful 
 enough, to be sure, but, naturally, no more 
 than just a bell, in spite of the two huge 
 policemien, with clubs, who stood beside it as 
 a body-guard. 
 
 The architecture of the California Building 
 recalls the old Spanish missions which were 
 built along the Pacific coast hundreds of years 
 ago; but it is larger than any mission, and as 
 large, I should think, as any of the State build- 
 ings. It is white, with red-tiled, domed roofs, 
 widespread, hospitable and picturesque. Inside 
 are assembled specimens of the mineral and 
 
 n 
 
yS The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 vegetable products of the State, a model of the 
 port of San Francisco, a tame fox, a restaurant 
 and a picture gallery, containing a good picture 
 of a sunset. 
 
 In front of the Utah Building is a statue of 
 Brigham Young. It seemed to me strange to 
 put him forward in this way, for if he did "open 
 the State " his memory is hardly to be honored. 
 In the building I saw some Indian trophies and 
 a mummy of a cliff dweller — a horrible object, 
 with claw-Uke fingers and an incomplete face. 
 
 Idaho houses herself in a log cabin, lovely 
 but stupendous. The rooms have glorious big 
 fireplaces, in which whole logs could be burnt. 
 In front of them are broad benches to be com- 
 fortable in, and books in niches on either side. 
 Here, too, was a war shirt, fringed with scalps, 
 one or two of which had, methought, a reddish 
 gold tinge. Down-stairs, attached to a water- 
 cooler, was a cup of solid silver, out of which 
 everybody made a point of drinking, whether 
 thirsty or not. 
 
 In the Kansas Building, in addition to some 
 stuffed animals and an idiotic little train of cars 
 which kept running round a gallery and tooting 
 its whistle shrilly at intervals, was a picture. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 79 
 
 This picture showed a number of heads ; one 
 of a strong-minded woman, with a severe cast 
 of countenance and a pair of spectacles, and 
 others of an Indian, an idiot, a maniac, and a 
 Chinaman. It was called Woman and Her 
 Political Equals. An old man stood before 
 this magnificent work of art, lost in contempla- 
 tion. As I approached, he sighed, "Ain't it an 
 awful contrast!" and plodded down-stairs, 
 shaking his head ; for the painting is in one of 
 the up-stairs rooms. 
 
 Turkey is lodged in a dark, wide-eaved edi- 
 fice, ornamented with the open-work wood 
 carving peculiar to Mohammedans, and known 
 as Meshrebieh, The interior walls are enriched 
 with what I presume (I cannot read them) to be 
 quotations from the Koran ; and over the en- 
 trance is a picture of a city with winding streets 
 and mosques and minarets — Constantinople, 
 perhaps. Rugs, caftans and Turkish garments 
 of all kinds hang in cases on the walls ; there 
 are white stockings, embroidered, and yellow 
 shoes, with turned-up toes ; there are a sort of 
 sandals, too, or pattens, made of hard wood in- 
 laid with ivory and mother of pearl, and raised 
 from three to ten inches off the ground by 
 
8o The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 slender supports, also inlaid. They are kept 
 on the feet by a strip of embroidered velvet 
 passing over the instep. The Turkish women 
 in Midway Plaisance wear them, and it is won- 
 derful with what ease and grace they get about 
 in them. There are books, exquisitely bound 
 and printed ; and a book of music, not printed 
 (though I should have supposed it to be so had 
 not the Turk in charge told me otherwise), but 
 with the score embroidered by hand on leaves 
 of gossamer silk. There are tobacco pipes with 
 stems five or six feet long; and nargilehs of 
 porcelain or glass, painted, chased or gilded, 
 and fitted with long, twisted amber-tipped 
 mouth pieces — the very poetry of smoking. 
 There are cymbals and gongs of brass, and in- 
 laid and carved walking-sticks. But in the 
 Japanese section of the Main Building are canes 
 even more beautiful, exquisitely carved from 
 handle to ferrule. There is jewelry, rings, brace- 
 lets, necklaces, pins, anklets, small daggers — 
 quite different from anything we make. And 
 I saw several of those peculiar little six-sided 
 and six-legged tables, about eighteen inches in 
 diameter and two or three feet high. Altogether, 
 Turkey has made her mark upon the Fair. 
 
VII. 
 
 The Fisheries Building stands at the head of 
 the North Lagoon. Its warm, red-tiled roofs, 
 contrasting with the cream-white of its walls, 
 glow against the sky. Its many and various 
 pillars support arches of all sizes, and form gal- 
 leries connecting the central structure with the 
 wings, through the interstices of which come 
 sunny and sparkling glimpses of trees and lake. 
 The detail of ornament on this building is orig- 
 inal and appropriate. On one slender pillar will 
 be a procession of little newts, twisting round 
 and round, each on the point of nipping his 
 companion's tail. The next is ornamented with 
 star-fish in geometrical pattern, each pointed ray 
 touching some other. Sea-horses and innumer- 
 able little deep-sea creatures have been carved 
 on others, to delight the eye withal. Numerous 
 arched and narrow windows light the building, 
 and it is surmounted by several pointed domes. 
 But, with all this elaboration of ornament, there 
 
 8i 
 
82 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 is no confusion ; the leading idea dominates all 
 the details. 
 
 The two wings contain the fishing boats and 
 implements of the various countries. In some 
 places the walls are draped with nets and seines, 
 brown and gray ; and with much be-pronged 
 fish-spears. Dried fish are exhibited, and fish 
 oils and glues, whose usefulness hardly coun- 
 teracts their evil odor. 
 
 It is the central part that is the most attract- 
 ive, and it is always crowded. The room is 
 circular ; the walls are surrounded with aqua- 
 riums, and there is a big tank in the centre. 
 The light falls in from above. A stream of 
 fresh air is constantly being forced into the 
 water through pipes, causing milUons of little 
 silver bubbles to fly up to the surface and ex- 
 plode there ; other bubbles of pure oxygen form 
 on the fronds of the sea-weeds, like jewels of 
 purest ray serene, indeed. Among the plants 
 and rocks swim fish, eels and crabs, and sea 
 anemones stick to the stones or to the glass 
 sides of the vessels. Fat perch and heavy chub 
 move in and out, with staring eyes ; golden- 
 spotted trout dart nervously hither and thither, 
 and in one tank a couple of dozen goldfish send 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 83 
 
 scarlet and golden gleams through the water. 
 But the anemones, with their waving tentacles, 
 like the petals of the chrysanthemum and the 
 dahlia, are as lovely as anything here. In the 
 big central aquarium are pike and other over- 
 grown fish ; eels sHde about ; and a queer fish, 
 called — Oh ! what ? — lies in the sand at the bot- 
 tom, all covered but one dull eye, glaring apa- 
 thetically at the curious spectator. Elsewhere 
 are huge horseshoe crabs, scrambling about 
 with their numerous legs, while their long, spiky 
 tails move searchingly up and down. 
 
 Vast communities of tiny fish, half an inch 
 long or less, swim round in shoals, as though 
 there were only one mind and wish for the 
 whole number. In short, I should think that 
 every one might find here his favorite creature 
 of the sea — unless it happened to be an oyster, 
 and perhaps carved on some window-arch, or 
 ornamenting some quiet corner, even oysters 
 may be discovered. At all events, fresh clams 
 are to be had in the neighboring restaurant. 
 
 North of the Liberal Arts is the Government 
 Building, which, I am sorry to say, is architec- 
 turally ugly. But it makes up inside for its ex- 
 ternal shortcomings. Everything bearing on 
 
84 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 these our United States is represented. For 
 instance, in the Post Office department each 
 method used for carrying mails is shown, from 
 the gallant cowboy and mustang of the Pony Ex- 
 press, and the battered and bullet-riddled Rocky 
 Mountain Coach (the coach exhibited here was 
 twice captured by the Indians), to the model of 
 the fastest and most improved modern mail- 
 train. Elsewhere are figures clad in our army 
 uniforms, from those of the Revolution down to 
 the present day. Live soldiers, belonging to the 
 corps camped on the field behind the building, 
 are sauntering about, too. The buff and blue 
 costume of a brigadier of Washington's armiv — 
 and a handsome and stately uniform it was — 
 may be contrasted with the simple blue flannel 
 worn by the business like Indian scouts of our 
 own day. Here are guns, rifles, cannon and 
 the U. S. A. wagons drawn by six mules, and 
 carrying tents, beds and the field equipment of 
 the soldiers. 
 
 In the Patent department are models of recent 
 inventions. Wonderful contrivances some of 
 them are ; from an irresistible little machine for 
 drawing corks out of bottles to complicated en- 
 gines, with a man at hand to explain them and 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 85 
 
 show how they annihilate mountains or destroy 
 distance. 
 
 There are tanks where fish are raised from 
 spawn, a grayish mass of which is made to re- 
 volve in glass jars of water ; and there are sev- 
 eral designs of fish-hatcheries. Here are also 
 stuffed fish, and casts offish and sea lions, seals, 
 and the skeleton of a giant whale, together with 
 the jawbones of one yet more gigantic. Wax 
 men in tarpaulins sit in fishing boats from Nan- 
 tucket ; an Indian sits in his dugout with his 
 spear poised, and a darkey, half asleep, sits 
 fishing with his toes in a quiet pool. In glazed 
 cases are corals, and green, pink, brilliant-blue 
 and creamy-white crystals. 
 
 From the Smithsonian Institute come glass 
 cases containing birds and animals, arranged 
 in a sort of dramatic groups, to show the man- 
 ner in which they effect, for good or ill, the 
 material and products of agriculture. Two or 
 three crows are rooting out of the ground the 
 newly-sprouted corn ; a weasel, in another case, 
 has buried his sharp teeth in the throat of an 
 unfortunate pullet ; a couple of sparrows wait 
 on each side of a robin, ready to make a dash 
 for the worm she is about to jerk out of the 
 
 7 
 
86 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 lawn and carry to her young. Robbers and 
 murderers — only they don't know it. 
 
 Models of Indians show the clothing of the 
 various tribes and their methods of making 
 things. An old man is painting a battle scene 
 on a piece of hide ; a squaw embroiders a shirt, 
 or makes a pair of moccasins. The most beau- 
 tiful dress is that of a Pueblo Indian, consisting 
 of a cincture reaching half-way down the thigh 
 and cut in points, composed of brilliant breast- 
 feathers of parrots — scarlet, green, yellow and 
 blue, arranged and mingled with artistic skill. 
 On the head of the figure was a sort of crown 
 of the same material, in the same style ; round 
 his neck, across his chest and round his arms 
 are strings of iridescent beetle wings, and 
 chains of tiny teeth from some small animal. 
 
 A Sioux warrior, in full panoply of war, is 
 mounted on a mustang. His head is encircled 
 with eagle feathers, and the long crest hangs 
 down over the pony's side. Bead-embroidered 
 moccasins cover his feet ; a buckskin shirt, 
 decorated with porcupine quills and fringes, 
 leg-einfrs ornamented in like manner, and a sort 
 of waistcoat, solid with beads, form the rest of 
 his costume. He is armed with rifle and scalp- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 87 
 
 ing knife. The horse is also beautifully capari- 
 soned. All the Indians I have seen riding at 
 Buffalo Bill's (a good many) carry the rein in 
 the right hand. I wonder if this be the invari- 
 able custom.^ They are perfect riders; no 
 others can touch them in grace and ease, and 
 riding as they do, without saddles, man and 
 horse seem one. 
 
 But there are interesting things of all kinds. 
 A giant tree from California ; numerous relics 
 of Washington ; manuscript grants of land in 
 Colonial times ; models of bridges, dikes and 
 sluices ; a great globe-map of the United States, 
 with steps in front ; and in all parts of the build- 
 ing are crowds of people, with the proud and 
 consciously-important bearing of the American, 
 who says to himself: "Uncle Sam may be 
 young, but he gets there just the same ! " He 
 certainly does ; and I spent many an hour in 
 this house of his, without either wearying my- 
 self or exhausting it. 
 
 On coming down the steps I saw people walk- 
 ing round the roof of the Big Building, the great 
 height making them dwindle into insignificance. 
 There goes a man who doubtless thinks himself 
 .important and interesting, and feels mightily 
 
88 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 mil, looking down on the human ants crawling 
 below him ; and yet he is completely blotted 
 out of sight by a flagstaff which he probably 
 does not even notice. What if he were sud- 
 denly to feel as small as he looks ! But I am 
 myself going up there, the flagstaff notwith- 
 standing ; for the view from the top of that 
 mighty structure must be worth seeing. 
 
 I ascended in a quick elevator, flying hun- 
 dreds and hundreds of feet straight upwards, 
 while everything grew small beneath me. Be- 
 fore I could realize it I was landed on a strip 
 of platform just beneath the roof, with the wide 
 area of floor spread out below, crowded with 
 buildings like a city, and with the roofs off, like 
 that other city revealed by a certain Diable 
 Boitettx, But it was fearfully hot there, and I 
 was glad to get out in the cool breeze. 
 
 Right before me is the great Lake. The east 
 wind roughens it, and its waves beat restlessly 
 on the paved beach, and its color changes like 
 the chameleon. Far off is a little steamer, leav- 
 ing behind her, as she goes eastward, a trail of 
 sooty smoke. Near at hand are anchored a 
 gunboat and a yacht or two, heaving slightly 
 on the swell. Nearer still a long throng of peo- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 89 
 
 pie, looking like disturbed insects, swarm along 
 the esplanade and congregate round the band- 
 stand. I can hear the music to which they are 
 listening, mingling like a dream-harmony with 
 the sound of the surf. I walk slowly towards 
 the north end of the Building. There below 
 Wooded Island seems to float in its lagoon, 
 coquetting with its own image in the water, 
 which is besprinkled with boats. I can distin- 
 guish a red and amber glow from the rose gar- 
 den; but the perfume will not rise to this height. 
 There is the white security of the Palace of Art, 
 not less supremely satisfying here than when 
 close at hand. There is the red-domed Fish- 
 eries, and the whole assemblage of State and 
 Foreign Buildings, which, with the lawns and 
 trees, and the ever-present people, make a liv- 
 ing picture of life, beauty and variety. 
 
 To the west, between me and the Electricity 
 Building, lies the canal, blue as a sapphire. 
 Beyond is the Transportation, with its great 
 golden doorway ; and there are people on its 
 roof, too, but not so high aloft as I. There 
 stands Festival Hall, white, and massively sym- 
 metrical, with columned portico. The crystal 
 dome of Horticultural glistens in the sun. The 
 
90 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 dainty Puck Building, and the Children's, with 
 the touch of blue on its white surface, and the 
 Woman's, with its parapet of statues, fill out the 
 row. Still farther westward is the confused aggre- 
 gation of houses, hotels, and what-not beyond the 
 gates; and far off, outlined clearly on the horizon 
 the giant Ferris Wheel slowly revolves. 
 
 I turn, and see on my left the figure of the 
 Republic, as beautiful as ever. Opposite, on 
 the dome of Agricultural Palace, the golden 
 Diana is about to let fly her arrow over the lake. 
 While I am watching to see it leave the string 
 a mighty cloud passes over the sun and works 
 a lovely change. The dazzling water takes a 
 soft gray tint, with white half-hghts. Diana and 
 the Republic no longer flash in the rays, but 
 seem to have absorbed the light, and glow 
 softly. Over the white walls and pillars, and 
 the shafts crowned with Neptunes, and the 
 fountain, with its leaping waters, a gray shadow 
 has fallen. Administration's dome shows the 
 delicate white enamehng of its golden surface, 
 and only the ruddy color within Agricultural's 
 arcade remains unalterea. 
 
 But the wind is strong, and the cloud passes. 
 It was a moment of gentle gloom, amidst all 
 the smiles and laughter. 
 
VIII. 
 
 It is much easier to get into the Main Build- 
 ing than to get out of it. When the elevator 
 returned me to the floor it was my intention to 
 go straight to the Palace of Art. But I did not 
 go quite so straight as I intended. 
 
 Near the north end of the Building there is 
 a small space, in which stands a little sail-boat. 
 It is rigged like a sloop, with a short, stout mast 
 and a shorter bowsprit; and it is just fourteen 
 feet long. Yet in this boat, called "The Sapolio," 
 a man — Captain Andrews — crossed the Atlantic 
 ocean, in a trip that lasted sixty-three days. 
 
 The boat is very strongly built throughout, 
 and is almost entirely decked over. She looks 
 weather-worn, but is apparently as staunch and 
 tight as when she was first launched. Near 
 her, within the enclosure, sits Captain Andrews 
 himself, a wiry man of medium size, and ap- 
 parently under forty years old. He has a 
 light reddish moustache, and smail gray eyes ; 
 his manner is reticent, but he answers good- 
 
 91 
 
92 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 naturedly the many questions that are asked 
 him, chiefly by women. ** Weren't you afraid 
 you'd tip over, sometimes ?" " How did you 
 manage to sleep at night ?" " Didn't you feel 
 lonely?" " How did you cook your meals?" 
 " Weren't you tired of it before you landed ? " 
 The captain is always polite, but he looks al- 
 most as much bored as he must often have felt 
 while on his trip. At the back of the enclosure 
 is a wild scene of mountainous waves, part paint 
 and part canvas, with a fac-simile of " The 
 Sapolio" plunging through them, and of Captain 
 Andrews clinging to the tiller, and peering 
 anxiously through the flying foam, eastward. 
 
 There is a bronze vase, by Gustave Dore, in 
 the French exhibit. It is very large ; but it 
 does not seem to me more than half as tall 
 as somebody said it was — fifteen feet. Its 
 shape is very graceful, and yet is unlike the 
 ordinary Greek form. But it is the decoration, 
 rather than the shape or size, that held me fixed 
 in admiration. It is all betwined with grape- 
 vines, the leaves and clusters of fruit making a 
 charming tangle, distributed over the surface 
 Climbing up by these vines, swinging from the 
 tendrils, bending over the wide mouth of the 
 
< 
 
 o 
 
 u 
 < 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 95 
 
 stately vase, or crawling about its base, are 
 scores of little cupids, laughing bacchantes, 
 satyrs, Bacchus himself, and many other little 
 creatures of the woods and fields. Such a 
 riotous and merry time as they are having ! 
 In one place, however, a sulky satyr (who has 
 probably had his absurd goat-tail pulled) is be- 
 laboring a poor little cupid, who, in his efforts 
 to escape, has nearly tumbled off altogether. 
 As for Bacchus, he has evidently been to the 
 vase's mouth several times already ; but he has 
 come back to bring thither a merry girl, round 
 whose waist he has slipped his arm, as much 
 to steady himself as to help her. The whole 
 jolly company are climbing up, or helping or 
 retarding one another, with shouts and laughter 
 which you may see, if you cannot hear them. 
 There is a big spider, however, who meets with 
 no sympathy or mercy from any of them ; the 
 most drunk of all that drunken crowd is re- 
 solved that the spider shall get off, and quickly 
 too. After gazing at the scene awhile, I began 
 to long to climb the vase myself, and peer into 
 its depths ; for it looks as though it might be a 
 new Baucis' Pitcher, brimming over — not with 
 milk, but — with champagne ; or, perhaps, it is 
 the long-sought Fountain of Youth itself. 
 
94 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 The Swiss carvings in wood are wonderful. 
 There is a life-size chamois, poised on a dizzy 
 peak, his alert and listening attitude suggesting 
 the click of a hunter's gun. "What was that 
 queer noise ?" he thinks to himself; "I don't 
 half like it I " There are also several life-like 
 (not life-size) bears, tumbling about or stagger- 
 ing on funny, crooked little legs. A real bear, 
 just like these, is to be seen in the Arena on 
 Midway Plaisance. Here, too, are wooden 
 dogs just on the point of barking, and wooden 
 birds that seem just about to take flight. All 
 the Swiss carvings suggest motion, not repose. 
 
 Then I found myself walking between tables 
 covered with the most delicate glass, enriched 
 with a network of gold and silver, or elabo- 
 rately cut and tinged with faint hues, or glow^- 
 ing with deep color. How could human hands 
 fashion things so airily beautiful, so exquisitely 
 graceful ! But after seeing the many marvelous 
 works of man in these buildings it is hard to 
 say what he might 7iot do. 
 
 The Spanish section is beautified with Moor- 
 ish arches, striped pale pink and white. They 
 form lovely vistas in every direction. Standing 
 by the Clock Tower in the centre of the Build- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 95 
 
 ing, I got a charming coup d' ceil oi the main 
 divisions. Looking south, France is on the left 
 hand. The arches over the entrances and win- 
 dows are supported on the naked arms and 
 shoulders of stately caryatides, and behind the 
 sheets of plate glass are dainty dresses, and 
 tapestries and splendid furniture are arranged 
 to make pretty salons and delicious boudoirs. 
 The coloring is always harmonious, sometimes 
 delicate and gay, sometimes rich and subdued. 
 The most fastidious temperament could find 
 here exactly what would suit it — if Fortunatus' 
 purse happened to be within reach. 
 
 On the west side of the main aisle is Ger- 
 many, whose main entrance is through the great 
 iron gates, which are wonderfully wrought, but 
 which I seldom remember to have found open. 
 Behind the gates, and forming the central feat- 
 ure of the exhibit, is an immense picture in 
 painted tiles. It is twenty-five or thirty feet 
 high, and half as broad. It is light and sunny 
 in tone, and there is a pleasant pinky effect all 
 through it. It represents maidens and other 
 figures, with glimpses of a fair city mounting 
 skyward in the background. The roofs and 
 arches in this section are upheld by muscular 
 
96 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 men's torsos, instead of the stately virgins of 
 the French department. Back of the great 
 picture is a perfect Paradise of children's toys. 
 There are playthings of every imaginable kind, 
 all the historic old ones of the German Fairy 
 Tales, and all the new ones, too, in splendid 
 array. Such dolls and rocking-horses, and nut- 
 crackers and sugar-dollies, and Santa Clauses, 
 and villages, and all other things that make 
 Christmas delightful, were never before seen 
 together. Here^ibouts also, I think, or near 
 here, is a fur exhibit which contains a dozen 
 great gray wolves, sitting with their red tongues 
 lolling out of their grinning jaws ; and a num- 
 ber of polar bears, one of which, standing on 
 his hind legs, is ten or twelve feet high, and 
 looks big enough co swallow an Esquimaux at 
 a single mouthful. The place is more like a 
 magnificent menagerie than a fur-shop. 
 
 The partitions of the Japanese exhibit are 
 painted red, and the entrances are something 
 in the style of pagodas, with gates of iron work, 
 but quite unlike the German ones. England is 
 opposite France, as it is in the geography maps. 
 There is nothing else distinctive about their ex- 
 hibit^ however^ except the red cross flag of Great 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 97 
 
 Britain, with white lettering on it. But there is 
 an Elizabethan Room, with carved oak wain- 
 scoting and furniture, and tapestried walls, hung 
 with trophies of swords and armor. Southward, 
 farther down on the opposite side, is Russia's 
 stately entrance, and close at hand are Tiffany's 
 pavilion and the Gorham exhibit, in which is the 
 sohd silver Columbus, by Bartholdi. 
 
 The Clock Tower stands on four arches, and 
 beneath them is a model of Bunker Hill Monu- 
 ment in silver souvenir half-dollars. At stated 
 times during the day the chimes are rung from 
 this tower, and you may sit on a chair in front 
 of your favorite exhibit and listen to the clear, 
 sweet sounds, and be happy. Once, when I 
 was there, the Tower and surrounding space 
 were decorated with small fir and spruce trees 
 (in honor of some visit of directors), which filled 
 the air with their aromatic odor — a breath from 
 the wild pine forests. Sousa's Band was play- 
 ing, and the triumphant harmony rose to the 
 vast roof, and spread about in lovely echoes, 
 even to the arched doorways of the Building. 
 I shall now follow them thither, and bid a final 
 farewell to the Palace of Liberal Arts and Mai)- 
 ufactures. 
 
IX. 
 
 The Palace of Art is like a beautiful enchaPx- 
 tress, who lures people to her bower, and then 
 deprives them of all appearance of life. I have 
 seen more persons looking utterly and hope- 
 lessly worn out there than in all the other parts 
 of the Fair put together. I suppose the reason 
 is that so much energy is used up in looking at 
 the pictures and statues that none is left for any 
 other purpose ; and to make matters worse, 
 there are not nearly enough seats to rest on. I 
 found the best plan was to go there early in the 
 morning for an hour or two, and thus keep fresh 
 and ready for impressions. To appreciate a 
 good picture or statue, I want to feel perfectly 
 well, and above all, not to feel hurried. Often 
 I would look at but two or three pictures in a 
 morning. 
 
 In this way I not only foiled the deadly spells 
 of the enchantress, but enjoyed myself im- 
 mensely. 
 
 The largest room (in the central part of the 
 
 98 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 99 
 
 Building) is filled with statues and groups of 
 sculpture, by both American and foreign artists. 
 One of the biggest pieces shows an Indian on 
 horseback, about to give a buffalo the coup de 
 grace. The horse has been forced upon his 
 hind legs, and his forefeet are over the buffalo's 
 shoulders, while the Indian leans forward, spear 
 in hand. So much of the group is fairly good. 
 But the buffalo, instead of putting forth its enor- 
 mous strength in a furious effort, walks gently 
 along, his head wagging towards the horse with 
 a deprecating gesture, as much as to say : " I 
 hope Fm not incommoding you ! " I think the 
 animal that posed for this statue must have 
 been stuffed. He certainly looks dead, and the 
 veritable forest of supports that prop him up 
 seem to emphasize his deadness. 
 
 There is another group of an Indian and 
 buffalo, and here the artist has represented the 
 buffalo as really dead ; the Indian has set his 
 foot upon him with a conquering air. This 
 poor creature looks even less like reality than 
 the other. Indians appear to be favorite models. 
 A Frenchman has modelled an Indian on horse- 
 back, which is quite good. The brave wears a 
 war-bonnet, loin-cloth and moccasins, and holds 
 8 
 
loo The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 a spear in his raised right hand. The horse 
 is standing still. The Indian sits easily, and 
 Indian-like. Another Indian, supposed to be 
 dancing the ghost-dance, looks as if he had a 
 violent stomach-ache, and had swallowed a 
 dose of paregoric. 
 
 There is a marble of a drunken bacchante, 
 spread out on her back, one hand thrown over 
 her head, the other grasping a bunch of grapes. 
 She is laughing to herself, and her attitude, 
 though expressing the most utter abandon, is 
 very graceful. And there is a statue of a girl, 
 naked, and running at full speed, shouting out 
 some message. In her impetuosity she has 
 flung herself far forward, and her foot seems 
 hardly to touch the ground. This is the work 
 of Hippolite Le Roy. 
 
 " The Struggle for Bread " is the name of a 
 huge life-size group. The demand for work 
 being exceeded by the supply, tickets have 
 been issued by the factory, holders of which 
 may get positions. In the rush to secure the 
 tickets a strong young fellow in workman's 
 blouse has been successful ; and success means 
 to him, perhaps, life, wife and home. But an 
 old man, just able to stagger, begs for it; a 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. loi 
 
 starving woman, with her children, and a dying 
 baby in her arms, try to snatch at it ; and he 
 stands above them, with the hand holding the 
 ticket raised over his head, hesitating. 
 
 The work is well done, so far as characteri- 
 zation and technical handling go. But a statue 
 or group should have no purpose except to ex- 
 press beauty and truth. When it aims to in- 
 culcate a moral, or illustrate some social evil, 
 it is no longer a work of art. It becomes a 
 sort of tract. Nor do I see how it can do any 
 good. This group will not induce selfish or 
 thoughtless people to help the workingman ; 
 and yet for what other end was it made ? 
 
 Kemeys has some bronzes in the room be- 
 neath the dome. The largest is of a panther 
 and cubs. She Hes in lazy comfort, licking one 
 of the cubs, who cranes its neck luxuriously, 
 while the other rolls over, ready for play. 
 There is a smaller figure of a bear kicking 
 grotesquely on his back, and eating honey. 
 The " Fighting Panther and Deer " stand in a 
 deadly lock, from which neither can escape. A 
 jaguar, who has sprung on a peccary, crouches 
 with his teeth buried in its throat, drinking its 
 blood with terrible relish. One day, when I 
 
I02 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 was near this spot, some Japanese gathered 
 round this jaguar, and drew one another's at- 
 tention to its good points — speaking English, 
 for an American was with them — and departed 
 Hngeringly, with the benign verdict, •' Good — 
 Oh, very good ! " 
 
 Mr. Elwell has a group of Dickens, sitting 
 in an arm chair, on a pedestal, against the base 
 of which, looking up towards him, stands little 
 Nell. The Dickens, no doubt, resembles that 
 author, and the Nell is a pretty little girl ; but 
 I thought the group uninteresting and senti- 
 mental. 
 
 D. C. French, who modelled " The Repub- 
 lic," has a group here of " Death and the 
 Sculptor." A boyish, handsome young fellow 
 is chiselling the head of the Sphinx in bas- 
 relief, and his mallet is poised for a blow. But 
 Death gently pushes aside the other hand, 
 which holds the chisel. The youth turns in 
 surprise to look at her. She appears to him as 
 a beautiful woman in flowing draperies, with a 
 veil partly shrouding her head, and a sort of 
 mistiness over her face. Her great wings 
 sweep in long curves to the ground. Her ex- 
 pression is sweet, sad and compassionate, and 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 103 
 
 seems to convey a mysterious promise. It is a 
 true work of art, nobly conceived and done; 
 but in no part is the sculptor's genius so mani- 
 fest as in that awe-inspiring vagueness wrought 
 upon the beautiful features ; such a dimness as 
 must ever envelop Death, even at that moment 
 when she takes our hand in her's. 
 
 Elsewhere in this room is a Hercules strug- 
 gling with a lion. Man and beast are clutched 
 and twisted together in the desperate fight. 
 Their muscles strain and swell on bodies and 
 limbs ; Hercules is about to make his final 
 effort, and then the lion, mighty as he is, must 
 yield. 
 
 Among the number of busts of well-known 
 men is a full length of Shakespeare, relaxed in 
 his chair, his finger between the leaves of a 
 book. This statue (by W. O. Partridge) is to 
 stand in Linden Park. I suppose it is almost 
 impossible to carve or paint such a Shakes- 
 peare as shall fulfil all our ideals of him. This 
 man, though handsome and graceful enough, 
 is certainly not my Shakespeare. The fire, the 
 humor, the strong delight in life, and the 
 shadow of mystery that I looked for, I did not 
 find in this cold and meditative figure. 
 
I04 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 The bare-backed statue of a man lifting a 
 shovel full of earth is fine and muscular, but he 
 seems to be putting forth a tremendous amount 
 of energy for a comparatively slight cause. 
 
 There are some pretty and spirited bronzes 
 and marbles of boys in telling postures, and 
 several lovely female figures. One of these 
 stands drawn up on tiptoe, the very essence of 
 dainty coquetry. There is a charming " For- 
 tune," too, with eyes blindfolded and drapery 
 floating out in the breeze of her going ; and in 
 one of the rooms there is a naked captive 
 woman, kneeling, with hands bound behind 
 her, and leaning far forward, so that she may 
 suckle her infant, who lies before her, happy 
 and comfortable. 
 
 But paintings are the predominant feature in 
 this Building. All civiHzed nations are repre- 
 sented, and the number of good pictures is large. 
 Comparatively few are absolutely bad, and it is 
 easy not to see them. Many of the landscapes 
 have original effects of color and light, and 
 some of the nudes are very beautiful. Among 
 the portraits is Sargent's of Ellen Terry as Lady 
 Macbeth, The likeness is good, but that is the 
 least important artistic excellence of the work. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 105 
 
 There stands the Queen, tall and erect, the hnes 
 of her figure revealed by the close-fitting gar- 
 ment, iridescent, like a serpent's skin, and 
 changing with peacock blues and greens. A 
 cloak hangs back from her shoulders, and her 
 hair falls in two thick bands of splendid reddish 
 gold, bound with ribbon, on both sides of her 
 face and to her knees. In her hands she holds 
 just above her head the blood-stained crown. 
 Her face is set, cold and haughty ; but in her 
 eyes, which look straight forward, is a horror — a 
 dread of the unknown to come — that fascinates 
 me. Face and arms are ghastly white, clearly 
 defined against the deep blue-green background 
 and the splendor of the royal garments. It is 
 is so powerful a picture, and so stirring to the 
 feelings, that I could not look at it long at a 
 time without becoming tired. Sargent has other 
 portraits here ; one, a little girl in white, is par- 
 ticularly effective ; but the Ellen Terry drew me 
 back again and again. 
 
 In the corridor is a picture, by an American 
 artist, which rarely lacks a group of admirers. 
 It is called " Breaking Home Ties." It is of a 
 very realistic type, and is not especially well 
 painted. In a small room in a country farm 
 
io6 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 house stands the son, about to go forth in the 
 world. His mother, a worn and weary woman, 
 with a sad face, lays her hands on his shoulders. 
 The boy himself appears rather stupid and un- 
 demonstrative ; others of the family circle stand 
 about. One day, as I was passing this picture, 
 half a dozen persons, evidently from some farm 
 house themselves, were gathered in front of it. 
 There were the old farmer and his old wife, two 
 young men and two girls. One of the young 
 fellows presently broke the silence by saying, 
 with a sigh : " Now, thaf s what I call a picture. 
 It suits me down to the ground, and I don't 
 care who knows it." Another silence. "And 
 do look at that lovely wall-paper," added one 
 of the girls. "I tell you," exclaimed the old 
 father, "the man that painted that knows how 
 to paint!" 
 p There are several sensational pictures, which 
 always have a cluster of spectators. The girl 
 who is about to drink a goblet of the blood of 
 an aristocrat to save her father's life, while her 
 lover lies dead at her feet, and the mad rabble 
 surges about ; or the Guard being shot down on 
 the steps of the Tuileries, and lying all the way 
 up them in picturesque death attitudes ; or the 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 107 
 
 **Flagellants," a bloody scene of crazy fanatics ; 
 these, and others which tell similar gruesome 
 stories, always attract attention. A work of this 
 class, but redeemed by a touch of imagination, 
 is to be found in the Spanish section. The 
 Saracens, it seems, had a habit of fighting be- 
 hind a rampart made of black slaves, chained 
 by collars round their necks to a long chain at- 
 tached to a series of strong posts driven into 
 the ground ; the slaves were naked and armed 
 only with spears. The picture shows a troop of 
 knights in full armor charging on this human 
 stockade. The horse of the leader has leaped 
 and is coming down on one of the blacks, who 
 crouches to the earth, trying to shield his head 
 from the impending hoofs. The entire line be- 
 tween the posts is in wild disorder ; but the iron 
 bands round the men's necks hold firm, and in 
 a moment the thunder of the charge will have 
 passed, leaving behind a hideous, trampled 
 mass. 
 
 In another room is a picture of a placid bay, 
 tinted with curving rainbow lines of gold and 
 green, and blue and silver, such as I have some- 
 times seen in the early morning, or just before 
 sunset. Dispersed about the sandy beach are 
 
io8 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 several girls, and others are in the water ; their 
 flesh is beautifully painted, but the figure-draw- 
 ing is not very good. It is a large canvas, and 
 the luminous tone is delightful. Another sea 
 scene shows the body of a naked woman rolled 
 up by the waves. She is presumably dead, but 
 even so, the purple hue of her skin looks im- 
 possible. 
 
 In the EngHsh rooms are two pictures by 
 Watts, "Love and Life" and "Love and 
 Death." There are seats in front of them, 
 luckily, and I sat and looked at them to my 
 heart's content. Poor winged Love, warm and 
 sunny, striving at the threshold with that veiled, 
 pallid, immitigable phantom, who must pass, 
 and scarce knows that he was resisted ! In the 
 other canvas Love appears as a strong and fair 
 youth, who has led Life, a slight and fragile 
 girl, to a dizzy mountain top. She is fainting 
 and afraid, but his hand holds hers, his tender 
 voice cheers her, and still he leads her higher. 
 
 There are three great pictures in the Russian 
 section, besides several that are fine — such as 
 a little desert scene with Arabs and camels, in 
 a luminous atmosphere ; and two delicate 
 water-color drawings. I also liked the old Jew 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 109 
 
 looking at a sleeping woman. But the three 
 chef-d' ceuvres are "A Storm in Mid- Ocean," 
 "The Landing of Columbus," and " The Cos- 
 sack's Reply." The first two are the work of 
 one artist. In the "Storm" a ship is reeling 
 in the trough of the sea ; a mountainous wave 
 is heaving high above her ; foam flies before 
 the wind ; the skies are dark ; the crew is hud- 
 dled together on the slant of the deck, towards 
 the stern, expecting death in the coming wave. 
 But through a rift in the sombre clouds a great 
 beam of white sunlight pierces, making a path 
 of radiance which falls across the ship and 
 gleams on the turmoil of waters beyond, trans- 
 muting them to emerald. This shaft of light is 
 wonderfully painted ; one almost thinks that it 
 must come from the real sun, through some un- 
 seen aperture. 
 
 In " The Landing of Columbus " the scene is 
 flooded with golden rosy light of sunrise, so like 
 and so unlike the sunset hues. Mountains and 
 feathery palms are tinted by it, and so are the 
 disembarking groups. The morning is calm, 
 and the sea breaks softly on the beach. In the 
 middle distance, slumbering in the amber haze, 
 the three caravels that have brought the ex- 
 plorers lie, rocking on the lazy swell. 
 
1 1 o The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 *' The Cossack's Reply " is of a different tem- 
 per from these. Crowded round a table, on 
 which one of them is writing, is a throng of wild 
 soldiers, each of whom is in his own fashion 
 roaring with laughter. One powerful fellow, his 
 broad chest bare, is thrown back with his eyes 
 sciewed up, while he bellows forth his merri- 
 ment from his great throat. It seems as if the 
 canvas must shake with it. Another older man, 
 with a stringy neck and protruding eyes, is 
 chuckling so contagiously that I found myself 
 smiling in sympathy ; and so with the rest ; they 
 sit on barrels and overturned boxes, knives and 
 pistols stuck in their belts, and every sunburnt 
 visage convulsed with mirth. An outer ring of 
 men, attracted by the noise, but not knowing 
 the joke, are laughing at the others' laughter ; 
 but the difference between the reflected merri- 
 ment and the original is excellently portrayed. 
 One of the outsiders looks on with a scornful 
 smile; perhaps he is the bearer from the enemy's 
 camp of the message which the Cossack is an- 
 swering with such irresistible humor. 
 
 Rosa Bonheur has some pictures in the 
 French section. A splendid stag, life size, stands 
 before a background of deep forest, knee-high 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 1 1 1 
 
 in grass and vines. His head is up, his forefeet 
 are close together and his eyes are fixed on 
 yours. He is almost out of the canvas, and 
 coming unexpectedly upon the picture, you 
 think he really is out of it. A kingly creature 
 he is ! In contrast to him is the little cow, yel- 
 low and quiet, with fields stretching serenely off 
 behind her. He is so untamable and danger- 
 ous, and she is so safe and soporific ! 
 
 In another of the French rooms is a strange 
 picture of a little Egyptian girl walking through 
 a marble hall, followed by two leopards, slink- 
 ing along with shining, upturned eyes. There 
 are several pictures of lions, in deserts, or in 
 traps, or walking with tigers and panthers 
 through the streets of ruined cities, deserted 
 even by the ghosts of men. And there is a 
 statue of a tiger in the central room, the stripes 
 on which have been indicated by roughening 
 the surface - a bad idea, I thought. 
 
 In one of the American rooms (I think) is a 
 picture of a row of girls in Spanish costume, 
 seated on a bench, playing the tambourine and 
 singing. Their faces are strongly illuminated 
 by the footlights, and at first the effect was 
 starthng, and, I thought, ugly. But by and by, 
 
1 1 2 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 when I got accustomed to it, I saw how fine 
 it was. The character of each of the girls is 
 strongly marked, and they are not all pretty ; 
 and somehow, in that glare of light, they seem 
 alive. 
 
 A picture of Circe, on the contrary, is full of 
 morbid poetry. She sits throned and crowned 
 and naked on a jewelled seat, with gems upon 
 her arms and neck, in a strange witch-light 
 that gives her skin a peculiar alabaster white- 
 ness, unlike ordinary flesh. In the foreground 
 is a herd of swine, tumbling and grunting con- 
 fusedly. 
 
 A beautiful nude is that of a girl stepping 
 between tall rushes into a quiet river. Though 
 the painting appears solid, the color is laid on 
 so thin that the texture of the canvas is visible. 
 Elsewhere is a group of a boy and girl who 
 have just emerged from a sea-bath, and now 
 are trying to shove a most unwilling dog into 
 the water. 
 
 It was in the three rooms containing the 
 Loan Exhibition that I spent most of my time. 
 In an adjoining room are several of Inness' 
 paintings. What a glorious wealth of color, 
 what depth and softness, his canvases have ! 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 1 1 3 
 
 The trees, scarlet and gold in autumnal mag- 
 nificence ; the dark blue skies with white 
 clouds, the shadows in the long, green grass, 
 the moist, warm atmosphere — after once mak- 
 ing the acquaintance of Inness, no one can 
 afterwards mistake anything of his for an- 
 other's. 
 
 On the two sides of a screen is a little collec- 
 tion of works by Elihu Vedder ; small pictures, 
 but full of imagination. The two heads, " Sam- 
 son " and " Dehlah " were among them ; Deli- 
 lah glancing sidewise out of her beautiful black 
 eyes, in which is a gleam of cruelty, reflected 
 on hei mouth. " The Lair of the Sea-Serpent " 
 shows a sandy spit zig-zagging out into the pale 
 blue sea, with a pale sky above, and the great 
 serpent disposed at ease, and looking terrible 
 enough. In another canvas, on the yellow 
 sand, lies the huge roc's ^gg, a group of Arabs 
 camped beside it, some of them peeping through 
 a hole in its thick shell. Far away, almost 
 small in the distance, above a stretch of water — 
 perhaps the Persian Gulf — the awful bird itself 
 sails through the air towards the unsuspecting 
 Arabs. The color in these paintings is rather 
 hard, but I like it, and them. They have a 
 great deal in them besides paint and execution. 
 
1 1 4 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 But it was to the Corots that I returned often- 
 est. I cannot tell in what lies their pecuHar 
 fascination. They express the poetry of land- 
 scape, and " the light that never was, on sea or 
 land," illumines them. Yet it is the very light 
 of nature, too. The dream figures that saunter 
 under the spreading branches of the trees, or 
 sing and dance on the dark grass, are graceful 
 and beautiful enough even for such a land as 
 that they dwell in. But there is something in- 
 describable, a mystery, a sort of imprisoned 
 music, a — I know not what ! — which is the best 
 and most wondrous part of them. 
 
 There are two or three Meissoniers here — 
 delicate, exquisite little things, sunny and clear ; 
 cavaliers riding across a plain, or taking obser- 
 vations from some lovely hill. I was delighted, 
 too, by the rich, warm colors of midsummer, as 
 portrayed by Bougereau and Rousseau. Alma 
 Tadema's " Reading from Homer" is beautiful 
 with such marble as only he can paint ; the 
 Greeks, in graceful, unconscious poses, listen 
 to the Reader, who leans forward, his face 
 glowing in sympathy with the mighty lines he 
 reads. 
 
 There is a fine collection of Millets. The 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 1 1 5 
 
 " Sheep Shearers ;" the men bringing in a new- 
 born calf; a girl sitting on a hillock with a dis- 
 taff in her hand ; the man hoeing ; and others. 
 Wonderful paintings I can see they are ; though 
 I do not hke them. That man with a hoe ! 
 how wearily he pushes himself erect — as erect 
 as he can ever be — with the help of the hoe 
 handle. The landscape is dull, and he does 
 not look at it ; his face shows nothing but Toil. 
 Toil stretching behind him as far as he can 
 remember, and before him as far as he can 
 think. Doubtless a great work ; but its hope- 
 less sadness, greater even than its art, re- 
 pels me. 
 
 Up in a corner, beside a door, is " La Cigale," 
 which is deliciously lovely. She partly leans 
 against a high wall, in an attitude of negligent 
 grace ; the body is all beautiful sweeping curves, 
 and the color is delicate and poetical. Poor 
 Cigale ! She is very different from the man 
 with the hoe, who, I suppose, might represent 
 for the nonce the industrious Fourmis. 
 
 In the middle room is a Bastien-Lepage — a 
 
 pale gray and misty river scene, with piers and 
 
 boats. Marie Bashkirtseff, who cared very 
 
 much for Lepage, has a picture of a couple of 
 
 9 
 
1 1 6 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 French children — "Jean et Jacques," which is 
 in the Woman's Building. I was curious to 
 see whether he had influenced her ; but noth- 
 ing could be wider apart than their methods — 
 if Marie could be said to have any recogniz- 
 able method at all. Her independence, such 
 as it is, is to her credit, nevertheless. Her 
 feeling for art must have been genuine. 
 
 Among the "Loans" is Gerome's famous 
 picture, "Son Eminence Grise," in which His 
 Eminence, in his gray monk's habit, and ap- 
 parently absorbed in the pages of his breviary, 
 comes down a flight of stairs. A gay company 
 of lords and cavahers are at the same moment 
 going up, gorgeous in their silks and satins. 
 Those below him uncover and bow humbly 
 down ; but those who have passed on above him 
 show their hatred and resentment in their faces 
 and gestures. His Eminence, with the pride 
 that apes humility, afl'ects to be unconscious of 
 them and their greetings, and treats the butter- 
 fly throng as if they had no existence. But 
 should any of them fail to make obeisance, I 
 suspect they w^ould regret it. 
 
 Before I leave Gerome I want to speak of a 
 group of sculpture by him, in another part of 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 1 1 7 
 
 the Building. It stands in a circular place at 
 the end of a corridor, alone. It shows the mo- 
 ment when Galatea first thrills with life, and 
 Pygmalion realizes it. His arms are about her, 
 and their lips meet in a long kiss. Pygmalion's 
 attitude, though full of eagerness and joy, is 
 almost awkward ; he thinks of nothing but Gal- 
 atea. In her the new life has barely had time 
 to deliver her from the marble, and the lower 
 half of her figure is still in bonds. But her 
 body from the waist is turned towards him and 
 her lovely head bends to meet his kiss. It is 
 unlike any group I ever saw, and seems to me 
 almost too passionate for cold stone. 
 
 One of the pictures in the Spanish rooms is a 
 warm orchard scene, where the sun and shadow 
 checker the thick grass, and the sky glows deep 
 blue through the leafy branches. On this grass 
 lies a woman, rosy, tanned, brimful of voluptu- 
 ous life and health. Her hands are clasped be- 
 hind her head, and she laughs to herself. Off 
 in the distance a man saunters away ; the smile 
 of the girl and the man's disappearance have 
 an evident connection. The picture is bril- 
 liantly painted, and this touch of ambiguity 
 makes it interesting. 
 
1 1 8 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 Japan has two rooms in this Palace, where 
 are assembled many lovely things. There is a 
 picture made of woven silk, wonderful for its 
 splendid colors and the intricacy of the subject, 
 a long procession of Japanese people in beau- 
 tiful, strange costumes, carrying banners and 
 standards ; they emerge from the background 
 and twine about between temples and trees, and 
 file along the whole length of the foreground. 
 Pinned to this lovely thing and fastened to the 
 railing in front of it, which is made of bamboo, 
 are numerous signs, saying : " Please do not 
 touch;" ''Ladies will kindly not handle;" 
 " This is woven," etc. But out of four women 
 who came in while I was there three took up a 
 corner of the stuff and rubbed it between their 
 fingers. Stra.nge ! 
 
 There are two paintings of the Japanese 
 Sacred Mountain, Fusiyama, one of which is 
 very beautiful. The peak towers up, touched 
 with rosy light, and mist-wrealhs float about its 
 mighty sides. This picture has a soft gray tone. 
 There is another picture of a fish swimming in 
 a stream, which is a masterpiece. A Japanese 
 artist can paint a bird, or the branch of a tree, 
 on a large canvas with scarce any other color 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 1 1 9 
 
 than gray, and yet put in poetry, and thought, 
 and beauty enough to keep one before it for 
 hours. 
 
 They have other things besides paintings. A 
 gorilla carved in wood, some bronzes, vases 
 and embroideries ; and in the gallery there are 
 beautiful screens, and a painting of a spring 
 landscape with five little Japanese maidens, in 
 garments of dainty colors, walking across the 
 canvas ; and much more that is worth seeing 
 and telling about. 
 
 But I feel as though I had been in the Palace 
 of Art long enough. There are other things to 
 do and see elsewhere. Real men and women 
 are to be seen, even more interesting than pic- 
 tures and statues ; for, after all, the most beau- 
 tiful work of art in the world is never anything 
 more than just a work of art. 
 
X. 
 
 Surrounding Horticultural Palace are the 
 greenest and softest lawns to be found in Jack- 
 son Park. Little whirling machines are always 
 sprinkling water over them ; and fat robins 
 hop about and look for worms. Between the 
 front of the Building and North Lagoon is a cir- 
 cular basin filled with water lilies, white and 
 pink, shedding sweet perfume. There are also 
 cactuses, twelve or fifteen feet tall, stiff and 
 awkward as sentinels on parade, with short, 
 stumpy arms and small, pale yellow flowers, 
 star-shaped, which do not at all look as if they 
 belonged to them, but had got stuck on by 
 accident. 
 
 Inside, under the great dome, flowers and 
 plants are gathered in a huge pyramid ; and 
 there are more of them in the two wings. The 
 display is pretty, of course, but it lacks distinc- 
 tion. A century plant was in bloom, palms and 
 ferns were abundant, and there was a good col- 
 lection of orchids from the nursery at Short 
 
 1 20 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 1 2 i 
 
 Hills, N. J. Japan had sent some trees which 
 looked as though hundreds of years had passed 
 away since they were seedhngs, and indeed such 
 may have been the case. Their trunks were 
 seamed and mossy with antiquity, and their 
 gnarled branches covered with dark needles — 
 for these trees are of the cedar family — spread 
 abroad and created a mysterious obscurity. In 
 spite of this semblance of vastness and strength, 
 however, the biggest of them is not above 
 eighteen inches in height, and they grow in 
 white and blue porcelain jars. 
 
 The endless corridors of Horticultural Palace 
 are filled for the most part with specimens of 
 the fruit of different States and from Canada, 
 and with wines, seeds and garden machinery. 
 From Mexico comes a model in silver fihgree 
 of Horticultural Palace itself. Most of the fruit 
 shown is preserved in countless glass jars, but 
 there are also innumerable dishes holding ap- 
 ples and oranges ; pineapples grow in boxes, 
 and a cocoanut palm stands up with an ex- 
 hausted expression, holding aloft a cluster of 
 nuts encased in gourd-like shells. The largest 
 apples and pears are among the preserved 
 fruit, and they are large enough to stay the ap- 
 
122 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 petite even of a small boy. There are also 
 models of fruit in wax, with what purpose ex- 
 hibited here I know not. In some places the 
 oranges are built up into pyramids, obelisks and 
 spheres. The smell of all this is so good that 
 it used to make me hungry, and I rarely left 
 the building without buying an orange or two, 
 or a couple of bananas, from the girl that has 
 wisely set up a stand near one of the exits. 
 
 After I had bought my orange I was not con- 
 strained to seek a secluded place to devour it ; 
 people do as they please at the P^air. Lunches 
 are eaten on the benches in the Grand Court, 
 on the steps of the buildings, on their roofs, in- 
 side them, on Wooded Island — in short, any- 
 where, where you happen to feel hungry, and 
 when you have a basket with lunch in it. When 
 you have finished you may — and generally you 
 do — leave your papers and lunch boxes behind 
 you, to be removed by the night army of wagons 
 provided for that purpose. It is convenient 
 and sensible. 
 
 On the way from Horticultural Palace to the 
 Woman's Building is the Children's Building, a 
 white, square, handsome structure, with decora- 
 tions in blue, and paintings on the walls of 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 123 
 
 children in the costumes of different countries. 
 A big room inside is enclosed with a railing ; it 
 is a sort of gymnasium, where any children who 
 wish it may come and exercise under the guid- 
 ance of a German instructor, free of charge. 
 What fun they do have, with travelling rings, 
 rope ladders, trapezes, wooden "horses," and 
 one another ! The boys and girls go in together, 
 and outside the railing a crowd of spectators — 
 among whom are the mothers, sisters, fathers 
 and aunts of the Httle performers — stand and 
 admire. A glass partition separates this room 
 from a smaller one, where dozens of babies sit 
 or toddle, playing with toys or investigating 
 their own toes with meditative particularity. 
 Mothers can leave their children here while 
 they toil through the Fair, sure that good care 
 will be taken of them. There is always a crowd 
 of people looking through the glass partition. 
 Delighted smiles broaden their faces, while they 
 emit such exclamations as : " Isn't that a little 
 beauty!" " Look at her cunning feet ! " "What 
 lovely curly hair ! " ''How I should like to buy 
 that little critter ! " There are other things be- 
 sides children and their subjects in this Build- 
 ing — dolls, manuscript stories, and even a statue 
 
1 ^4 1^)^^ Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 or two, and other works of art ; but nothing can 
 compete with the babies, and people seldom 
 look at anything else. 
 
 The Woman's Building, from an architect- 
 ural point of view, is unobjectionable, but not 
 impressive. It is a white oblong, with columned 
 verandas, front and back, and a parapet above 
 surmounted with winged figures. Broad flights 
 of steps approach it on all sides. They are a . 
 favorite camping-ground for visitors. Within, 
 the main hall is hung with pictures, and there 
 are rows of glazed cases, containing embroid- 
 eries, laces, hand-painted fans and women's 
 work of all sorts. On the west side are speci- 
 mens of the manuscripts of George EHot, Char- 
 lotte Bronte, Jane Austen and other eminent 
 women writers ; and there is a collection of 
 drawings and engravings. As for the paint- 
 ings, the most that can be said of them is that 
 they are fair. In the centre of the hall is a 
 fountain, and round it are four statues. One of 
 them, an erect, nude figure, in the simplest pos- 
 sible pose, is pretty and effective. 
 
 Adjoining the main hall are rooms contain- 
 ing the exhibits of Japan. England and other 
 countries. There is a group of patents, and a 
 
5 
 3 
 
 CO 
 
 O 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 125 
 
 good deal of space is given to Mrs. French- 
 Sheldon's Loan Exhibit. This is very interest- 
 ing ; it comprises all sorts of things that she 
 brought from Africa, and many photographs of 
 African scenes and people. There are orna- 
 ments, arms and head-dresses, given to her by 
 various chiefs ; strings of beads of an oval shape 
 and an inch in length, of different colors, used 
 by the natives as money ; five of them will buy 
 a woman, but it takes ten to buy a cow ; odd 
 instruments for the purpose of stretching ears, 
 of graduated sizes, larger ones being put in as 
 the ear expands; Mrs. Sheldon's receiving-robe, 
 gorgeous but not beautiful, which must have 
 dazzled the natives ; her ceremonial wig, made 
 of innumerable long, fair curls, the sight of 
 which doubtless put all the native kings and 
 queens on their mettle to find something to 
 rival it withal ; and to make an end of the cata- 
 logue, a photograph of a stern but beautiful girl, 
 the Queen of the Semali, who, though she is 
 half naked and dark-skinned — not black — is 
 every inch a queen, and, judging from her as- 
 pect, a queen not to be trifled with. 
 
 Adjoining this exhibit is some of the work 
 of our own and the Mexican Indians. Here 
 
126 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 I saw several of the famous Navajo blank- 
 ets, beautiful in texture and color, and war- 
 ranted to wear a hundred years. There is 
 Mexican pottery — bowls and jars, decorated 
 with broad black lines ; and on the wall hangs 
 a large photograph of a Navajo squaw, with 
 clear-cut, handsome features and a noble ex- 
 pression. 
 
 The Japanese exhibit consists of two fur- 
 nished rooms — the boudoir of a Japanese lady, 
 and her sitting-room. In the boudoir is a soft, 
 square mat to sit upon, and small, square 
 tables six inches high, supporting tiny jars con- 
 taining paints and creams, and mirrors and 
 other dainty toilette articles. Hung on a sort 
 of clothes-horse are dresses of satin and soft 
 silk, heavily embroidered. I once met two 
 httle Japanese women in the California Build- 
 ing, toddling along on their high clogs, with 
 their hair piled high on their heads and stuck 
 all through with long butterfly pins, and wear- 
 ing clothes just like these. 
 
 Two cobras, carved out of wood, are in the 
 Ceylonese booth, painted to the life ; they are 
 coiled, their heads poised and necks puffed out 
 — perilous-looking creatures ! Throngs of peo- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 127 
 
 pie get tea here, and ask questions of the pretty 
 little Zinghalese women. In charge of the 
 Syrian exhibit is a native woman, with dark 
 hair and big eyes. I overheard her saying to 
 an American girl that she was going to resign 
 her position in a few days. " One — two days 
 — then I go," she said. "Men," she contin- 
 ued, "ask me many silly questions. It far 
 better that girls and men not mix — like in my 
 country. Here, bad ; spoil girls ; you think so, 
 too?" 
 
 " No ! " answered the fair American, in decis- 
 ive tones. 
 
 The Syrian shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 Besides the East Indian Embroideries in the 
 Main Hall sits a Hindu. He is small and 
 slender, with a dark, sad face ; he wears a 
 small white turban, and a long, dark robe, with 
 an embroidered undervest. One of the scarlet- 
 uniformed catalogue boys with astonishing pro- 
 fessional voices began a conversation with him 
 one day, while I was near. The Hindu, point- 
 ing to a picture on the wall of Christ pardon- 
 ing the sinner, asked what it was. The boy, 
 in an awed tone, told him ; and, after a pause, 
 asked with some anxiety : 
 
128 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 "You .... you know who Christ is, don't 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh, yes !" said the Hindu, in his soft voice. 
 
 Another pause ; then — 
 
 "You aren't — your people aren't, I mean — 
 aren't Christians, are they ?" ventured the boy, 
 in a casual tone, but watching the Oriental 
 with manifest solicitude. 
 
 "Perhaps!" answered the latter, turning 
 away. 
 
 The boy lounged off, still regarding the 
 Hindu with a covert air of mingled alarm 
 and compassion. But presently I heard him 
 calling out, "Catalogues! Catalogues here! 
 Ten cents!" in his accustomed professional 
 tone. He was a small, thin boy. 
 
 The Roof-garden Cafe of this Building is 
 very popular, for the air up there is cool and 
 pleasant, prices are reasonable and the service 
 is quick and good. From twelve o'clock till 
 three every day a column, three abreast and of 
 indefinite length, forms on the staircase before 
 the doors, and moves forward by short jerks, 
 as the leaders are admitted successively. When 
 you are once up, it is a nice place, not only to 
 eat in, but to rest and read the Daily Cohivi- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 129 
 
 Man, and collect one's thoughts. There is also 
 a fine view. To the east is the lake, and the 
 chief buildings, including the Government's, 
 where, if it be near noon, you may see the 
 time-ball drop from the top to the base of the 
 staff on the dome. People are always on the 
 look-out for it, with their timepieces open in 
 their hands. By the expression of their faces 
 when the great moment arrives, you can tell 
 how near correct their watches are. Those 
 who are right to the second pocket their watches 
 with a complacent smile. The others look 
 annoyed, surprised or indignant, and mumble 
 some remark about ** city time's probably a 
 little fast" or "slow," as the case may be. 
 
 Close at hand, on the southeast, is a little 
 white edifice whose railed-in roof resembles the 
 deck of a ship, and whose windows are port- 
 holes. The ornament of its frieze is white 
 stars, and upon its walls are writ the names of 
 steamers. It is, in fact, the House of the White 
 Star Line, and inside are models of their finest 
 ships ; and from its main room open cabins, 
 facsimiles of those in the real vessels. Close 
 to this pretty building stands that of Puck, 
 tinted delicate yellow, with twisted columns 
 
1 30 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 surrounding it, like sticks of barley-sugar 
 candy ; it is further decorated with painted 
 wreaths and pale green ribbons. A statue of 
 Puck himself, just like the portrait on the cover 
 of the paper, presides over the building. 
 
 Looking directly west, I saw a throng of peo- 
 ple pushing and josthng one another, most of 
 them having their backs turned toward me. 
 They were streaming under a railway bridge 
 which spans a broad walk extending in the 
 direction of the Pacific Ocean, but seeming to 
 stop at the Ferris Wheel. A placard on the 
 bridge informed me that this walk was the 
 famous Midway Plaisance, which I already 
 knew. 
 
 The walk is thirty or forty yards wide, and 
 is lined on either side with buildings of the 
 most varied design and size. On the left, near 
 the entrance, is an old gray castle surrounded 
 by thatched roofs ; this is the Irish Village, and 
 in the castle is a piece of the real Blarney 
 Stone. Beyond, on both sides, is a medley of 
 towers, gables and domes ; and the thorough- 
 fare between them seems solid with a dark 
 mass of people carrying sun umbrellas, re- 
 lieved here and there with a white burnous, a 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 1 3 1 
 
 red or a purple caftan, a turban or a fez. The 
 place looks as if it would improve on a nearer 
 acquaintance. So I got up and left the roof of 
 the Woman's Building, ran down-stairs, and, 
 without hesitating a moment, saUied forth by 
 the western entrance. The next moment I was 
 in the midst of the crowd, and, with them 
 pressing "westward — ho!" into the Midway 
 Plaisance. 
 
XI. 
 
 In the old Arabian Tales, Princes and others 
 would occasionally get possession of a certain 
 wonderful carpet, which had the power of in- 
 stantly transporting them to any part of the 
 world they might wish to visit. 
 
 Did these fortunate individuals and their 
 carpet exist to-day, all they need do would be 
 to soar over the head of the gateman at the 
 turnstiles and come down in Midway Plaisance, 
 for here all the world meets and looks at itself. 
 It finds itself to be a very nice world, with many 
 strange and new — or so old that they appear 
 new — things in it. It has never seen itself all 
 in one place before, and the experience is pleas- 
 ant and exciting. 
 
 Before entering any of the villages, buildings 
 or " streets " that border on the great thorough- 
 fare, it is well to walk up and down its length 
 a few times and get the bearings. I found 
 enough in that walk to occupy me for some 
 time. 
 
 132 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 133 
 
 The Turkish sedan-chairs are much used by 
 visitors. They resemble the EngHsh seven- 
 teenth century ones in general shape, but are 
 less elaborate in decoration, being of sombre 
 color and usually lined inside with red. The 
 poles on which they are swung are harnessed 
 to the shoulders of the carriers — two sullen- 
 looking Turks — who steady the motion with 
 their hands. These men are dressed in dark 
 brown pegtop trousers, wide at the hips and 
 close at the ankles ; a short jacket of the same 
 coarse material, ornamented with braid and 
 furnished with a hood, which can be pulled 
 over the head when it rains. Meanwhile, they 
 wear the invariable red fez, with its long black 
 tassel. A shirt open at the throat and a broad 
 sash complete the costume ; or if the day is very 
 hot they omit the jacket and put on baggy, 
 white Turkish drawers ; on their feet are heavy, 
 clumsy, red or yellow slippers. 
 
 A couple of these chairs come up behind me, 
 the leading carrier grunts a warning in a mixture 
 of Turkish and Enghsh, and I step aside to 
 make room. In the first is a fat man, mopping 
 his face with a brilliant bandanna, and grinning 
 broadly ; in the second is a woman of fair pro- 
 
134 1^^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 portions and a small child ; the woman gazes 
 straight ahead with an expression of determined 
 dignity. The carriers jog along with their pecu- 
 liar trot, neither a walk nor a run, never keep- 
 ing step, and dripping with perspiration. They 
 look cross and tired ; but that is their normal 
 aspect, even when seated, half asleep in their 
 own chairs awaiting customers. They are a 
 bad-looking set, those Turks, as insensible to 
 the quality of mercy as Shylock was supposed 
 to be. 
 
 Their proficiency in English is limited. Two 
 ladies came out of the Java village as I was 
 going by and got into two chairs. They wanted 
 to go somewhere, but could not make the Turks 
 understand where. The Turks would appear 
 to understand, slip the straps over the handles, 
 lift the chairs and set out, whereupon the women 
 would scream and shake their heads, and enter 
 into renewed explanations. After this had been 
 repeated several times the carriers with one ac- 
 cord seated themselves on the long handles of 
 the vehicles, leaned their heads on their hands 
 and contemplated nature, and in this posture I 
 left them. 
 
 Again, a man wanted to be taken to Daho- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 1 3 5 
 
 mey, but knew not where it was. He tried to 
 make his carriers understand what he wanted, 
 and at length a gleam of intelligence irradiated 
 the countenance of one of them. He swept his 
 arm over his face and chest, saying : "All dark, 
 no clothes ! " and off they went to Africa. 
 
 Here come four or five Arabs, striding along 
 with their proud step, their white burnouses 
 floating out behind them, revealing the scarlet 
 caftans belted at the waist and the sashes full 
 of knives and scimitars ; wrinkled red Morocco 
 boots are on their feet, and on either side of 
 their swarthy visages hang the straight white 
 folds of their head-dress. I think their costume 
 is perhaps the most beautiful of the many to be 
 seen on the Plaisance ; but the point is as hard 
 to settle as that of the favorite book or picture. 
 
 Noticing a little circular crowd in the midst 
 of the walk, I added myself to it, and presently 
 found that the centre of attraction was a little 
 Javanese. When I had become familiar with 
 the ways of the Plaisance, I learned by expe- 
 rience that this almost always turns out to be 
 the case ; the exception being one of the funny 
 little Oriental children appertaining to one or 
 other of the Eastern communities. 
 
1 36 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 I saunter on. 
 
 On my right, behind a wattled cane fence, is 
 a large village of delicious little houses made of 
 mats, in pretty reds, browns and yellows, or just 
 plain bamboo color. They are thatched with 
 dark leaves; from the gable ends project long, 
 slender, up-curving rods ; each house has its 
 httle veranda in front. This is Java — a fasci- 
 nating place. 
 
 To the left, just opposite, is a low, white build- 
 ing, with the inscription across its front, " South 
 Sea Island Theatre." Oil portraits of three or 
 four of the natives ornament the fafade, and 
 from the open door issues the music of soft, 
 wild voices and of rhythmically clapping hands. 
 In the enclosure west of the theatre are three 
 or four circular huts, with thatched roofs rising 
 to a point ; their sides four feet upwards from 
 the ground consist of suspended mats, which 
 can be rolled up at pleasure. These round 
 dwelHngs are made entirely of the wood of the 
 bread-fruit tree, the only wood which the white 
 ant will not destroy. No nails are used, but 
 the fastenings are of fibre. Within mats hang 
 on cross-pieces six feet from the floor, to be 
 thrown down when visitors enter, for seats. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 137 
 
 Alongside the theatre lies a long canoe, made 
 of Ifilili wood, its high, sharp prow decorated 
 with an inlaying of cowry shells, 
 
 After passing Java restaurant (so called be- 
 cause it faces Java village) I saw the peaked 
 gables of Germany rising over their high wall. 
 Above the gateway is inscribed in old German 
 characters the words Deutsches Dorf. A 
 blare of military music resounds from within, 
 and the clink of beer mugs, and as the music 
 expires with a crash I hear the chorus of 
 *'Bravos" and the hand-clapping; the Ger- 
 mans are having a good time. While this 
 uproar is still ringing in my right ear, my left 
 is assailed by a peculiar quick drumming, 
 mingling with the monotonous piping of 
 wooden pipes in the minor key. In a kiosk on 
 the other side of the way are seated half a 
 dozen Turks, in the costumes of their country, 
 and one is walking about clad in a garment of 
 sheep's-skin, very thick and stiff, with a large, 
 pointed hood, and a sort of sheath in which to 
 put his stout staff or crook — for he is a shep- 
 herd from the Balkans. Short is he, and 
 swarthy, with a discontented expression, which 
 may be the result of his unseasonable garment 
 
138 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 — though I suspect it is due to an intense de- 
 sire, violently repressed by circumstances, to 
 murder the Clergyman ! 
 
 Who is the Clergyman ? It is by that title 
 that my companion and I privately agreed to 
 mean the tall, meagre, close-shaven American 
 whose business it is to descant on the educa- 
 tional features presented by the Turkish Thea- 
 tre behind the kiosk. This gentleman wears 
 short English whiskers in front of his ears, has 
 a large aquiline nose, and thin, low eyebrows. 
 There is about him an infuriating suggestion of 
 saintliness. He is the ideal of a divine fallen 
 from his pulpit estate ; his nasal twang, his 
 angular gestures, his gloomily compassionate 
 expression — all. At the beginning of the sea- 
 son he wore black clerical garments and a 
 black silk hat ; but later — as a penance, per- 
 haps — he arrayed himself in a tweed suit, with 
 a white tourist's helmet and drab gaiters. 
 
 Near him sits one of the Turks, in a short, 
 red embroidered jacket, baggy white trousers 
 to the knee, slippers much curled up at the 
 toes, embroidered stockings, the inevitable sash 
 round his waist, and a small white turban on 
 his head. The music strikes up with fresh 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 1 39 
 
 vigor. It proceeds from two instruments, a 
 long wooden pipe and a peculiar drum. This 
 drum is made of earthenware, in the shape of 
 a demijohn, with a thick neck and a wide 
 mouth, over which is stretched a piece of 
 parchment ; it is held under one arm and 
 thumped with the fingers of the other hand, 
 with graceful movements of the wrist. As the 
 sound begins, the white-trousered and embroid- 
 ered Turk arises. In his hands he balances a 
 pole, and hops from one foot to the other on 
 the small platform, grinning the while an im- 
 movable and glassy grin. The Clergyman 
 ever and anon claps his hands in a would-be 
 bUthesome manner, and says " Hah !" After 
 awhile the music and dance stop, and he turns 
 to the crowd which has gathered in front of the 
 kiosk, clears his throat, and begins : — 
 
 ** Ladies and gentlemen : I have made this 
 Httle speech of mine to probably five hundred 
 thousand people, in the course of this season, 
 who have stood where you are standing now. 
 Not all, but many of them, have afterwards en- 
 tered our theatre, and have been well repaid 
 for the trifling expense involved in doing so — 
 twenty-five cents or fifty, according to the loca- 
 
I40 
 
 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 tion of the seats they occupy." He goes on to 
 describe the several Turks on the platform, 
 and, coming to the dancer: *'You have heard 
 the Turks characterized as a grave people, to 
 whom laughter and fun are distasteful. This is 
 not the whole truth, however. This man whose 
 dancing you have just witnessed is El Howsi, 
 the Funny Man of Turkey. He is regarded 
 by the Princes and Lords whose houses he 
 visits in his native land, as being all that is 
 witty, ^//that is humorous . . . . " 
 I pass on. 
 
 More drumming. Before the door of the 
 Bedouin encampment sits a dark, handsome 
 
 woman, with 
 flashing eyes 
 and teeth, and 
 dressed in flow- 
 ing robes of rich 
 hues ; chains of 
 sequins hang on 
 both sides of her 
 face, flashing, 
 too, with her 
 every move- 
 ments She plays 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 141 
 
 on the graceful hand drum with a lovely motion 
 of the wrists, while a tall Bedouin leans against 
 the doorway, his keen eyes roving over the 
 crowded Midway. 
 
 A few steps beyond is a blue-and-brown 
 striped building, perfectly square, with a wide, 
 arched entrance, and a flight of steps slanting 
 across the front to the second story. On the 
 threshold is seated a grave young Arab in a 
 voluminous purple caftan with flowing sleeves, 
 and beside him jumps about a boyish Albanian, 
 bubbling over with life and jollity ; he wears 
 the short, full white skirt, red and gold jacket, 
 red sash and red embroidered gaiters from be- 
 low the knee to the ankle, which constitute the 
 costume of his country ; Turkish shoes are on 
 his feet, and his duty is to "whoop in" the 
 drifting crowds. 
 
 His serious companion, in a tone in which 
 the effort to be alluring seems to struggle with 
 a profound constitutional pessimism reflected 
 on his handsome features, informs us that 
 there is dancing up-stairs ; that you can obtain 
 there, free of charge, Turkish coffee or refresh- 
 ments, and that the performance has just be- 
 gun. This said, he relapses into brooding 
 
142 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 melancholy, gathering his robe about him, 
 crossing his legs, and applying to his lips the 
 amber mouthpiece of the nargileh beside his 
 chair. 
 
 Now, it is the Albanian's turn ! He comes for- 
 ward, dancing all over to the tune played by 
 the rival house, next his own establishment. 
 He is a powerful, broad-shouldered, ruddy- 
 visaged little fellow, smiling with a broad, con- 
 tagious smile, and sending forth his lusty voice 
 to the top of its compass. "Come !" he cries, 
 appealing to the world at large with out- 
 stretched arms, " Come ! ! Fine fun up-stairs ! 
 Turkish fun up-stairs ! ! Come — everybody 
 come ! Wel-come !" He beams upon the respon- 
 sively smiling crowd, and claps his hands enthu- 
 siastically. The music of the neighboring Bed- 
 ouins swells out. He looks contemptuously 
 in that direction, and, with a comprehensive 
 sweep of both arms — ''They all, fifty cents! 
 We, twenty-five cents ! ! Cheap ! Cheap ! ! 
 Cheap!!!'* He spins round till his white 
 skirt stands straight out, and the long outer 
 sleeves of his jacket wave streamer-like. * 'Grand 
 times — fine times — everybody welcome !" He 
 tosses his arms wide open : " Come ! Stay ! ! ! — 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 143 
 
 and disappears with a last swirl of the petti- 
 coat. Nothing could be more nearly irresist- 
 ible. 
 
 I find strength to resist him for the present, 
 however, and continue my course westward, 
 past the great Turkish bazar, in the square, in 
 front of which is the encampment of Sedan- 
 chairs, with their bearers lounging amidst them, 
 and smoking cigarettes or drinking beer, or, 
 more often, some bright-colored Oriental bev- 
 erage, very sweet, flavored with roses or 
 orange-flowers. These, together with fruit and 
 ice cream, are sold in the square pavilion 
 tended by two Turks, and a pretty Turkish 
 girl, whose black eyes are additionally dark- 
 ened with kohl. One of the Turks is forever 
 making a sort of thin cakes, something like 
 sweet waffles, over a little fire ; never ceasing, 
 meanwhile, to call out to all and sundry, " Zal- 
 abiah ! Turkish Zalabiah ! hot — hot — hot !" 
 
 Passing the white mosque at the upper cor- 
 ner of the square, with its sharp-pointed mina- 
 ret — half-way up which is the little gallery from 
 which the muezzin calls at his appointed hours 
 — I find myself under the shadow of a bridge, 
 where a couple of Moors are peering into the 
 II 
 
144 1^^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 nickel-in-the-slot machine, called The Great- 
 est Electrical Marvel of the Age. To its front 
 is affixed a photograph of two dancing girls ; 
 and when I, in my turn, dropped in my nickel, 
 I saw these same girls through an aperture at 
 the side, perform, amidst much whirring of ma- 
 chinery, a series of jerky leg-and-arm wavings. 
 Emerging from beneath the bridge, I see at 
 my left a pretty, tree-begrown German beer- 
 garden, with people seated at the tables thickly 
 distributed under the shade of the branches. 
 They have before them mugs of beer and 
 pieces of sausage and brown bread, and most 
 of them, are talking German. On my right is a 
 high, yellowish wall with a wide wooden door- 
 way, partly open, in this end of it, through 
 which a stream of people is constantly flowing, 
 after having bought tickets at a square window 
 on the right of the doorway, or at a striped 
 sentry-box on the left. This is the entrance of 
 Cairo Street. The high wall consists in part of 
 the backs of flat-roofed buildings with small 
 windows in the upper story made of carved 
 wood. These stand open, and a few caftaned 
 and turbaned men lean out of them, smoking 
 cigarettes and chatting with one another. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 145 
 
 All at once, the wooden gates below are 
 flung wide, and four men in long blue caftans 
 and turbans, made by twisting a long strip of 
 immaculately white cotton round the ordinary 
 red fez, sally forth. Each has a musical in- 
 strument, and all combine in a shrill, wild pip- 
 ing. Following them appears a camel in red 
 trappings, befringed and ornamented with em- 
 broidery of cowry-shells, while bells tinkle 
 round his neck. Mounted on this stately beast 
 is another blue-robed Oriental, beating a couple 
 of brass-mounted drums slung before him on 
 either side of the saddle. He holds the drum- 
 sticks by the thick ends, but makes plenty of 
 noise nevertheless. After remaining pictures- 
 quely grouped for a few minutes, the procession 
 moves onward beside the wall, and out of my 
 sight, though the wailing and rattling music 
 still fills my ears and vibrates in my breast. 
 
 I hesitate, almost minded to enter that be- 
 witching Street of Cairo. But right before me 
 and above me is the Big Wheel, revolving 
 slowly, and I ke.ep on. To the left is the 
 Moorish Palace, an enormous yellow-brown 
 structure, many-windowed, and with a pillared 
 .doorway ; the walls covered with announce- 
 
146 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 ments of the wondrous sights on view within. 
 It is not, however, a genuine Moorish building, 
 but an American conglomeration. The prettiest 
 thing about it is the great blue dome, netted 
 with golden bands ; that is indeed lovely, 
 whether the background be sun, moon, clouds 
 or blue sky. 
 
 On the opposite side of the way is the Per- 
 sian Palace, red and blue, with queer-shaped 
 windows of stained glass, and two tall minarets 
 decorated with twisting lines of the same rather 
 harsh colors. It has two entrances, side by 
 side ; one to the arena, where the Zhorkana or 
 Persian wrestlers perform ; the other opening 
 widely into the main part, where very sweet 
 candy is for sale and native workers in brass 
 and jewelry ply their trade. 
 
 From an up-stairs window leans a girl with 
 bare arms and throat, and fair hair floating over 
 her shoulders ; she shakes a tambourine and 
 glances roguishly at the pausing crowd. Many 
 necklaces encircle her throat, and on her arm 
 are jingling bracelets. I catch a glimpse, too, 
 of an embroidered jacket and silken draperies. 
 On the steps of the main entrance stands a man 
 informing those who Ust that there is Circassian 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 147 
 
 dancing up-stairs by the prettiest girls on the 
 Plaisance, and that if any one wishes to be 
 happy before dying now is his opportunity. 
 
 Before the other entrance sit playing the 
 hand-drum a couple of the wrestlers, in deep 
 purple caftans, girdled about the waist, em- 
 broidered vests showing through the V-shaped 
 opening at the throat and wearing compact tur- 
 bans or the tall, black Persian cap. They 
 are powerful, fine-looking men, with mighty 
 shoulders. 
 
 The girl disappears from the window and the 
 crowd moves on, I with it. I pass a small 
 building, before which a man is saying some- 
 thing about the smallest electric light ever 
 made, and assuring us that the model of the 
 Eiffel Tower inside "ain't a panorama, nor it 
 ain't a picture." I am now directly under the 
 Ferris Wheel. What a tremendous thing it is ! 
 It seems to be descending from the sky, and 
 the great supports on either side of it have the 
 appearance of binding it to the earth rather 
 than of upholding it. Slowly and noiselessly 
 it swings round in the air, pausing now and 
 again to take on or let off passengers. From 
 the window of a car highest on the circle flut- 
 
148 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 ters a tiny white speck — a handkerchief. And 
 see — some one in the throng below waves back. 
 It is an old lady in a black silk dress and plaid 
 shawl, a look of mingled anxiety and pride on 
 her wrinkled countenance. She evidently fears 
 that the intrepid friend or relative up aloft there 
 is liable not to get back alive, but she cannot 
 help being proud of his courage. 
 
 Beyond the Wheel is the Algerian Village, a 
 half circle of booths protected from the sun by 
 striped awnings and filled with delightful mer- 
 chandise. There is also a bazar, a square 
 white building decorated with tiles, and with a 
 splendid arched entrance. On the steps two 
 little children in vvhite short-sleeved garments 
 are eating apples and playing a game with peb- 
 bles ; they are beautiful little creatures, with 
 clear olive complexions, dark eyes and curling 
 hair. This bazar is at one end of the semi- 
 circle ; at the other end is a similar building, 
 used as a cafe-chantant. In the centre of the 
 sweep is a theatre, square too, with three domes. 
 Like all the Algerian houses it is white, and 
 tiles surround the narrow arched windows, form 
 two bands across the front, and decorate the 
 pillars of the porch. These tiles are chiefly green 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 149 
 
 and blue, in a pretty conventional pattern, and 
 have a fine effect against the smooth white walls. 
 The space from the Plaisance thoroughfare to 
 the porch is covered with a broad awning. Two 
 Arabs pace up and down behind the slender 
 pillars of the porch, carrying long muskets 
 richly inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and scimitars 
 on their thighs. By the fountain in the centre 
 of the court sit two huge Numidians, black as 
 jet, wrapped in the snowy burnous of the Arab. 
 At the booth close beside me stands a short, 
 thick-set man, with the grizzly bristles of a 
 week-old beard on his broad cheeks, a white 
 cloak reaching to the ground on his shoulders, 
 and on his head an enormous straw hat, with a 
 row of tassels round the brim. He is trying 
 to sell to a hesitatipg young American woman 
 a blue enameled bracelet, very delicate and 
 pretty, and he has exhausted every laudatory 
 adjective that the French and English languages 
 afford over the effect it produces when clasped 
 on her wrist. The price is two dollars. " Ye-es," 
 she says, "it's quite pretty; but I think I like 
 //^/5 better." " This " is not another bracelet, 
 but a glass paper-weight, undisguisedly Ameri- 
 can, containing a view of the United States 
 
150 TJie Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 Government Building in impossibly brilliant 
 colors. It is very large and terrible, and costs 
 about as much as the exquisite bracelet. But 
 that young woman buys the block of glass and 
 retires rejoicing, while the big Algerian shrugs 
 his shoulders, hangs up the bracelet, and ex- 
 changes a few remarks with the man beside 
 him ; the tone, if not the words, being perfectly 
 intelligible to me. 
 
 Passing Algiers I come to Old Vienna, the 
 gabled roofs of which, looking down on the 
 road, are as quaint as the pictures in an old 
 German fairy-book. At the entrance stands a 
 stout man in the costume of a German sene- 
 schal of the Middle Ages, leaning on his hal- 
 berd. From within sound forth the strains of 
 a well-played waltz. 
 
 Just beyond Old Vienna is a high fence, 
 strongly made of posts covered with rough 
 bark, and furnished with a narrow promenade 
 on the top. Prancing up and down there is 
 something that resembles a man. Yes, it 
 really is a man, wearing a hideous black mask, 
 and a very short and thick grass petticoat, 
 from beneath which appear a pair of cotton 
 drawers, green and yellow. The upper part 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 1 5 i 
 
 of him is rattling with necklaces and armlets 
 of shells and beads. He skips along the 
 fence, stops and shakes himself up and down 
 in an absurd way, and at last disappears 
 through a hole, evidently having difficulty with 
 his petticoat. He is the Medicine Man of the 
 Dahomey Village. 
 
 Opposite is the Captive Balloon and Park ; 
 and high overhead floats the great globe, small 
 black heads projecting over the edge of the 
 basket. Waving handkerchiefs make white 
 specks against the dark, burnished sides of the 
 bag. 
 
 But the sun is getting low, and if I want to 
 hear the muezzin call I must return at once, 
 paying no attention to the yelling man in front 
 of the Ostrich Farm, or to him who says I 
 should not miss this chance to see the Red 
 Man in his paint and war-dance. As I retrace 
 my steps I feel that I am myself a part of Mid- 
 way now ; and I shall be ready, after the 
 muezzin has called, to begin a more intimate 
 acquaintance with it. 
 
XH. 
 
 There are two minarets in the Plaisance, 
 and two muezzins. The Cairo Street minaret 
 is the taller and the more beautiful, and there- 
 fore its muezzin is the better worth hearing. 
 Besides, Cairo Street is one of the two places 
 that I visit every day — and sometimes twice a 
 day — no matter what else I leave unseen ; the 
 other being the South Sea Island Theatre. I 
 will go to Cairo Street now. 
 
 Once within its massive, iron-hinged oaken 
 doors, and my ticket surrendered to the tall 
 young Moor in white sitting just inside, I am 
 in another world. Chicago, with its many- 
 storied buildings, its roaring streets, its whirring 
 cable cars — can there be such a place within 
 less than ten miles of me ? Does it exist at 
 all ? For me, at any rate, it exists no longer. 
 The memory of it fades out of my mind, and 
 is gone. I am in ancient Egypt, and I listen 
 to catch the whisper of the Nile mingling with 
 the rippling tongue of the Arabs that sounds 
 
 152 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 153 
 
 on every side of me, and with the piping and 
 drumming of the musicians, and the strange 
 grunting of the camels, and the pattering of 
 the donkeys' hoofs on the brick pavement. 
 
 The Street extends northward a httle way 
 from the entrance, to the East Square, where 
 the camels kneel on mats, with their sneering 
 countenances uplifted high in the air, and their 
 pointed hocks projecting ridiculously behind. 
 There are six of them, and about twice as 
 many small gray donkeys, clean-limbed and 
 preternaturally long-eared. Necklaces of brass 
 and blue beads ornament the necks of these 
 little creatures, and round the huge red pom- 
 mels of their saddles a broad strap passes, and 
 is carried under their tails, as if to keep their 
 hind legs from running away. 
 
 From the Square the Street trends, with 
 many a pause and twist, westward, debouching 
 at length into another Square, bounded by the 
 Temple of Luxor, and sundry huts and tents. 
 The predominating color of the houses here in 
 Cairo is a light, sunny buff, variegated with 
 horizontal stripes of pale pink or soft brown on 
 the lower stories, and with suggestions here and 
 there of blue. The upper stories project, and 
 
154 '^^^^ Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 are enriched with windows of Meshrebie — 
 carved wood, dark with the darkness of past 
 ages ; for some of these panels are centuries 
 old, and have been bodily brought thither from 
 real Cairo. Most of the windows project, in 
 their turn, beyond the structural projections of 
 the houses ; but some are flush with the wall. 
 Inserted in them are small casements that 
 swing open, and shut again unless held. Little 
 projections also jut forth, in which are placed 
 porous jars of water, to be cooled by evapora- 
 tion. 
 
 On the east side of the East Square is a cafe, 
 raised a few feet above the level of the pave- 
 ment, and made attractive by its Moorish 
 arches and Oriental lattice-work. Here I liked 
 to sit and look westward across the Square and 
 down the crooked street. I could see more of 
 the fascinating spectacle from here than from 
 any other spot. 
 
 Close in front of me is the Mosque, lighter 
 in hue than the other buildings, and banded all 
 the way up with broad pink stripes. The two 
 big windows of the ground floor are grated, and 
 have wide sills, on which people sit to watch 
 the camel riding, and the daily Wedding Pro- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 155 
 
 cession. A slender pillar divides each of the 
 upper windows in the centre, making two 
 graceful arches of each. The lower halves of 
 them are latticed. From the level of the roof 
 upward rises the minaret, beautiful beyond de- 
 scription. It is a copy of the most celebrated 
 minaret in Cairo, so they say, and well do I 
 believe it ! For surely nothing could be love- 
 lier than that fretted and columned tower, with 
 its triple, graduated balconies, and its slender 
 arched windows and apertures. The airy, 
 rounded crown of it is surmounted by a cres- 
 cent, whose points just meet ; and the soft col- 
 oring of white and pink give the finishing touch 
 to its ethereal beauty. The original stands on 
 the Mosque of Abou-Bake-Mazhar — some dark 
 Oriental who died many a year since on the 
 banks of the mysterious Nile. Blessed be his 
 name ! 
 
 On a corner of the Street further down is a 
 pavilion known as the Sebil of Abdarrad an 
 Khat Hoadi. Two large grated windows pierce 
 the lower story, and above is an arched loggia, 
 delicately arabesqued. An array of rainbow- 
 hued Oriental drinks stands on the ledge of one 
 of the lower windows, and against the wall 
 
156 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 leans smoking a young Turk in a silk-striped 
 caftan, ready to succor thirsty wayfarers. The 
 other window-ledge is at this moment occupied 
 by two Nubians, one in flowing white and 
 scarlet fez, the other turbaned and in blue. 
 
 Adjoining the Sebil, on the right, is the 
 theatre, where the Nautch girls dance. On the 
 left, the narrow Street twists out of sight, lined 
 with booths — square openings in the wall, with 
 a doorway on the right, and a counter occupy- 
 ing the rest of the front. Behind this counter — 
 which is heaped with lovely pierced and chased 
 brass work, or with caftans, turbans, and rare 
 embroideries, or with red and yellow slippers 
 with up-curled toes (that passing donkey-boy 
 has a pair of them on his brown feet)— sits the 
 lord and owner, smoking his hookah cross- 
 legged ; or, perhaps, like yonder bamboo pipe- 
 maker, at work on articles which, when fin- 
 ished, are added to the picturesque heap on the 
 loaded counter, or are piled up on the floor. 
 
 This Street is not only one of the most fasci- 
 nating, but also the jolliest place on the Plai- 
 sance. Here come, full tilt, two men astride a 
 couple of tiny donkeys, the grinning donkey- 
 boys following hard behind, shouting, " Look 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 1 5 7 
 
 owet ! Look ow-^W' to the laughing and 
 cheering crowd. But the best fun is in the 
 East Square. There is always a throng there 
 to see the camels getting up and kneeling down 
 with riders on their backs. When some timid 
 neophyte clings desperately to the so-called 
 saddle, and bounces back and forth at each 
 lurch, with half-suppressed shrieks, or begs : 
 "Take me off at once — take me off— take me 
 . . . . " in a rapidly crescendo key, this 
 crowd of on-lookers roars with delight. There 
 is, by the way, a marked difference between 
 the camel-drivers and the donkey-boys, though 
 both wear blue or black caftans and white tur- 
 bans. The camel-drivers are gloomy and taci- 
 turn, and say " Look owet !" in a curt, surly 
 tone. On one of them we have bestowed the 
 title of The Evil Camel-Driver. Secret and 
 Mephistophelian is his delight in any mishap 
 to his rider. He is short and wide, and his 
 caftan cannot have been washed since the time 
 of the Pharaohs. A piece of rope serves him 
 for a sash, and even his turban is the worse for 
 wear. As for shoes, he wears none at all. 
 When a customer approaches his kneeling 
 beast, he scans him or her for symptoms of 
 
158 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 timidity. Should he discover any, a gleam of 
 evil triumph flashes across his features. His 
 victim mounted, he, in the preoccupation of 
 making change, quite forgets to warn her (for 
 of course the women only are afraid) to lean 
 first backwards and then forwards. When the 
 lurch comes, therefore, the rider is usually 
 caught in a cramped-up attitude, relaxed in 
 body and distraught in mind. As the camel 
 hoists himself on his hind legs, flop she goes 
 on his neck, and ere she can recover her breath 
 or her senses, another sickening lurch all but 
 sends the now demoralized creature flying over 
 the stern. Her features are convulsed in a 
 sickly smile, she doubles over and clings with 
 both hands to the saddle ; her hat is on one 
 side, and the crowd far below her bellows with 
 unsympathetic glee. Meanwhile, The Evil 
 Camel-Driver, with head bent and eyes fixed 
 on the pavement, conducts the camel along by 
 the rope which he tucks under his arm, always 
 mlittering his " Look owet I" a moment too late 
 for the unwary bystander, who turns to find the 
 camel's head over his shoulder and his body 
 apparently filling the whole street, before the 
 driver's warning has reached his understanding. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 159 
 
 Many people, however, are quite at home on 
 their camel, and indeed they are easy enough 
 to ride, even when rising or kneeling, if one 
 has ever ridden anything at all in the shape of 
 a !iving animal. 
 
 The visitors to Cairo Street — the Americans, 
 Germans and other infidels who throng the 
 narrow ways and surge into the square — are 
 themselves an entertaining spectacle. Up and 
 down they pass, staring in at the booths, pour- 
 ing in at the theatre entrance, crowding about 
 Khalil Nada, the Egyptian conjuror (who walks 
 along with an ^'g^ in his left eye and another 
 in under his left ear, preceded by a quartette of 
 musicians, and stopping ever and anon to make 
 his eggs miraculously vanish and reappear), or 
 joking with the merry donkey-boys, Moham- 
 med especially, the proprietor of Mary Ander- 
 son, and the j oiliest urchin on the Street, 
 though Hassan, master of Yankee Doodle, is 
 a close second ; and, as I say, they are an 
 amusing spectacle in themselves, these curious, 
 jostling, skeptical, good-humored Americans. 
 Nevertheless, the best time really to see and 
 enjoy Cairo Street is during the hour, late in 
 the afternoon, when most of us have gone to 
 12 
 
i6o The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 dinner and the Orientals are temporarily left 
 to themselves. 
 
 This is the hour I love. See, beside that 
 arched doorway, full in the warm light of the 
 declining sun, that group whose blue and white 
 caftans and scarlet fezes are relieved so richly 
 against the mellow wall. How comfortably, 
 and with what expressive gestures, do they 
 gossip and laugh together ! and now one of 
 them puts a hand to his turban and extracts 
 from its folds a cigarette and a match, lights 
 the cigarette, and passes the match to his com- 
 panion, from whose own turban another cigar- 
 ette has been produced. A Dancing Girl passes, 
 a black shawl over her head and shoulders, her 
 white stockings and high-heeled shoes showing 
 below her bright skirts ; they call to her, and 
 laugh again. Near the camels the camel- 
 drivers squat together, and one of them plunges 
 his brown hand down into the inward depths of 
 his caftan to fish out a fistful of change, which 
 he counts over carefully. A Flower-Girl sits 
 down to rest on the step of a booth ; she is 
 dressed in voluminous black robes, with pink 
 and blue under-sleeves, and covered as to the 
 lower part of her face with a triangular black 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, i6i 
 
 veil, which hangs down below her breast, and is 
 supported at the centre by a great bronze bead 
 attached to her head-dress. She holds a bas- 
 ket of carnations on her knee, and flirts with a 
 donkey-boy beside her, who approves himself 
 almost as proficient in the art as she. Two 
 other donkey-boys are leaning their stomachs 
 • over the backs of their respective beasts and 
 conversing animatedly. A Turk with a big 
 apron on is hurrying into one of the houses 
 with a tray full of covered dishes. Down the 
 Street, another Turk, in bright green Turkish 
 jacket and trousers, emerges from the cigarette- 
 booth and accosts a tall Soudanese— a regal 
 creature, black as night, with hair hanging in 
 tight ringlets round his head, and standing up 
 stiffly on the crown. He wears a white toga 
 gracefully draped, one end flung over his 
 shoulder; black though he is, there is no 
 handsomer man in Cairo Street. Now, one of 
 the camel-drivers mounts his camel, jerks the 
 rope, the ungainly creature sways to his feet 
 and swings off down the street, his feet spread- 
 ing out at every step. The other drivers follow 
 their companion's example, and one or two 
 small boys, who have been playing in the 
 Street, scramble on behind just in time, 
 
1 62 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 The sun is near the horizon ; the sky is 
 a-flush with deep rose, against which the hght 
 and graceful minaret is clearly outlined. As 
 my eyes rest on it with delight, a figure emerges 
 through a door on the lower balcony and 
 spreads forth his arms. It is the muezzin at 
 last : and hark 1 he begins the call to prayer. 
 Clear and high above the noises here around 
 me his voice rises and falls with a sound wild 
 and solemn. It seems immeasurably far away, 
 and yet it fills all the air. Slowly he paces 
 round the little balcony and, while his lingering 
 cry yet rings in my ear and stirs my heart, he 
 vanishes again through the arched door. 
 
 But, for a golden moment, the spell remains. 
 I smtll the perfume of the lotus, and behold 
 across the wide desert the mighty sides of the 
 Pyramids, a train of long-necked camels defil- 
 ing before them. The hot air touches my 
 cheeks ; I slip back hundreds of years into the 
 past, and am traveling with the caravan, which 
 has once more come within hearing of that 
 weird call to prayer. 
 
 But, it is for a moment only. With a sigh, I 
 step down from the cafe, and mingle with the 
 throng that is again beginning to fill Cairo 
 Street, 
 
XIII. 
 
 About four o'clock every afternoon a typi- 
 cal Wedding Procession passes through Cairo 
 Street. 
 
 In no respect does it resemble a wedding 
 procession as we have it, except as to the es- 
 sential point that it apprises the world of the 
 fact that there has been a marriage. But it is 
 more picturesque than most of ours are, and it 
 always attracts a crowd. This is what happens : 
 
 The East Square is cleared and swept. The 
 spectators collect on the steps of the mosque, 
 and line the sides of the Square and of the nar- 
 row street. Meanwhile, from the western re- 
 gion is heard approaching the shrill piping of 
 the pipers, and the rattle of the camel-drums. 
 The Procession is under way, and now the 
 head of it winds into view. 
 
 First come two "Runners" — handsome 
 young Arabs, with shapely figures. In real 
 Cairo, youths like these run before the carriages 
 of the nobility ; and I have once or twice seen 
 
 163 
 
164 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 them in the Fair Grounds running before two 
 Turks, who were galloping at full speed on 
 donkey-back. Their action in running is very 
 graceful and tireless ; but the strain must be 
 severe, and they are said to commonly die 
 young. 
 
 They wear full white knickerbockers — if such 
 a name may be applied to an Arabian article of 
 dress — of fine linen-lawn, and full sleeves of 
 the same fabric, caught together at the back, 
 flutter in the breeze of their movement like 
 wings. Over their embroidered white shirts 
 they have a short, sleeveless jacket, and their 
 loins are girt with a sash whose flying ends are 
 fringed with gold. They are barefooted and 
 barelegged below the knee ; in their hands they 
 carry long, slender wands, ringed with black, 
 to wave back the crowd. Beautiful rings cover 
 their fingers. 
 
 Next, blowing lustily on long wooden pipes, 
 march four blue-caftaned musicians, followed 
 by as many camels in gorgeous housings ; the 
 two first camels having drums on either side 
 the pommels of their saddles, on which two 
 blue-gowned drummers are thumping. On one 
 of the rear camels sit two men, whose occupa- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 165 
 
 tion it is to slap each other's faces at intervals, 
 and twitch each other's turbans, maintaining 
 the while an expression of fish-like composure. 
 They perform the same antics on the street at 
 intervals during the day, and it is said that this 
 is a method adopted by Egyptian beggars to 
 solicit alms. I have noticed that, in their street 
 performances, an inverted turban is handed 
 about amongst the crowd for backsheesh. 
 
 On the fourth camel sits solitary a wild, fierce- 
 looking Arab in a striped caftan, his long hair 
 blowing about his shoulders. A scimitar dan- 
 gles from his belt, and in his hand he carries a 
 long, light pole. 
 
 Now comes a couple of brown-skinned wrest- 
 lers, nearly naked, and behind them two Turk- 
 ish swordsmen, swinging their scimitars about 
 and bounding from side to side. One of them 
 is very stout, with an enormous stomach, but 
 he is as agile as a boy. 
 
 Next, supported on poles between two camels, 
 appears a palanquin of carved wood, with flut- 
 tering silk curtains, from between which peep 
 the mischievous black eyes of two or three 
 little boys, and a little brown hand waves 
 patronizingly to the spectators. 
 
1 66 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 Last of all, march half a dozen veiled women 
 in black and pink garments, uttering at inter- 
 vals a shrill, trilling call. Between the two 
 last walks the bride herself, veiled from head 
 to foot in red, so that all that can be seen of 
 her is her height, which is that of a twelve- 
 year-old girl. I have heard it whispered, how- 
 ever, that the bride's part is assumed by a boy ; 
 perhaps mock brides are not good form in 
 Egypt. An awning is held over her head by 
 four small boys in blue or black caftans and 
 red fezes ; they walk unevenly, and the awning 
 sways to and fro at haphazard. 
 
 Arrived at the Eastern Square, the procession 
 rings itself round the central space, crowding 
 the spectators against the wall. The wrestlers 
 advance to the centre, roll each other over in 
 the dust, and perform various antics. Then a 
 Nubian and one of the musicians engage in a 
 clever and pretty bout at single-stick, and the 
 wild, long-haired Arab slips down from his 
 camel and dances a sword-dance, remounting 
 his camel without making it kneel. 
 
 Meanwhile the two fencers are beginning to 
 swoop about, and, the space being clear, they 
 stride in, striking their blades defiantly against 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 167 
 
 the small round targets they carry. Most of 
 their time and energy are expended in bound- 
 ing and skipping about at opposite sides of the 
 arena, neither seeming to pay attention to the 
 other. They clash swords and shield together 
 before, behind, above their heads, slash the air 
 on all sides fiercely, sweep their swords over 
 the pavement, as if to set their edges, leap into 
 the air, twirl about, and, at last, rush suddenly 
 at each other, and exchange a volley of hght- 
 ning-like blows. The next moment they have 
 whisked themselves apart, and are bounding 
 and clashing, each in his own corner, once 
 more. Again they meet, and so it goes on un- 
 til one of them kneels on one knee and crosses 
 his arms over his head — and so the other wins. 
 The fat one is usually the winner. 
 
 Anon the music strikes up ; the procession 
 falls into hne ; the camels lunge forward, and off 
 they all go. But, at the door of the theatre, 
 there is a halt and a slight confusion ; a man 
 has rushed up to the bride, caught her in his 
 arms, and made off with her, followed by the 
 women. This represents the seizing of the 
 bride by the bridegroom, and ends the display. 
 
 As the Nautch dancing within the theatre is 
 
1 68 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 about to begin I enter with the crowd. The 
 large, curtainless stage is decorated with beau- 
 tiful hangings which make a background for 
 Oriental arms and armor ; lamps of pierced 
 brass swing from the ceiling ; two long divans 
 extend the breadth of the stage against the 
 wall. On that to the left of the centre sit nine 
 or ten girls ; on the other, half a dozen Turkish 
 and Moorish musicians, with pipes, hand-drums 
 and odd stringed instruments. 
 
 The spacious auditorium includes a gallery 
 supported on Moorish arches ; it is ornamented 
 with festoons and streamers, and with several 
 portraits of the Khedive. 
 
 After a prelude by the orchestra, one of the 
 girls uncrosses her legs, gets down from the 
 divan, shakes out her skirt, pushes her girdle 
 down over her hips, and walks to the centre 
 of the stage. A very short, cutaway Turkish 
 jacket covers her breasts and shoulders ; it is 
 red, blue, or any brilliant color, and is heavily 
 embroidered and fringed with gold. Her skirt, 
 reaching nearly to the ankles, hangs from the 
 hips, leaving all the upper part of the body not 
 covered by the jacket bare ; though, in defer- 
 ence to American susceptibilities, a diaphanous 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 169 
 
 gauze undershirt is worn. Numerous necklaces 
 encircle her neck and hang down below her 
 breast. From her girdle swing six tasseled 
 ribbons. Her stockings are either white or of 
 some hue contrasting with the skirt, which 
 sometimes matches the jacket and is sometimes 
 striped. On her feet are high-heeled embroid- 
 ered slippers, kept on by the toes. Thus 
 arrayed, she begins the Danse du Ventre. 
 
 It is a wonderful dance, and though these 
 particular girls do not happen to be graceful, it 
 is easy to see that it may be so executed as 
 to be very beautiful. The ,^^ 
 dancer moves her feet 
 and legs but little ; most 
 of the time she is standing ! 
 in one place, then sidles along 
 a little way and stops again. 
 There is a continual swaying of 
 the arms, and the peculiar cas- 
 tanets she wears on her fingers 
 make a tinkling sound in time with 
 the music. Indeed, it is the dancer 
 who gives the time, changing it to 
 suit the different phases of the dance, 
 and occasionally half turning to ad- 
 monish the musicians. 
 
1 70 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 The dance is something more than its name 
 implies ; it involves movements of the entire 
 front of the body from the hips to the head, 
 and including the breasts. The control which 
 the dancer has over all the muscles of this 
 region is truly astonishing. The body poises 
 itself lightly between the hips, which maintain 
 a swaying motion, while the body itself is made 
 to exhibit every variety of undulation, up and 
 down, sideways and circular. Sometimes her 
 crossed hands hold a silken scarf before her 
 face ; she drops the castanets and makes a 
 peculiar soft snapping sound with her fingers. 
 Again, she stands erect, and a singular vibra- 
 tion or shivering takes possession of her whole 
 body, making the necklaces jingle on her 
 bosom, and the ribbons on her sash shake. 
 One of the most striking figures of the dance 
 is a movement from side to side of the head 
 upon the shoulders, which recalls the action of 
 a serpent as it erects itself on its coils. 
 
 Occasionally there are variations, as when 
 the girl seizes a chair between her teeth and 
 balances it above her head, continuing mean- 
 while the regular undulations of the dance ; or 
 holds a chandelier of lighted candles on her 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 1 7 1 
 
 head. But, substantially, all the girls dance 
 alike, both in this theatre and in the others in 
 the Plaisance. Of course, in such a perform- 
 ance almost everything, so far as beauty of 
 effect is concerned, must depend upon the har- 
 moniousness and smoothness of the dancer's 
 movements; anything like jerkiness spoils and 
 vulgarizes it. The most graceful dancers in 
 the Plaisance do not appear on this stage. 
 
 Each of the girls danc-es in her turn, and 
 while they are waiting they sit cross-legged on 
 the divan looking on, or contemplating the 
 audience, or chatting with one another. Now 
 and then one will get up and disappear behind 
 the curtain at one side of the stage to take a 
 drink of sherbet or smoke a cigarette, or per- 
 haps change her costume. The musicians also 
 saunter in and out as the humor seizes them ; 
 when one gets tired of playing he hands his 
 mstrument to a companion and goes off. After 
 all the girls have danced there is a fencing 
 match similar to that at the Wedding Proces- 
 sion. This concludes the performance, and 
 you are then at hberty either to go out, or to 
 stay and see it all over again. 
 
 The religious dance in the Temple of Luxor 
 
172 TJie Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 is the same in principle as this, but less pro- 
 nounced. The Egyptian girl who dances it is 
 clothed in garments like unto those worn by 
 the painted figures on the Temple walls, which 
 are exact reproductions of the original designs 
 in Thebes. The temple is ^evere and massive 
 in architecture, beautiful with a beauty as un- 
 like that of the minaret as can be conceived. 
 Down the aisles of the great Hall are ranged 
 sarcophagi, with wooden models of mummies 
 in them — mummies of kings who died as many 
 centuries before as we are living after Christ. 
 At the further end, flanked by effigies of gods 
 with strange names, is a platform whereon sit 
 half a dozen men in Egyptian costume — silken 
 robes of red and blue, and the stately head- 
 dress, with pendants beside the cheeks. They 
 play on stringed instruments with long handles. 
 With them sits a lovely girl with a harp, quite 
 unlike our harps. But the girl who now arises 
 to dance is lovelier than the other. Such a 
 face as hers may some fair maiden of Rameses 
 Second's time have had, and upon it seems to 
 rest a soft, transparent shadow. Everything 
 about her is gentle, sweet and soft, and very 
 low and musical is her voice. Her movements 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 173 
 
 in the dance are graceful, slow and strange, as 
 is the music. She ceases all too soon, and I 
 leave the Temple reluctantly. The very atmos- 
 phere of ancient Egypt is there. 
 
 At the door of Khalil Nada's little Home of 
 Mystery is hopping up and down a big Moor, 
 calling out over and over again : ''Just begin- 
 ning, yV^^/ begun ! just beginning, y?/5/ begun !" 
 and occasionally for a change : " Come, come ! 
 come, come !" The great magician himself is 
 a strong, spare, good-humored man of middle 
 size, dark, with a small turban, and a blue 
 caftan girdled at the waist. He appears bare- 
 legged, and with his two miraculous eggs in 
 their customary positions, beckons, smiling, and 
 vanishes again. Complying with his invitation, 
 I find him squatting on a small platform, ready 
 to begin. At his suggestion the audience drew 
 their chairs up close to the stage, and he pro- 
 ceeded to do some excellent tricks. But his 
 tricks of manner were even more engaging 
 than his magic. When about to make a nut 
 change to an ^gg, or to bring some article he 
 needed from the empty air, he would cry, as if 
 summoning his familiar spirit, " Gah-lah, Gah- 
 lah, Gah-lah !" and Gah-Iah, whoever he was, 
 
174 T^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 never failed him. The trick being done, he 
 would mutter, with an inquiring intonation, 
 ''Very clevah ?" and then, seeing an assenting 
 smile on our faces, ''Very clevah!" In addi- 
 tion to Gah-lah, who is invisible, he possesses a 
 visible familiar in the shape of a hideous and 
 unnaturally sagacious ape, who rides about 
 Cairo Street on what is said to be, and cer- 
 tainly must be, the smallest donkey in the 
 world. Khalil Nada is the most delightful old 
 enchanter I ever met. 
 
 Over the door of the Soudanese Tent is 
 written, "See the Soudanese Baby Dance; 
 Only Eighteen Months Old !" And though 
 the months go by, the Soudanese Baby re- 
 mains the same age. But it is a cunning little 
 thing, and imitates the grown-up dancers finely, 
 which would be still more remarkable were 
 their "dancing" anything more than simple 
 jumping up and down. The Baby stamps round 
 indefatigably after its mother, and one of the 
 men, a wiry, shock-headed little fellow, with a 
 bustle made of rattling lamb's hoofs, throws a 
 great deal of energy into his performance, 
 stamping and jumping, and rushing hither 
 and thither. Passing through this tent I came 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 175 
 
 to the conical Soudanese huts, occupied by the 
 tall, handsome creatures in white togas whom 
 I had already met in Cairo Street. The huts 
 have little three-cornered doors, hardly big 
 enough to squeeze through, and which shut 
 after one of themselves. The men, women 
 and children are crowded together here so 
 closely that the air is unpleasant to breathe; 
 their dancing amounts to nothing, while their 
 demands for backsheesh are out of all propor- 
 tions to their deserts. Altogether, the Soudan- 
 ese are much better company out of doors than 
 at home. My chief anxiety, when I had got 
 in, was to get out again ; but the door was 
 hard to find, and, when found, everybody 
 seemed to get in front of it. However, I es- 
 caped at last, and did not go there again. 
 
 There are two doors by which one may get 
 into Cairo Street, but only one to get out by. 
 On the house-fronts along the Street are signs, 
 " Exit Below," and an extended finger pointing 
 westward. But within the eastern gate is a 
 very large and stern placard, "No Exit 
 Here!" Such, notwithstanding, is the per- 
 versity of human nature, that at least one per- 
 son out of three makes a resolute effort to ^o 
 
 13 
 
176 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 out by this door. It requires all the profes- 
 sional firmness of the Columbian Guard sta- 
 tioned there to resist the coaxing of the women 
 and the growls of the men. 
 
 "Oh, dear, do let me out! It can't make 
 any difference just this once ; and really I 
 can't walk back along that horrid street 
 again !" says a lady, in accents of despair. 
 
 But the Guard shakes his head. 
 
 "You ain't going to make me walk down 
 your damned old street, my boy ! I have had 
 enough of this place, and I'm going out here !" 
 puffs a fat, red-faced man, with a green um- 
 brella over his head. 
 
 But back he is obliged to go, nevertheless. 
 
 Others, of more subtle intellect, impercep- 
 tibly sidle along towards their goal, looking 
 earnestly at the booths, turning to pat a 
 donkey, and, at last, in a preoccupied, uncon- 
 scious way, attempting to saunter out of the 
 fateful gate. But the Guard is ready for them, 
 too, and no one, except the caftaned natives of 
 Cairo themselves, ever succeeds in leaving the 
 Street through those portals. 
 
 I am, myself, in no such haste to depart 
 that I cannot spare time for one parting 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 177 
 
 glance up and down this delightful thorough- 
 fare. 
 
 Three Hindu jugglers, white-robed, with 
 orange turbans, pass me on the way to their 
 tent. About the neck of the leader is twisted a 
 large, Hve serpent, with raised head and quiv- 
 ering tongue. Another carries a flute ; and the 
 third leads by a string a queer animal, some- 
 thing like a stupendous rat, with long hair. 
 This creature rushes and jumps about with 
 startling agility. Arrived in front of their tent, 
 one of the men glances about, sees a bit of a 
 brick lying in the road, picks it up, and places 
 it before him. Again he looks about, and this 
 time picks up a scrap of paper, which he lays 
 upon a stone. He waves his hands, hfts the 
 paper .... The brickbat has disappeared. 
 He replaces the paper, makes another pass 
 . . . . Lo ! the brickbat has come back. He 
 looks up at the ring of spectators, smiling with 
 a flash of his teeth and eyes, points to the tent, 
 as much as to say, " Better things in there!" 
 and the three pass in. 
 
 From one of the booths a young Turk is 
 calling, " Bum-bum candy — nice candy — every- 
 body buy! Venez, venez, venez, Madame, 
 
178 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 Monsieur !" There is the flower-girl trying to 
 wheedle an old gentleman into buying a carna- 
 tion ; he looks both shocked and pleased at 
 her importunities, with a tendency to become 
 more pleased than shocked. A small Soudan- 
 ese girl walks down the street like a princess, 
 one beautiful black arm and shoulder bare. 
 Here come three men racing on donkeys, 
 with yells and laughter. Beyond looms a camel, 
 his ungainly neck outstretched. The crowd 
 lounges here and there, looking, laughing, 
 chattering. Scattered throughout, like plums 
 in a pudding, are blue and w^hite caftans, red 
 fezes, turbans of all colors, the cream-hued 
 burnous of an Arab, a Nubian's black face, a 
 group of dark-eyed children, merry donkey- 
 boys and gloomy camel-drivers — a whole for- 
 eign population in the midst of our familiar 
 faces and dresses. For background, there are 
 the arched doorways, the sunny walls, the tiny 
 bazars. In front of the Temple of Luxor, a 
 crimson-clad young Egyptian is clapping his 
 hands together, throwing his body from side to 
 side, smiling most beguilingly, and chanting 
 the refrain, *• 'Gyptian Temple — 'Gyptian Tem- 
 ple !'* At the high Meshrebie casement on the 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 1 79 
 
 corner a little child leans out and smiles down 
 at me, pushing the window open again as it 
 swings together. 
 
 And there, slender and fair, rising above all 
 the human noise and color of the populous 
 street, soars the pure minaret with its fretted 
 arches — the embodiment of a benediction ! 
 
XIV. 
 
 Outside Cairo gates there is always a colony 
 of roller-chairs with their attendants, who yawn 
 beside or in them, awaiting the return of their 
 passengers — who are riding camels and don- 
 keys in Egypt, and contemplating the undula- 
 tions of the Nautch girls, and, perhaps, trying 
 to get out by the forbidden door. I pass by a 
 gigantic Columbian Guard lolling against the 
 gate-post, and watching with a grimly perfunc- 
 tory air the outflowing stream. The turnstiles 
 of the Ferris Wheel are in front of me and I 
 cross the street and am admitted. 
 
 While the Wheel was still unfinished, I used 
 to gaze up its enormous height, and see work- 
 men swinging and scrabbling about the spokes 
 and stays ; and I resolved never to enter one 
 of the cars that were to hang round its mighty 
 perimeter. But afterwards, when I had day 
 after day observed its stately revolutions on its 
 gigantic axle, and had seen innumerable 
 people (who looked no braver than I) seated 
 
 1 80 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 i8i 
 
 placidly at the car- windows, I resolved to break 
 my resolve, and to ride as high as the highest. 
 The cars are large — larger than horse-cars ; 
 so there is plenty of room to walk about be- 
 tween the revolving stools fixed at the win- 
 dows. On entering my car, I sat with my face 
 to the east, and so smooth was the motion, 
 that it was some moments before I perceived 
 that the Wheel was moving. But up it rose, 
 steadily, with a sidewise departure from the 
 
 vertical 
 easier to see 
 Presently, 
 the arch of 
 eter hid the 
 east, I cross- 
 other side 
 Here the 
 stretched 
 miles. Chi- 
 wards the 
 swathed in 
 of murky 
 the west , 
 ly at my 
 the Race- 
 
 which it was 
 than to feel, 
 finding that 
 the perim- 
 view on the 
 ed to the 
 of the car. 
 level prairie 
 out for 
 cago, to- 
 right, was 
 a cloud 
 smoke. To 
 seeming- 
 feet, lay 
 Track, 
 
1 82 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 which, as it happened to be Derby Day, was 
 thronged with carriages and swarming crowds, 
 while the httle horses scurried round the 
 circle. So small did the whole thing appear, 
 that I could fancy myself picking it all up, 
 and watching the great race on the palm 
 of my hand. Directly below lay Old Vienna, 
 with its band-stand in the middle of the 
 square, surrounded by tiny tables with mi- 
 croscopic people drinking beer at them. On 
 the other side of the way I saw the ostriches 
 in the California Ostrich Farm, and the man 
 standing before the door of the enclosure, de- 
 scribing (in terms to which I had often listened) 
 the enormous size of the birds — the funny little 
 things ! 
 
 When my car reached the apogee of the 
 ascent, the Wheel stopped, and there we swung, 
 just above the axle, which is three feet in diam- 
 eter, but looked barely the thickness of my 
 middle finger. And the inside of the Wheel 
 seemed even more tremendous than the out- 
 side. 
 
 On the way down, there was a splendid view 
 of the Fair City — the great, white, silent build- 
 ings, the blue lagoons, the green turf and trees, 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 183 
 
 and beyond, the wide, smooth, endless Lake. 
 And here was Midway's broad walk, crowded 
 from end to end and from side to side, the 
 costumes of the denizens of its strange build- 
 ings and queer villages always noticeable 
 amidst the mass of our sober-clad people. As 
 we swung downwards, people and buildings 
 waxed momentarily larger. The Street of 
 Cairo was a jumble of camels and Arabs 
 wedged in the crowd of visitors that filled the 
 narrow crookedness between the houses. From 
 my lofty position I could see the little courts 
 at the backs of the houses, which were not 
 meant to be seen by alien eyes ; and the flat 
 tops of the roofs, covered with gravel. Some 
 caftans and turban-cloths were drying on a 
 clothes line ; and a couple of natives sat 
 smoking in one of the back yards, on a door- 
 step. 
 
 Now I am down to the level of the dome of 
 the Moorish Palace ; still downwards we sweep, 
 and I can see people looking up at us ; and I 
 catch a glimpse of the white arm and shoulder 
 of the pretty girl in the Persian Palace window 
 Now we are at the lowest point of the circle, and 
 can see nothing except some slowly-revolving 
 
184 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 toothed wheels and cranks ; and now we are 
 on the rise once more. For, as the whooper-in 
 had already informed us, we go twice around 
 for our half dollar. 
 
 When at last I alight once more on solid 
 Midway, the Wheel seems twice as big as it did 
 before. For now I remember its enormousness 
 from above, while I am seeing its greatness 
 from below. It is big enough even for Chicago ! 
 
 Old Vienna is just the place to rest and cool 
 off in. Here, accordingly, I sit, surrounded by 
 the irregular square of quaint, century-old 
 houses, with a mug of cold beer standing be- 
 fore me on a small table ; for all Austrians 
 drink beer ; and, while I am in Vienna, I am an 
 Austrian. 
 
 There is good music every afternoon by the 
 band of white-uniformed Austrians. Very 
 bright and new they look, with the sun shining 
 on their spotless doublets, and sparkling on 
 their brass horns, and golden epaulettes, and 
 polished sword-hilts. Not all the corps is on 
 duty ; several of them are scattered about at 
 the tables, in company with pretty Austrian 
 girls, calHng to the kellners (who hurry about 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 185 
 
 with a pyramid of foaming mugs balanced on 
 a tray in one hand, and half a dozen more 
 grasped by the handles in the other) — " Zwei 
 bier, bitte !" How contented they look, with 
 their white coats and their blond, Germanic 
 faces, and their heroic moustachios ! 
 
 I like to sit and look at it all, and to hear the 
 German tongue spoken on every side, the 
 hearty German laughter, and, when the band 
 finishes the crashing miUtary air, or the slow 
 love-song, to join in the enthusiastic hand- 
 clapping and " bravos." And then, when I 
 have drunk my beer, I like to get up and stroll 
 round the square, and look into the little shops* 
 with their old jewelry, their carved meerschaum 
 pipes, their red and blue embroideries, their 
 engraved glass, and other Austrian curiosities. 
 The shop-girls wear white chemisettes and 
 laced bodices, with skirts that show their trim 
 ankles. It is a charming old place. 
 
 There is apparently some mystic connection 
 between Old Vienna and modern Bulgaria; 
 for near the upper gate of the former there is a 
 weighing-machine, presided over by a little 
 Bulgarian maiden about seven years old. She 
 has a Bulgarian Papa in the background, who 
 
1 86 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 looks after the business end of the machine; 
 but she does the talking, and is the attraction. 
 She told me she was "just not quite five;" and 
 no doubt she believes it ; but unless Bulgarian 
 little girls are much more rapid in their devel- 
 opment than those of other countries, she must 
 be unconsciously following the example set by 
 the eighteen-months-old Soudanese Baby of 
 Cairo Street. At all events, she has a speech 
 which she repeats to all and sundry who pass 
 her way, running somewhat as follows : " Do 
 not spend your money for candy, or in de 
 restaurants, which would be foolish ; but come 
 and sit in dis chair, and I will tell you your 
 correct weight for a nickel." She is a cunning 
 little maid, with big, soft, dark eyes, and — 
 except when repeating her speech — a shy, 
 pretty way of talking. But for her speech she 
 assumes a fixed, somewhat anxious expression, 
 and rattles it off m a strained voice, without a 
 pause for breath. At our request, she said it 
 over two or three times, always in just the same 
 way. After you have accepted her sage sug- 
 gestions, and the machine has registered your 
 •'correct weight," she looks up at her father, 
 who thereupon examines the bar and announces 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 187 
 
 the number to her in a stage whisper, and 
 she repeats it in her confident, business tone. 
 You put the nickel in her Httle palm, and she 
 hands it over to the parental care, and delivers 
 her homily once more. 
 
 The houses in Old Vienna are very pictur- 
 esque, with their little dormer windows in the 
 roof, their peaked gables, their narrow doorways, 
 and their inscriptions in antique German charac- 
 ters, with many curls and flourishes. There is a 
 Rathhaus, with a great iron lantern swinging 
 from a crane over the door ; and near it is the 
 reproduction of an ancient church. In the 
 small-paned windows of the dwelling-houses 
 hang white ruffled curtains ; and boxes planted 
 with flowers stand on the sills of some of them. 
 All is cosy, neat and home-like ; and the merry 
 talk and laughter of the beer-drinking, music- 
 hearing crowd harmonize with the prevalent 
 air of peace and comfort conveyed by the 
 buildings. 
 
 When I weary of white Austrian uniforms, I 
 can find blackness enough a few steps west- 
 ward, in Dahomey. At the bark gateway, my 
 ticket is taken by a pigmy Frenchman, in a 
 large white helmet such as one associates with 
 
i88 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 Stanley and other intrepid African explorers. 
 Stepping past him, a large enclosure is re- 
 vealed, bounded on three sides by small, low 
 huts, some of them with shallow porches. 
 The fourth side, opposite the gate, is occupied 
 by a long, narrow building, containing Daho- 
 mey an arms, domestic implements and other 
 trophies. In the centre of the enclosed space 
 is a large oblong pavilion, consisting of a roof 
 supported on posts and painted with brilliant 
 red, white and blue stripes, over a platform 
 raised some two feet above the ground, and 
 protected from unauthorized approach by an 
 environing rope fence. 
 
 On this platform is a group of about fifty 
 men and women, looking exactly like the 
 pictures of " natives " in African travel-books. 
 They wear a slight garment of green and 
 yellow striped calico ; sometimes in the shape 
 of a pair of drawers, sometimes as a petticoat 
 (very short), and sometimes as a sleeveless 
 waist and skirt in one. Half the women and 
 nearly all the men are naked to the waist, and 
 are destitute of either shoes or sandals. 
 Cowry-shell necklaces, and belts decorated 
 with cowry shells, hang about them ; bronze 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 189 
 
 armlets clasp their arms, and knives, hatchets, 
 and short war-clubs are worn in the belt or 
 brandished in the air. The figures of the men 
 are, as a rule, wiry and powerful, and some of 
 them have beautiful chests and shoulders, and 
 great ridges of muscle on their backs. But their 
 legs and arms are not quite so good ; they are 
 apt to be spindly. As for the women, whether 
 unmarried "Amazons " or mothers of families, 
 they are thoroughly ugly in figure as well as 
 face ; their breasts either hang down like long 
 empty bags, or project — in the young girls — 
 like those of animals. The Amazons have 
 scarred themselves all over their faces and 
 bosoms in a hideous manner, after the style of 
 the male warriors. 
 
 At the southern end of the pavilion, on a 
 throne made of what seems to be an old 
 barrel, sits the aged king or chief of the tribe. 
 
 He is bent, wrinkled and mild-looking, and 
 appears to pay no attention to what is going 
 forward. His gray wool is surmounted by a 
 rusty bronze head-dress in the shape of a 
 crown. The rest of the company may be 
 divided into three parts : the Medicine-Man, 
 already described, who evidently regards him- 
 
190 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 self as a sort of Adonis, whose only mission is 
 to be ornamental, and who strolls about the 
 stage in his absurd straw petticoat at his own 
 sweet will ; the musicians, and the dancers, of 
 whom there are about thirty, of both sexes. 
 The orchestral instruments are few and sim- 
 ple ; three or four iron bells, some large and 
 small drums, with either one or two heads, and 
 a small barrel with a piece of skin stretched 
 over one end, to the inner side of which is 
 attached a thin stick ; the performer draws his 
 fingers down this stick, causing the skin to 
 vibrate, and producing a hollow, croaking 
 noise. Another musician flourishes a sort of 
 rattle. There is also a flute ; but the pro- 
 prietor of this plays only in the intervals of 
 the dances, so that he and the Medicine-Man, 
 who toots on a horn made out of a tusk, when 
 the humor seizes him, can hardly be said to 
 belong to the orchestra. 
 
 The musicians, such as they are, squat round 
 the king on old soap-boxes and packing-cases. 
 The dancers arrange themselves at the other 
 end of the stage, in ranks ; three men stand 
 facing them, with their backs to the music. 
 The tooting, ringing, rattling, squeaking and 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 1 9 1 
 
 thumping begin, and so do the dancers. Their 
 performance consists in alternate short ad- 
 vances and retreats, with measured steps — 
 though by no means serene and slow — in time 
 with the music ; they shake their shoulders vio- 
 lently to and fro, and, as the music becomes 
 more rapid, they throw themselves about faster 
 and faster, jumping, and once in awhile simul- 
 taneously springing from one foot, making a 
 half-whirl in the air, and coming down again 
 with a thump. The three other men execute 
 a variety of fancy steps and twirlings ; the 
 clamor of the instruments grows louder and 
 louder, and the dancers themselves never 
 cease to bellow out a savage refrain at the 
 top of their voices, and, as they grow excited, 
 they brandish their clubs and tomahawks and 
 yell. All of a sudden, as abruptly as they be- 
 gan, they stop, and crowding up to the king's 
 end of the platform they enter into a most ani- 
 mated conversation with the musicians and 
 with one another — so animated indeed that I 
 expected to see it issue in a free fight. But it 
 is only the Dahomeyan way. Just before the 
 dances begin, a couple of men make the cir- 
 cuit of the stage, chanting something in a 
 
 14 
 
192 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 fierce tone, and gesticulating threateningly at 
 the spectators, who are crowded close to the 
 ropes all the way round. Possibly they are 
 heaping intolerable insults upon us, but we 
 shall never know it, for nothing can be imag- 
 ined more hopelessly unintelligible than the 
 language of Dahomey. 
 
 The best time to observe them is when they 
 are not officially on exhibition, and the plat- 
 form is deserted. They lounge about the en- 
 closure, go in and out of their huts, or sit on 
 their little stoops, cook their meals on the two 
 Chicago ranges which occupy huts at oppo- 
 site sides of the squares, curl and plait one 
 another's wool in fantastic patterns, wash out 
 their green and yellow rags, and, once in a 
 while get up an impromptu dance outside of 
 the pavilion, without music, and just for fun. 
 They are friendly and good-natured, anxious 
 to shake hands with visitors, borrow cigarettes 
 or matches, and converse in sign-language. 
 
 A few of them have picked up some English 
 words, which, interlarded with manifold ges- 
 tures, carry them far. An interested group 
 of on-lookers was watching the brewing of a 
 huge bowl full of native drink, when a youn^ 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 193 
 
 blackamoor, who had filled his jug with it, 
 turned round to us, shook his head, and 
 said with a grin, "Chicago beer .... Bad! 
 .... Make head . . . . " Here words 
 failed him, and he whirled his hand round in 
 front of his forehead, and then dropped his 
 head helplessly on his shoulder, and shut his 
 eyes. " He's been there !" observed a man in 
 the crowd ; and there was a general laugh of 
 assent, while the negro, pointing to his jug, 
 grinned unctuously, and added in sonorous 
 tones, "Good .... Chicago beer . . . . " 
 completing the sentence with a grunt of hearty 
 distaste. 
 
 An old fellow, who sat before the door of his 
 hut near the gate, had been so often asked cer- 
 tain questions that he knew them by heart, like 
 a parrot, without in the least comprehending 
 their meaning ; so, when any one paused to 
 look at him, he would say in a high, hard 
 tone, like that of some American women, 
 " Can you speak Englis ? — What you make ? — 
 Do you hke here ?" He had got the sounds of 
 the words almost to perfection, and the effect 
 was too funny for anything. 
 
 One day a conspicuously blonde girl, dressed 
 
194 ^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 in white, with a broad-brimmed Leghorn hat, 
 was standing in front of the kitchen-hut, watch- 
 ing the cooking. A tall and muscular young 
 warrior was leaning against the wall of the 
 hut, observing us with almost as much interest 
 as we betrayed in him. Suddenly his glance 
 fell on the blonde girl, and he instantly pointed 
 her out to a companion, who scrutinized her 
 with the intentness of a cat studying a spar- 
 row. The pair discussed the novel phenome- 
 non, and the girl grew embarrassed. Soon her 
 first admirer called upon another friend, and 
 showed him his " find" with an air of propri- 
 etorship. She was no longer able to maintain 
 even an appearance of unconsciousness, and 
 tilted her hat-brim down to hide her face. Her 
 new recruit, however, nothing daunted, bent far 
 down and peered up under the brim at her. All 
 three burst into a laugh, and the girl promptly 
 fled from Dahomey Land. 
 
 But the Dahomeyans themselves like being 
 made game of no better than did the blonde. 
 Once, while the dancing was going on, a man 
 in the crowd began poking fun at a drummer 
 near him, who understood his tone and gestures, 
 if not his words. Suddenly the Dahomeyan 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 195 
 
 sprang to his feet, snatched up a war-club, and 
 plunged at the joker with a marrow-freezing 
 yell. The latter, and all in his vicinity, scat- 
 tered back like the followers of Wickliff before 
 the charge of Bertram Risinghame. Here- 
 upon, the negro actually rolled on the floor in 
 ecstasy, and his comrades roared with glee. 
 
 They delight in scaring people, just hke 
 naughty children. A visitor having offered a 
 cigar to one of them, snatched it back at the 
 instant the long black fingers of the Daho- 
 meyan were about to close on it. The latter 
 leaned over the raihng, still extending one 
 hand, while he drew the other significantly 
 across his throat. The visitor laughed, and 
 tossed him the cigar, remarking, " That's all 
 very well ; but you aren't in Dahomey now, my 
 boy!'' 
 
XV. 
 
 There are shows in Midway at which you 
 look once and look no more, like the man de- 
 scribed by the Ancient Mariner. Not that they 
 are fiendish, by any means ; but all there is of 
 them can be used up at one visit. 
 
 There is the Ostrich Farm, for instance. The 
 long-legged bird-giants stalk about within their 
 enclosure, reaching down their small heads at 
 the end of their long necks to seek for corn- 
 grains, which they devour with as much relish 
 and avidity as if each were a pumpkin. A 
 man gets inside the fence and says he will 
 show us how ostriches are ridden in Africa. By 
 the lure of a plate of corn he catches one of 
 them by the beak and by the shoulder of the 
 left wing. The bird pulls back, flaps and 
 kicks out with his hard, sharp toes at the man's 
 stomach ; but after a short struggle, the man 
 contrives to throw himself over the bird's 
 tail, and to clamber half on, holding by the 
 feathers. Off sails the ostrich, full trot, and 
 
 196 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 197 
 
 with as light a step as if the man were but an 
 apparition ; but after a few moments the rider 
 slides to the ground and pulls down his ruffled 
 waistcoat. 
 
 Close to the *'Farm" is the little Brazihan 
 Concert Hall, where ten or twelve South Ameri- 
 can negroes (not natives) are always ^ mk 
 dancingasort of quadrille, and sing- ^" ' 
 ing at the full compass of their 
 vigorous lungs. They are char- 
 acterized by immaculate respecta- 
 bility and inexhaustible vital- 
 ity ; and they maintain a 
 demeanor of perfect gravity, 
 except when they acknowl- 
 edge applause with a 
 momentary flash of their . ^ ; 
 white teeth. 
 
 There is an Indian 
 Village behind a long 
 blue fence, with a man 
 outside to tell us that 
 amidst all the marvels a.nd beauties of the 
 Fair in general and the Plaisance in particular, 
 there is nothing more worthy of our notice and 
 admiration than our own free unadulterated 
 
198 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 wild Indian. I am willing to agree with his 
 sentiment, but not with the illustration of it 
 behind the blue fence. These Indians are 
 tame — depressingly so — in feature and con- 
 duct, and when they have done their stint of a 
 so-called war-dance, in shirt and leggings, they 
 put on European clothes and promenade in the 
 Midway, looking much more at their ease than 
 in their buckskins. Nevertheless, there is 
 among them one old brave, quiet, dignified 
 and fine-looking, who had the good taste to 
 sit still and do nothing. But the contrast be- 
 tween this exhibit and Buffalo Bill's show is 
 pathetic. 
 
 At the other end of Midway are the Libbey 
 Glass Works, in a bright and pretty building, 
 brilliantly illuminated at night with electric 
 lights, and in the daytime adorned, as to its 
 front lawn, with great masses of raw glass, a 
 foot or more in diameter. In the main room I 
 saw men melt glass in furnaces so hot that the 
 fierce white light beating out of the small doors 
 was dazzling. The lump of glass the operator 
 was working was on the end of a hollow, metal 
 rod, which he kept twirling like a mop all the 
 time. When he drew the glass out of the fur- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 199 
 
 nace-hole he blew through the other end of the 
 rod, and the red-hot glass swelled up like an 
 incandescent soap-bubble, and soon began to 
 turn grayish, with blue, green and yellow lights 
 through it. At intervals the operator thumped 
 and molded the soft glass with a small stick he 
 had, then he heated it again, blew it out again, 
 twirled and fashioned it, until at last, instead 
 of a lump of glowing fire, there was a glass 
 bowl, or bottle, or vase, attached by the bottom 
 to the end of the rod. The man gave it a 
 smart blow, and the thing was done so far as 
 he was concerned ; it was sent into the next 
 department to be beautified by the chasers and 
 cutters. 
 
 I followed it thither. There was a humming 
 of many wheels swifdy revolving, and wet 
 streams of sand and emory poured over them ; 
 and against their tires the engraver or cutter 
 held the glass vessel with both hands, and 
 there was a rasping noise as the wheel cut into 
 the glass with a sharp whirr. 
 
 Spun glass is made with a big broad wheel, 
 a blow-pipe, and a glass rod. The rod is held 
 against the flame of the blow-pipe, and when 
 the point of it melts a stick is applied to it, and 
 
200 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 with a quick movement of the wrist a thread of 
 soft glass is drawn out and tossed on the perim- 
 eter of the big revolving wheel. This imme- 
 diately begins reeling it off the melting end 
 of the glass rod, and the process goes on as 
 long as any of the rod remains. Sometimes 
 the thread breaks at the first attempt, but 
 another is wafted on, and once well started it 
 will spin away indefinitely, and at a wonderful 
 speed. The rod, of course, is continually 
 moved forward as it is spun away, so that its 
 point is always in the flame of the blow-pipe. 
 This spun glass is as supple as silk, and all 
 sorts of things are made and woven with it, 
 such as bows, neckties, lamp-shades, table- 
 covers, even whole dresses. 
 
 Opposite Libbey's is the rival establishment 
 of the Venetian glass-makers. The building, 
 with its great arched windows of stained glass, 
 is handsome externally, but within it is but a 
 bare, whitewashed room. But exquisite repro- 
 ductions of antique Venetian originals are 
 made there. 
 
 On the veranda of the Electric Scenic The- 
 atre (which I did not enter) sit a group of Swiss 
 men and girls, who yodel in a delightful man- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 201 
 
 ner at intervals during the day. The girls wear 
 short, full petticoats of bright colors, white 
 chemisettes with short puffed sleeves, and 
 gretchen bodices. Corduroy small - clothes, 
 short jackets and steeple-crowned Tyrolese 
 hats form the men's costume. They are pic- 
 turesque, these mountaineers, and their yodel- 
 ing is so filled with the breath of the moun- 
 tains, with visions of sheer heights and giddy 
 peaks, that perhaps if they yodel long enough 
 the flat prairie will begin to stir and uplift it- 
 self, and Chicago will awake some morning to 
 find itself surrounded with hills. Not that 
 Chicago is entirely without hills even now. I 
 was told that a hill was to be seen within twenty 
 miles of the city, and I went and looked at it. 
 It really was a beautiful hill, big enough to have 
 trees on it. 
 
 In front of the International Costume Ex- 
 hibit are a couple of Highland laddies in plaid 
 and kilt, with bonnets on their heads and dirks 
 at their thighs. Stalwart, ruddy, handsome 
 fellows they are, with a fine carriage and a 
 swing of the shoulders in walking that is good 
 to look at. They have bag-pipes, on which 
 one or the other of them is almost always play- 
 
202 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 ing; and the wild, thrilling music goes skirling 
 over the Plaisance, and draws a crowd about 
 the piper. 
 
 But they are all I saw of the International 
 Costume Exhibit, for I not only felt no inclina- 
 tion to enter the building, but I was told by 
 some one who had been there that it was not 
 worth seeing. 
 
 Between the two divisions of the German 
 Village (one of which you may enter free, while 
 the other costs twenty-five cents) stands a 
 mediaeval castle behind its moat, which is 
 spanned by two draw-bridges. The village 
 proper is on the east of this gray old strong- 
 hold. It comprises a quaint town-hall, sur- 
 rounded by a number of high-shouldered, 
 gabled houses, with projecting upper stories. 
 To the west is the twenty-five-cent region, in- 
 cluding the beer garden and band stand, where 
 two bands play at short intervals during the 
 day. It is just like ten thousand other Ger- 
 man beer gardens all over America. And it 
 lacks the cosiness and bonhommie to be found 
 in Old Vienna ; so when I am in a Germanic 
 mood it is to the latter place that I betake my- 
 self. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 203 
 
 Japan in Midway Plaisance is represented 
 only by a bazar, with some life-size figures 
 dramatically grouped on a balcony over the 
 entrance. But China, in addition to a bazar 
 and restaurant — where you get rice a la Chi- 
 nois, and Chinese pudding with cream, besides 
 American dishes — has a theatre and a Joss- 
 house. 
 
 Their building is odd and yet pretty, mainly 
 blue and red, with butterflies above the win- 
 dows in bright yellow. You enter from the 
 Plaisance, passing between two pagodas con- 
 nected above by a gallery, which in turn is 
 joined to the body of the building, lying some 
 twenty yards back from the Way, by an open 
 arcade. On the gallery between the pagodas 
 are stationed the musicians, or noise-producers, 
 keeping up a constant clang and clash of gongs 
 and cymbals, through the interstices of which 
 penetrate the wild shrieks of pipes or flutes. 
 Now the piping is drowned in a storm of ear- 
 shattering crashes, and anon it rises again tri- 
 umphant above all else. In the occasional 
 lulls of the instrumental music, due I suppose 
 to the temporary exhaustion of the instrumen- 
 tahsts, a voice becomes audible, singing in a, 
 
204 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 high, strained falsetto, the song being as unin- 
 telhgible and as inconsequent as the rest of 
 the performance. 
 
 The doorway itself, at the end of the arcade, 
 is guarded by two hideous gods, with staring 
 eyes, standing in postures which — for anything 
 less than gods — would be violently uncomfort- 
 able. On the left sits a live Chinaman, one of 
 the actors, in robes stiff with gold embroidery, 
 and of colors so magnificent and so richly com- 
 bined, that I marveled never to have seen a 
 combination so obviously celestial before. The 
 first thing I noticed on entering was a dragon 
 with a terrific head and gaping red jaws, its 
 serpentine body twisting in many a sinuous 
 curve a hundred feet around the central hall. 
 It looked as formidable as Vedder's Sea Ser- 
 pent. But I was bound for the theatre ; so I 
 walked on through the bazar, with its lanterns 
 and embroidered silks and resplendent jars — 
 amidst which I looked in vain for the famous 
 five-clawed dragonware, of which I had found 
 some specimens in the Main Building. Pass- 
 ing through the heaped-up wealth and beauty 
 of the bazar, I ascended some steps and found 
 myself in the theatre. The play was on, and 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 205 
 
 there was a fair audience. The back benches 
 were occupied by some Chinamen, following 
 the drama with grave interest. 
 
 The stage was gorgeous with color. Hang- 
 ings, screens and costumes were resplendent 
 with gold embroidery and every beautiful hue 
 under Heaven. Some of the actors wore tall 
 head-dresses sparkling with gold and jewels ; 
 pendants hung down beside their faces. Those 
 dressed as women had their cheeks deeply 
 rouged ; the tints of their dresses were softer 
 than the harmonious splendor of the males. 
 
 I know not, nor does it matter, what the play 
 was about. A King and his Mandarins sat in 
 richly carven chairs and languidly waved fans, 
 listening to a harangue from one of their num- 
 ber, delivered in the strangest voice ever em- 
 ployed by a human being — at least so I thought 
 until I heard the others make their rejoinders 
 in the same astounding squeak. Some women 
 came in, sat down, tea-cups were brought in, 
 there was more talk, and some strange per- 
 formances by the orchestra, which was hidden 
 behind a screen at the back of the stage. 
 Other characters now entered, among them a 
 conjuror, who did some skilful balancing tricks, 
 
2o6 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 and a man with a face painted black and 
 white who appeared to be a poUtician — if it 
 were about pohtics that the King and Manda- 
 rins were arguing. Orders were issued, people 
 came or were dragged on or off, the high- 
 pitched squeaking was kept up, the fans waved, 
 the dresses glowed, no one seemed to get ex- 
 cited. I wonder if this is the way real life goes 
 on among the upper circles of China. All 
 through the performance, two or three ** supes " 
 or stage helpers, who had nothing to do with 
 the play, lounged about at the corners of the 
 stage in common gray and green dresses. At 
 last, all the performers come forward in a bril- 
 liant row and bow to the audience ; and that is 
 all for that evening. I suppose it goes on from 
 that point the next day, and will continue to go 
 on till the Fair closes. 
 
 From the auditorium I went with some others 
 to the Joss-house, where a young Chinaman, 
 whose queue had been cut and who wore 
 American clothes, interpreted the mysteries to 
 us. His English was his own, and was none 
 the less interesting because it was often unin- 
 telligible ; for when I could not understand him, 
 I became all the more fascinated by the ar- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 207 
 
 rangement and pronunciation he imparted to 
 his words. 
 
 The Joss-house, being the Chinese church, 
 contained chiefly gods and goddesses, some 
 large and others but a few inches tall. There 
 was a series of groups representing various 
 post-mortem punishments of wicked persons 
 who had died in their sins. These the China- 
 man would explain : " Him there, Judge. That 
 man, homely man," designating a figure with 
 a black and white face like the stage politician; 
 and he went on to identify the other figures in 
 the group, ending with the unfortunate prisoner 
 who was to be burned, decapitated, torn to 
 pieces with pincers, or tortured in some other 
 picturesque and ghastly fashion. " Him, bad 
 man," said the interpreter. " Him, steal. Him, 
 make face — frighten people. Dead — Hell — 
 all de time ! Burn — cut — like him now." 
 
 We came to a scene representing Heaven ; 
 Chinamen in queues and rich costumes were 
 enjoying themselves in it. " Say, Chinaman 
 cut hair — go to Hell," he said. ** Not true — 
 not true! Chmaman — heart good — go to 
 Heaven ; bad — go to Hell ; hair — no hair — 
 all same !" In naming the abode of the 
 
 15 
 
2o8 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 wicked, he pointed downwards in a realistic 
 manner. 
 
 He showed us circular canopies, mounted on 
 poles like a sort of gigantic parasols, which 
 are held over the heads of high officials ; and 
 a collection of inlaid chairs and dining tables. 
 "In China," he said, "only put people three 
 side table ; servants, four side ; him give tea, 
 meat — help. You — people all sides; we, too— 
 but poor people." 
 
 Some one asked him the price of the tables. 
 He replied that the bazar was the place to 
 make such inquiries. Then he turned to me, 
 who had been following his explanations 
 closely, and remarked with some indignation : 
 " People, ask fool-question. Interrupt. I make 
 lecture — I no sell shop." 
 
 After he had conducted us through the house, 
 he bowed politely, with a wave of the hand. 
 '• So, I finish. Good-night; many thank." As 
 we went down-stairs, I turned, and saw two 
 Chinamen burning incense before the biggest 
 and ugliest of the gods ; probably with the 
 purpose of .purging the temple of the profana- 
 tion of our presence there. 
 
 The Turks, Arabs and other denizens of 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 209 
 
 Midway have caught up some of our slang 
 phrases with avidity, and use them on slight 
 provocation. " Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-aye " is the 
 most often heard, from the most unlikely 
 sources ; it has been selected as the name for 
 one of the little donkeys in Cairo Street ; and 
 it resounds from the bazars, restaurants and 
 dance-houses. But there are other favorites. 
 One day while I was haunting the Algerian 
 bazar, admiring the fascinating contents of the 
 booths, a woman took up a delicious short 
 straight sword in a dark scabbard, which, 
 together with the hilt, was encrusted with 
 cowry-shells, producing a rich and savage 
 effect ; the blade was finely engraved. 
 
 "What does this cost?" she asked the 
 Turkish salesman. 
 
 "It is five dollar." 
 
 " Five dollars," cried the woman, in tones 
 of the wildest amazement. 
 
 " Why, yes, that very cheap," said the Turk, 
 quietly. 
 
 "I saw one just like it in Cairo Street," 
 returned the woman; "shall I tell you what 
 they asked for it .^" 
 
 "Certainment!" 
 
2IO The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 " Fifty cents." 
 
 The Turk looked at her with a slowly gather- 
 ing smile and said as he turned away, " Oh, 
 what a difference in the morning !" 
 
 Many of the visitors seem to have got the 
 notion that most of the Oriental things for sale 
 here are worthless ; and at any rate that the 
 prices put on them are exorbitant. So they 
 buy some common-place American trinket 
 which they can understand and approximately 
 gauge the value of; and they leave on the 
 counter curiosities and works of art such as 
 they will never again have an opportunity of 
 even seeing, much less possessing ; and which 
 would be cheap at any price. They may like 
 them, and want them ; but the fear of being 
 over-reached a few cents prevents them from 
 purchasing them. 
 
XVI. 
 
 There are two sorts of performances at the 
 Algerian Theatre every day. The Nautch 
 girls dance at intervals throughout the day and 
 evening ; and the Tribe of Sidi Ben Aissa give 
 their famous Torture Dance at half-past eight 
 every night. Both performances may be seen 
 the same evening on the same ticket ; but I 
 saw each separately. For I happened to see 
 the Torture Dance first and it made me feel 
 that I must get out in the cool air, and take a 
 long breath, and walk fast. 
 
 The theatre is pretty and comfortable, seat- 
 ing about twelve hundred people. The stage 
 is large, decorated in the same style as that of 
 the Cairo theatre, with hangings and lamps ; 
 and there are three divans : two short ones for 
 the musicians, at right angles to the footlights, 
 at each end, and one long one at the back of 
 the stage, extending its length. 
 
 Before the Aissaous — as the tribe is called — 
 begin their dance, they go in procession to 
 
 21 I 
 
2 1 2 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 their theatre, preceded by two big Nubians 
 supporting banners, and followed by Algerian 
 musicians, whose music is the wildest and 
 shrillest in the Plaisance. 
 
 The Aissaous are nine or ten in number, 
 young Arabs, with their Sheik, a man of mid- 
 dle age. They are clothed in white caftans, 
 blue bordered, and reaching to the knee, with 
 short wide sleeves and sashes about the waist. 
 The Sheik wears a turban ; all the others are 
 bare-headed. They carry drums like large 
 tambourines without bells. 
 
 The procession having arrived at the theatre, 
 the banner bearers enter, but the Aissaous face 
 about under the porch, and lifting their drums 
 begin to play on them rapidly and strongly with 
 their hands, at the same time chanting a wild, 
 sonorous song. This done, they disappear 
 within the doors. 
 
 I waited for them to enter before going in 
 myself. I took a seat near the front. Presently 
 they filed on the stage and seated themselves 
 on the long divan at the back. The Sheik sat 
 in the centre, behind a little inlaid table sup- 
 porting a brazier of brass, filled with live coals. 
 
 The drumming and the deep chant began 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 2 1 3 
 
 again. It is a monotonous yet exciting music, 
 and it made my blood run faster and my breath 
 come hurriedly. 
 
 Suddenly one of the Aissaous leaps to his 
 feet, dropping his drum ; a Nubian woman who 
 has accompanied the Arabs on the stage throws 
 a handful of incense on the coals ; a cloud of 
 smoke anses, and the Aissaou, clasping his 
 hands behind him, swings his head back and 
 forth over the brazier for a few moments, and 
 then begins his dance. 
 
 With his hands still clasped behind his back, 
 or else with his arms swinging loosely at his 
 sides — the muscles of neck and shoulders 
 being "devitalized," as Delsarteans say, so 
 that his head rolls round helplessly — he leaps 
 about the stage, up and down, back and forth, 
 as though he were made of India-rubber. Anon 
 he gives a yell, or inhales more incense, and 
 then goes on dancing. 
 
 Meantime a man who seems to be a master 
 of ceremonies, and who cultivates an unvary- 
 ing smile of calm indifference, has been hand- 
 ing round for inspection by the audience a 
 large thick cactus leaf, covered with very 
 sharp fine spines or needles ; also, half a 
 
214 '^^^^ Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 dozen slender, sharp-pointed spikes of steel. 
 I felt of them, and convinced myself there 
 was no make-believe about them. 
 
 The chanting ceased, but the heavy sound 
 of the drums continued. The young Aissaou 
 began walking restlessly back and forth, turn- 
 ing his head this way and that, and making a 
 hoarse, growhng sound. His eyes did not look 
 like the eyes of a man, but had a fierce, long- 
 ing expression, like a wolf's, and made me feel 
 a restless dread. The Sheik came forward and 
 took the cactus and the spikes from the man in 
 front. The drumming had stopped, too. The 
 dancer came at once towards the Sheik, his 
 eyes fixed on the cactus, his body stretched 
 forward, as if he were about to spring for it. 
 But he passed one side, agam giving that 
 curious, shuddering growl. 
 
 At last he bounded up to the Sheik, and got 
 down beside him on his hands and knees. 
 The Sheik held the cactus towards him, and 
 he bit into it eagerly, taking large mouthfuls 
 of the thorny substances and chewing them as 
 if famished. At times he would bite off so 
 much that some of it would drop from the 
 corners of his slavering lips ; he snatched at 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 2 1 5 
 
 them as they fell with savage snarls. He was 
 not like a human being now, but like a raven- 
 ous wolf or hyena snapping at its prey. The 
 Sheik kept his eyes on him constantly, with a 
 wary air, as he might have watched a wild 
 beast, and restrained him with one hand while 
 he fed him with the other. Once or twice he 
 all but got his fingers bitten. 
 
 All at once the Aissaou turned from the half- 
 eaten cactus and caught up the steel spikes. 
 These he thrust into various parts of his body 
 with grunts of savage pleasure, as if it were 
 his worst enemy he were torturing instead of 
 himself; or perhaps the pain actually did give 
 him delight. He ran the keen points into his 
 legs and arms, through his eyelids, and through 
 his tongue, and walked about with the things 
 dangling and swinging from his flesh. As he 
 passed near the brazier he caught up a red-hot 
 coal and crammed it into his mouth, crunching 
 it between his teeth. 
 
 All at once the drumming and chanting were 
 resumed. He jerked out the spikes ; the Sheik 
 seized him by the elbows and spun him round ; 
 he began to dance again. But it was for a few 
 minutes only ; he reeled over to the Sheik (who 
 
2i6 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 had resumed his place on the divan), kissed 
 him on the turban, and threw himself behind 
 him at full length. I thought that would be the 
 end of him, but in a few minutes he was sitting 
 up and thumping away at his drum with the 
 others, as if nothing had happened. 
 
 I, myself, was beginning to feel queer, how- 
 ever. The music and the heavy incense seemed 
 to sweep round me in bewildering clouds, 
 through which I could discern nothing ex- 
 cept what was being done on the stage, but 
 of that I could lose not the slightest detail, I 
 wished that I had not come there, yet I had no 
 will to go away. I had been unconsciously 
 twisting round my wrist a silk handkerchief, 
 and trying to make it hurt ; but though I 
 found next day that my wrist was badly lamed 
 and swollen, I was not aware of any pain at 
 the time. 
 
 One after another the Aissaous sprang up 
 and danced themselves into a frenzy, in which 
 condition they did hideous and revolting things. 
 One of them ate a live scorpion, slowly and 
 lingeringly, with the relish of a cat playing with 
 and devouring a mouse. Another chewed up 
 and swallowed a glass tumbler, which had pre- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 2 1 7 
 
 viously been broken into pieces on the stage. 
 Another played with a serpent, biting it and 
 allowing it to bite him. Others leaped with 
 their bare feet on sword-blades of razor sharp- 
 ness, stuck daggers in their bodies, and one 
 ran a spike through his cheek from the inside 
 so that the point projected from his face. On 
 this point he hung a handkerchief, which he 
 twitched twice or thrice. His big black eyes 
 seemed to be staring beyond the audience at 
 some thing of nameless horror, invisible to 
 them, but the reflection of which they caught 
 from him. 
 
 The Sheik's performance was the last. After 
 he had danced he thrust the sharp point of a 
 spike into the corner of his right eye, which 
 he forced out clear of the eyelid, keeping it so 
 for a few terrible seconds. Then the spike 
 dropped ; he rubbed his eye a bit, and it was 
 all right once more. No blood, or sign of cut 
 or wound, followed this or any of the tortures. 
 As the Aissaous rose and trooped off the 
 stage, the smiling Master of Ceremonies again 
 came forward, and announced that the Nautch 
 Girls would now give their renowned dances. 
 But I got up and left the theatre. The night 
 
2i8 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 was a lovely one ; the moon, nearly full, shone 
 peacefully on the Plaisance and its moving 
 crowds ; on the white-domed theatre, and on 
 the gigantic Ferris Wheel, hanging motionless 
 in the sky. 
 
 But through the open door and windows of 
 the theatre the heavy perfume of the incense 
 still came stealing after me, as if to lure me 
 back. It floated round me in the cool night 
 air ; I shook myself free from it, and walked 
 away beyond the reach of its spell. 
 
 All the dancing girls in the Plaisance — ex- 
 cept those of Java and Samoa — are called 
 Nautch girls. But since the original Nautch 
 girls are from India, and there happen to be 
 no Indian dancers here, it seems as if the word 
 must be misapplied. I discovered, however, 
 that Nautch is simply the East Indian word for 
 Dancer ; so if the meaning alone be regarded, 
 it is right enough. It is curious, however, that 
 none of the original Nautch Girls are at the 
 World's Fair. 
 
 The girls at the Algerian Theatre, whom I 
 went to see another day, are of several varie- 
 ties, so far as nationahty and costume are con- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 219 
 
 cerned. There are two Bedouins, two or three 
 Turks, one or two Circassians and a Nubian — 
 the same motherly old creature who looks after 
 the Aissaous, and whose black face is really 
 handsome (in a Nubian way), with a sweet ex- 
 pression on her broad features. Such as they 
 are, they sit on the long divan of the Algerian 
 Theatre and dance, in their several fashions, 
 one after another, or sometimes two at once. 
 
 The dances are all substantially the same ; 
 they are all the Danse du Ventre, with minor 
 additions or variations. One of the girls, while 
 dancing, holds in her hand a little mirror, and 
 goes through the motions of the toilet — pow- 
 dering her pretty face, darkening her lashes 
 with kohl, and glancing coquettishly from the 
 glass to the audience ; all the while keeping up 
 the undulations of the dance. Then she drops 
 the mirror and proceeds to anoint the palms 
 of her hands and her finger-tips with red henna, 
 which is a universal decoration among these 
 Oriental women, and looks very like blood. 
 Some of the men use it also. The pretty 
 dancer next arranges the rings on her fingers, 
 and the bracelets on her arms, turning her 
 hands and wrists about and contemplating 
 
220 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 them with entire self-complacency. She wears 
 ankle-bangles, too, but she does not arrange 
 them ; they jingle as she treads. She is dressed 
 in balloon-shaped trousers of rich colors, and a 
 short embroidered vest. Her velvet and satin 
 slippers turn up at the toes, and she wears 
 crimson silk stockings. 
 
 The two Bedouins dance differently from the 
 rest, and from each other, too. One of them 
 gives the sword dance ; she has two scimitars, 
 and she whirls about, resting their points 
 against her breast, against the pit of her 
 stomach, and upon the lids of her eyes. The 
 other wears a shimmering green dress — a sort 
 of loose caftan, belted round the waist — and 
 chains of gold sequins hanging from each side 
 of her head-dress and passing beneath her 
 chin ; this dark-eyed and dusky-skinned little 
 creature has a complete command of the char- 
 acteristic Nautch movements ; and also makes 
 the strange, sidewise, snake-like movement of 
 the head on the neck more strikingly than any 
 other dancer I have seen. While the Bedouins 
 are dancing, it is the Nubian musicians, on the 
 right hand of the stage, who furnish the music, 
 pounding on big drums, and shrilling on pipes. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 221 
 
 Stringed instruments and hand-drums accom- 
 pany the other dancers. 
 
 Finally, out comes the old Nubian woman — 
 who is not so old, after all, but who has a 
 stout and solid aspect — and makes a salaam to 
 the audience. She has a great deal of dignity, 
 though she laughs good-naturedly, and is as 
 jolly as one of our own Plantation darkies. 
 Her dance is of the simplest description ; she 
 hops up and down, and spins round a few 
 times on her stocking feet, which are large and 
 flat, and look all the larger because the stock- 
 ings are white. Two male Nubians then ap- 
 pear and dance, too, whirling about in a 
 crouching attitude, bounding in the air, and 
 keeping up a great clattering with enormous 
 castanets. The only remaining musician — the 
 two other men being now dancers — bangs on 
 his drum with three-fold vigor, and yells in a 
 frenzied manner, grinning to the full extent of 
 his enormous jaws, and showing such a double 
 row of snow-white teeth as were never before 
 seen in this country, I am sure. This man has 
 a strong sense of humor ; and can make such 
 faces as Gustave Dore would have rejoiced to 
 behold. 
 
XVII. 
 
 The Nautch girls in the Persian Palace are 
 the prettiest in the Plaisance, and the joUiest; 
 some of them are very fair — as blonde as any 
 Saxon. I suppose they must be Circassians ; 
 but it is impossible to find out ; the only thing 
 you can be quite sure of is, that none of them 
 are Chicagoans, or Americans of any kind. 
 They are beautiful in form, as well as face — 
 slender and graceful ; and they are quite 
 small ; the tallest is not over five feet three 
 inches in height. 
 
 Their costumes are lovely. They keep their 
 arms and necks bare ; their short embroidered 
 jackets are worn over silken underwaists ; the 
 skirts are light and rather full. On their heads 
 are little round caps, worn tipped on one side 
 like British soldiers', while their long hair floats 
 over their shoulders. While dancing they 
 hold in their hands a silken scarf, or some- 
 times two, which they wave gracefully ; and 
 they move round the little stage with a light- 
 
 222 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 223 
 
 some and elastic movement, swaying their wide 
 hips from side to side, and undulating their 
 slender waists. When the girls have danced, 
 two youths, who have been thumping hand- 
 drums, get up and do a sword-dance, swinging 
 and stamping about vigorously, and with a 
 grace, too, that is almost feminine. One of them 
 exactly resembles the picture (in my edition of 
 the Arabian Nights) of the Persian Prince, who 
 flies away on a magic horse, the speed of 
 which is regulated by turning a peg in his 
 neck. 
 
 Down-stairs, in a large room by themselves, 
 are the Persian Wrestlers. 
 
 The room is arranged like an old-fashioned 
 cock-pit. The pit in the centre is about four- 
 teen feet in diameter and three feet deep ; its 
 bottom is clay. The spectators sit on chairs 
 surrounding this in ranks raised one above the 
 other. At one side is a space curtained off for 
 the performers to dress and rest in ; just out- 
 side this, with a brazier of live coals in front of 
 him, sits the wrinkled little musician who plays 
 a hand-drum all the time with such astonishing 
 vigor that he seems to be working harder than 
 any of the athletes^ and the perspiration pours 
 J6 
 
224 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 down his face and bare chest in unending 
 streams. Once in awhile he stops a moment 
 to throw upon the coals a handful of a sort of 
 vegetable gum, which burns with a fragrant 
 smoke, something like the incense that the 
 Aissaous use. 
 
 Over the drummer's head hang three bronze 
 bells. He lifts his hand and strikes one of 
 these a smart blow. Instantly the curtain parts 
 and out step six men, naked from the loins up, 
 and from the knees down. Their small-clothes, 
 their only garment, are made of leather cov- 
 ered with a fine pattern of red and blue em- 
 broidery. Their black hair is shaved above 
 the ears, so that it sets on the top of the head 
 like a cap. 
 
 One of these men is short, stout and old ; 
 his hair is gray. Another is tall and thin, and 
 his hair is reduced to a single top-knot. A 
 third is small, and not remarkable in any way. 
 But the other three men are models of physical 
 strength and beauty. Their chests are deep, 
 their shoulders wide, and their arms powerful; 
 all down their backs are splendid masses of 
 muscle, which swell out and subside as they 
 move. They are very different from any of 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 225 
 
 our athletes ; they seem more supple and elas- 
 tic, and their strength seems to come to them 
 naturally, instead of being scientifically ac- 
 quired. Their bodies are more like those of 
 the antique Greek statues than are those of our 
 white gymnasts. 
 
 Their whole performance is peculiar, and, as 
 the placard over the door says, unlike anything 
 ever shown in this country. 
 
 They begin by taking, each of them, a bit of 
 wood three feet long and as many inches wide, 
 to the under side of which are fastened two 
 cleats about four inches high. They put these 
 down on the clay floor of the pit, grasp them 
 at either end with their hands, separate their 
 legs almost at right angles, with only their toes 
 touching the ground. Their heads, of course, 
 are all towards the centre of the pit, and their 
 bodies radiate outwards. 
 
 They now begin to lower and raise them- 
 selves by bending the arms, sometimes going 
 straight up and down, as on the parallel bars, 
 sometimes hurling their bodies more to the 
 right or the left, striking their chests against 
 the bar, and twisting their great shoulders till 
 the rounded muscles seem to start through the 
 
226 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 skin. One of them — the strongest and hand- 
 somest — sometimes does this, supporting him- 
 self on one hand only, the other being held 
 behind his back. 
 
 Again the drummer strikes his bell. 
 
 The athletes rise, lay aside their bars, and 
 each selects a pair of Indian Clubs from a row 
 of them in front of the tent. I lifted one of 
 these, and it seemed to weigh fifty pounds ; but 
 I believe it really is not half so much. 
 
 Standing in a circle round the pit, they 
 swing these clubs round their heads, and then 
 one after another steps into the centre and does 
 some special act. One of the big ones throws 
 the heaviest pair whirling high in the air, 
 catching them neatly by the handles as they 
 come down. Now and then he misses, how- 
 ever, and once he came near dropping a club 
 on the head of a certain quick little chap — 
 perhaps the best all-round gymnast of them 
 all — and startled him excessively. This little 
 one is himself extraordinarily expert with a 
 lighter pair of clubs, which he keeps whirling 
 in the air all about him and over him, so that 
 the eye can scarcely see him touch them, but 
 they have always just been thrown. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 227 
 
 The club act concluded, they dance together 
 and separately, while the little drummer beats 
 away on his drum with ever-growing energy 
 and perspiration. It is not much of a dance — 
 a sliding hop on one foot, then on the other, a 
 waving of the arms, and now and then a spring 
 in the air, turning completely round before 
 coming down again. Then one of them takes 
 a huge iron bow, with a heavy slack chain at- 
 tached to it in place of a string, the whole 
 weighing perhaps thirty pounds. He raises it 
 above his head with both hands, and swings it 
 forcibly to and fro. Meanwhile, the others 
 withdraw from the ring ; and at the clang of 
 the bell, the two who have been matched to 
 wrestle with each other leap down into the pit 
 and begin to circle round each other, watching 
 for an opening. 
 
 Suddenly one of them leaps in ; but the 
 other was ready for him, and they break away 
 again. This happens several times, until at 
 last they get the hold they want, and the 
 struggle is on. It is a stirring sight, if the two 
 be well matched. They twine about each 
 other, one hold slipping into another, the 
 muscles of their backs and arms standing out 
 
228 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 with the strain and again subsiding ; and soon 
 they are glistening all over with sweat. They 
 begin to pant and gasp ; there are short, in- 
 tense pauses of effort ; fierce, quick turnings 
 and clutchings, and another motionless mo- 
 ment of strain. At last, by a herculean heave, 
 or a sudden, clever twist, one gets the better of 
 the tussle and lays his adversary on his back. 
 Then they rise, touch their foreheads together, 
 and retire behind the curtain to rest. 
 
 Here follows an act, generally performed by 
 the stout, elderly man. The curtains of the tent 
 are drawn aside, and he is discovered lying on 
 his back within, holding in his hand what can 
 only be described as a pair of massive wooden 
 doors. They are oblong frameworks of solid 
 oak, about four feet long by three feet wide, 
 and weighing some forty pounds each. In the 
 centre of each is a square aperture six inches 
 across, with an iron bar through it, which 
 serves as a handle to hold the thing by. Of 
 course, they are very awkward things to 
 handle, not only on account of their weight, as 
 because they so easily fall out of balance. 
 
 Nevertheless, the old man, lying on his back, 
 keeps putting up his doors, at the same time 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 'I'lg 
 
 hitching himself along the floor in the direc- 
 tion of the pit. Meanwhile, one of his fellows 
 (the little drummer takes a well-earned rest as 
 soon as the wrestling begins) addresses him in 
 a sort of sing-song monologue, which I should 
 think would be to the last degree exasperating ; 
 but I suppose it must encourage the old man 
 somehow. After a long time of wriggling and 
 hitching, he at last gets his legs over the sides 
 of the pit, drops into it, stands erect, and whirls 
 round and round, using the doors to add to his 
 impetus. As he slows down, his companion 
 steps up and steadies him, and takes away the 
 doors, and the performance, so far as the Per- 
 sians are concerned, is over. 
 
 But at one time the Persians were followed 
 by one of the make-believe European Sam- 
 sons or Strong Men. His business was snap- 
 ping chains, bending bars, and talking — and 
 in the latter way, if in no other, he certainly 
 earned his salary. " Ladees and gent'men," 
 he says, in a high, metallic voice, "you have 
 heard dat Clumbus, he discover America; 
 well, I discover strenk ! My strenk is more 
 dan any sixteen strongest men in dis audi- 
 ence. I have here a wiah rope, dat hold up 
 
230 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 about fifteen or t'irty thousand pound ; I give 
 one honderd dollars if any sixteen strongest 
 men in dis audience break it ; I iust snap dat 
 chain by the expansion of my chist. I will now 
 show you how I bend dis iyon bar. Dis bar, 
 ladees and gent'men, is iyon bar ; I give one 
 honderd dollars to any men in dis audience 
 dat can bend dis bar ; I bend dis bar iust by 
 striking it on de muscle of my arm. My fad- 
 der," he continues, " was a Russian ; my mud- 
 der, she was a Persian ; so I am half Persian. 
 Now, ladees and gent'men, dis concludes the 
 performance ; but, as de audience passes out, 
 any ladee or gent'man may feel of my iyon 
 muscle free of expense. You see, I do not 
 make my muscle be hard ; it is hard all de 
 time." 
 
 The whole affair is the most transparent 
 humbug. The iron bar is a piece of lead 
 piping ; the chains are furnished with a leaden 
 link, which comes apart with the slightest pres- 
 sure ; and the steel rope is all but filed in two 
 near one end. The man himself may be a 
 Russian ; he was so described in the ten-cent 
 show on the Avenue outside the grounds, where 
 he performed before coming here ; but he is so 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 2 3 1 
 
 little of a Persian (though he furnished himself 
 with a conical Persian cap of Astrachan) that 
 he is obliged to communicate with the real 
 Persians by signs. The latter, who are as in- 
 nocent as children, at first supposed him to be 
 the genuine marvel that he claimed to be ; but 
 after awhile they found him out, and then it 
 was funny to see their ill-concealed contempt 
 for him. But he is the only "fake" that I 
 have seen in the whole Fair, and is, therefore, 
 quite as much of a curiosity as anything else. 
 One of his most absurd acts is to fit a small 
 chain over the biceps of his right arm, and 
 then say, "Now, I show you how I make all 
 my strenk go into my one arm out of my body ; 
 you watch how I do." He holds out his arm 
 and works the muscle up and down for a min- 
 ute or two ; then he suddenly contracts it, and 
 the chain — I cannot say snaps, but — comes 
 apart, leaving not even a red mark on the skin. 
 "You see, I break dat chain across my iyon 
 muscle ; I am de strongest man in de woild ; 
 you have heard of me before : I am stronger 
 dan any sixteen men ; Clumbus, he discover 
 America ; but I — I discover strenk ! " 
 
xviii. 
 
 In the Plaisance, as in the geographies, 
 Turkey is not far from Persia ; and I cross 
 over from the latter to the former. On the 
 western extremity of the village stands the 
 white mosque with its arched doorway, through 
 which is visible the handsome interior. This 
 mosque is a reproduction of that of the Sultan 
 Selin. The floor is covered with white matting, 
 over which are strewn fine prayer-rugs ; the 
 shrine is to the east, beautifully decorated with 
 rich Eastern ornament ; pierced and chased 
 lamps of brass hang from the ceiling ; recep- 
 tacles of glass half filled with water, on which 
 floats sweet oil and a burning wick. These 
 lamps give a soft, steady light. 
 
 As I leaned against the raihng in front of 
 the entrance steps, where two or three Turks 
 are always on the watch to prevent infidels 
 from entering, a woman and her escort came 
 up behind me. Within, before the shrine, a 
 Moslem was even then prostrated, worshipping 
 
 232 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 233 
 
 Allah after his own fashion. The woman 
 looked at him a moment, and then burst into a 
 laugh. 
 
 " Why, do look at that horrid creature !'* she 
 exclaimed, in a most penetrating voice; "he 
 acts like he really thought his heathen prayers 
 would do him any good ! How funny he does 
 look. Look at him — he seems to mean it, 
 don't he!" 
 
 I withdrew hastily, fervently hoping that 
 none of the Turks within ear-shot understood 
 English. If they did, they must have formed 
 curious ideas of Christianity and American 
 breeding. 
 
 To the left of the mosque is a building at 
 the door of which an American whooper-in 
 implores you not to miss the chance of a life- 
 time to see the Original Persian War Tent, be- 
 longing to the Shah of Persia, Four Hun- 
 dr-r-r-red year-r-rs old, and completely cov- 
 ered with embroideries of gold and silver. 
 "Also, the solid silver Bedstead — " — another 
 flood of description — " and the Harem of a 
 Turkish Bey." 
 
 This Harem, after you have paid your 
 twenty-five cents to see it, is discovered to be 
 
234 ^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 nothing more than the empty receptacle, which 
 may once have contained the human part of 
 the Harem, namely, four rugs hung up on the 
 sides of a square. There appears to be an 
 ambiguity about the word " Harem;" like our 
 "church," it may mean the people or it may 
 mean the place. 
 
 Near the whooper-in stands a wonderful ob- 
 ject. It is a man, short, stout and brawny ; he 
 is called the " Great Zeibeck ;" but to my com- 
 panion and myself he was known privately as 
 •* The Walking Arsenal." On the background, 
 or groundwork, of a costume somewhat resem- 
 bling the Highland dress — though baggy white 
 trousers take the place of the graceful kilt — 
 bristles an array of knives, swords and pistols 
 enough to furnish forth a whole company of or- 
 dinary warriors. The handles and hilts stick 
 out of him everywhere, peep over his shoulders, 
 and emerge from under his short jacket. This 
 man was a mighty fighter in the late Russo- 
 Turkish war, and wears medals on his breast. 
 But now, his proper occupation being gone, he 
 poses here at the door of a twenty-five-cent 
 show, in his old war-trappings, with his bare 
 fat knees, upholding, with perspiring dignity, 
 all those instruments of death. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 235 
 
 It never occurred to me that any creature 
 merely human could more than once — and 
 then by some lucky chance only — have piled 
 upon himself so preposterous an arsenal. One 
 evening, however, it happened to me to surprise 
 him in ordinary European attire. The meta- 
 morphosis, by some wicked fairy, of a gallant 
 prince into a burrowing mole was nothing be- 
 side this transformation, which the Great Zei- 
 beck had himself wrought. He was human 
 after all, and comfort, scorned of devils, was 
 evidently not displeasing to him. 
 
 The Turkish Bazar is a long, one-storied 
 building, with a broad aisle running its length, 
 and a short one crossing it in the centre. It is 
 decorated with rugs and silks and carved wood 
 panels ; the continuous rows of booths are filled 
 with all manner of lovely things — shawls, 
 yards of marvelous embroidery on silk and 
 gauze, fezes, plain and worked with gold, some 
 having tassels two feet long; pipes, nargiles; 
 in one booth sausages and home-made pies of 
 American aspect can be had ; cigarettes, man- 
 ufactured while you wait by four or five Turkish 
 men and girls, who sit all day long rolling 
 them and putting them in red, white and yellow 
 
236 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 boxes. One of these girls was pretty, and her 
 appeals to " come buy nice Turkish cigarette " 
 were most winning. She could speak English 
 pretty well, and told me that before her arrival 
 here three months before she knew not a word. 
 In the centre space, where the aisles inter- 
 sect, stands a funny little fire engine. It is 
 graceful in shape and decoration, as all things 
 Oriental are. It consists of a small square box 
 supported on two long poles, the ends of which 
 emerging serve as handles to carry it by. 
 When an alarm of fire is sounded four Turks, 
 and as many others as circumstances will 
 admit, seize these handles and are off on a 
 gallop, surrounded and followed by a crowd all 
 yelling at the top of their lungs. They are 
 always ambitious to put out some fire w^ith their 
 comical little apparatus ; but run and yell as 
 they would, the American firemen always hap- 
 pened to have got there and extinguished it 
 before their arrival. One day, however, they 
 did succeed in reaching Old Vienna in time, 
 and they squirted their tiny stream of water 
 with great promptness and intrepidity. The 
 fire was restricted to one small booth, but the 
 Turks extinguished everything in the neighbor- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 237 
 
 hood, including all the spectators and half a 
 dozen unoffending shops. It was a glorious 
 day for the Sublime Porte. 
 
 Behind the bazar is a row of plain houses in 
 which the salesmen dwell. They are flat-roofed, 
 with small windows protected by carved wood 
 casements. In the narrow doorways lounge 
 sedan-chair bearers off duty ; and once in a 
 while a dancing-girl from the theatre in shining 
 silk and heavy ankle-bangles, with a shawl 
 over her head, slips in. The women here sel- 
 dom wear the yashmak ; their faces are uncov- 
 ered. 
 
 One day while I loitered in the bazar admir- 
 ing the beautiful things for the twentieth time, 
 a young Turk rushed up to the counter where 
 I had just been standing. Snatching up a 
 small inlaid box, he addressed the girl behind 
 the counter in a shrill, feminine voice: "Oh, 
 ain't this real elegant ? Mama, do come here ! 
 Look at that ; ain't it just too sweet for any- 
 thing ? Say, how much is this ? One dollar ? 
 No, thanks ! not to-day ; but airi t it elegant, 
 mama ? Some other time, thanks !" 
 
 After this take-off, with a side glance to see 
 whether I had appreciated it, he sauntered 
 
238 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 away. He ought to have been an actor in the 
 neighboring theatre, for it was an admirable 
 little performance ; voice, expression and words 
 were all the image of the reality, which was 
 very common in the bazar and elsewhere. 
 
 Adjoining the Harem and Silver-Bed exhibit 
 is a large room in which rugs are shown. 
 There are hundreds if not thousands of them, 
 of all varieties and degrees of beauty. They 
 are rolled up in bales, they hang from frames, 
 they are spread out on the floor ; such colors 
 and patterns only Oriental looms can create. 
 Some are of immense size ; others so small that 
 they might serve to cover a tea-table ; but these 
 are the silken prayer-rugs, and are more ex- 
 pensive than any ; one, about four feet long, 
 was valued at six thousand dollars. Possibly 
 its sanctity — for it was an ancient as well as a 
 beautiful piece of work — may have added to 
 the price. Who knows what prayers may have 
 gone heavenward from it ! 
 
 At the head of the room hangs an oil paint- 
 ing by an artist called O. Hamdy Bey. It 
 represents the door of the Muradieh mosque, 
 in Broussa — a superb subject, well rendered ; 
 the color is brilHant and warm, and the compo- 
 sition is effective, 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 239 
 
 When I got tired of standing about the 
 bazars, I went into the theatre and sat down. 
 
 The play given here contains a love-story 
 and some exciting adventures, followed by 
 a number of dances. 
 
 Kamina, daughter of the rich Arab Fayyad, 
 is sought in marriage by her cousin Hassan ; 
 but Fayyad will not hear of it. A sudden flood 
 of disasters, however, overwhelms the stern 
 father, and Hassan is instrumental in rescuing 
 him from them ; in gratitude for which the 
 marriage is permitted. It is not a strikingly 
 original plot, perhaps ; but the manner of its 
 presentation is unlike anything ever seen on 
 our stage. 
 
 A group of Kurds are eating Zalahbia and 
 drinking out of gourds. One of them is spin- 
 ning with a small machine which he operates 
 with his hands. Another weaves a stocking ; 
 each has some occupation. They begin to 
 sing, and three of the younger ones link arms 
 and skip slowly across the stage and back 
 again. Suddenly, in bursts Hassan as the 
 rejected lover, relating his woes. After much 
 violent speech and gesticulation, they all gather 
 up their belongings and exeunt. 
 
 17 • 
 
240 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 In a tent, with rugs and muskets, sits Fayyad 
 in a long robe, sash and turban, with a volumi- 
 nous beard. Before him as he squats cross- 
 legged, stand Zahra and Kamina, his wife and 
 daughter, in Turkish trousers and bodices, and 
 the short Oriental jacket. Fayyad berates 
 them soundly, and at length starts to his feet 
 and makes a dive at Kamina ; but Zahra inter- 
 poses and tries to soothe him. 
 
 Wild shouts are heard, and in rush a throng 
 of Bedouin robbers waving swords and daggers. 
 They strip Fayyad to his shirt, even taking his 
 turban ; and rush yelling out, carrying with 
 them the entire contents of the tent, including 
 Zahra and Kamina. Fayyad tears his beard, 
 remonstrates, and attempts to resist ; but the 
 robbers threaten him with their scimitars, and 
 he sinks despairing to the ground. 
 
 To Fayyad, thus crumpled up, enter Hassan ; 
 there is more wild talk and gesticulation ; Has- 
 san will rescue the women and bring the thieves 
 to justice ; off he goes to collect his friends. He 
 comes back with them in a couple of seconds ; 
 Fayyad points the way the robbers went, and 
 the others are off with yells in pursuit. 
 
 A few old men and women, Job's comforters, 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 241 
 
 come to sit and condole with Fayyad ; they 
 groan and rock for a minute or two, when back 
 comes victorious Hassan with the women, the 
 rest of the stolen property and the robbers, 
 their hands bound. Fayyad loses no time in 
 resuming his garments, fetching the thieves 
 hearty whacks as he does so, especially the one 
 who has on his turban. 
 
 All is now rejoicing ; Hassan and Kamina 
 are betrothed, the three young Kurds skip up 
 and down the stage once more, and then the 
 entire company — except the robbers, who have 
 gone out to be strangled — sit in a row and 
 watch the dances. 
 
 An Albanian, with a very full white skirt, 
 dances with an Albanian girl, whirling about, 
 striking attitudes, advancing and retreating. 
 Then a pretty girl called Rosa, dances the 
 Turkish or Constantinople dance — the regular 
 Danse du Ventre. Another girl, tall, straight 
 and slender, comes on, and — keeping the upper 
 part of her body motionless — rotates her hips 
 as if they belonged to a separate organism. 
 Finally, Rosa reappears, and the performance 
 ends with her revolving, after the manner of 
 the Dancing Dervishes, for full ten minutes, 
 
242 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 spinning round faster and faster towards the 
 end, and bowing at the conclusion with no 
 signs of either fatigue or dizziness. 
 
 As the curtain goes down, a Turk walks up 
 the middle aisle, calling out that whoever came 
 in after the play began may remain and see 
 the whole thing over again. As I walk out, I 
 pass the Clergyman, who is just finishing his 
 ** little speech," and adding that the perform- 
 ance is now about to begin. 
 
XIX. 
 
 The Bedouin Camp is next door to the 
 Turkish Theatre ; the woman who takes my 
 ticket r^t the entrance is clad in a flowing 
 black robe, and a head-dress that conceals 
 her mouth, but not her flashing eyes, which 
 are blacker than her dress. 
 
 Upon entering I find myself in an open 
 court, on the right of which are two Bedouin 
 tents, and on the left is a small building con- 
 taining the Damascus Room. 
 
 To the left of the tents are the remains of a 
 fire, a huge bronze bowl, and a small moun- 
 tain of coffee-grounds. Muskets stand at the 
 door, and a few hand-drums and some pipes. 
 In one of the tents sit a couple of Arabs in 
 burnouses, gravely smoking ; in the other tent 
 an old woman is making Bedouin bread. Over 
 the brightly burning fire is what looks like an in- 
 verted iron bowl, on which the woman spreads a 
 thin layer of dough with her hands, and almost 
 instantly peels it off again, crisp and appetizing. 
 
 243 
 
244 1^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 Other women and men sit outside the tents, 
 playing on drums and singing. Three or four 
 girls walk round in time to the music, and once 
 in awhile clap their hands and sway from side 
 to side. One of these girls is a little beauty. 
 She cannot be over twelve ; her eyes are large 
 and dark, and her black hair waves over her 
 shoulders. Her arms and feet are bare, her 
 only dress being a straight, simple robe, fast- 
 ened round her waist with a sash. Necklaces 
 and armlets sparkle on her dark skin, and 
 jingle to her movements. Pretty and wild, 
 with the straight features of the Arab, and 
 lithe, untamed gestures, she is not the least 
 interesting sight on Midway. 
 
 Very different from all this is the Room of 
 the Damascus Palace on the other side of the 
 court. Its length is more than twice its 
 breadth ; the ends of the room are raised a 
 foot or so above the central part, in which is 
 a fountain basin. The southern division is 
 fitted with a divan running along the walls ; 
 It is low and wide and covered with silken 
 cushions ; a thick rug lies on the floor. The 
 walls of the entire apartment are hung with 
 embroideries and tapestries, wonderful in the 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 245 
 
 rich softness of their hues. Above these hang- 
 ings is a frieze of Meshrebie work, and the 
 lofty ceihng is draped with stuffs. The win- 
 dows are high up, between the frieze and the 
 ceiling ; they are crossed with metal bars, and 
 translucent curtains of fine wool admit a sub- 
 dued, mellow light. Against the tapestries are 
 suspended fine shirts of chain mail, helmets, 
 Damascus swords and spears ; lamps of brass 
 and bronze hang from the ceiling Three or 
 four graceful vases stand about, and there are 
 a few low seats in addition to the divans. 
 
 A soft-voiced young Damascan explains 
 things to the visitors, telling us just what we 
 want to know, and then answering questions. 
 He keeps repeating "in my country," with a 
 delicious inflection of gentle pride. He asks 
 the visitors to sit on the divan, and it is de- 
 lightful to recline on the soft cushions and 
 think of Haroun Al Raschid, and the One- 
 Eyed Calender, and Ali Baba ; and to hold 
 between your fingers the slender twisted tube 
 of a nargileh — there are half a dozen of them 
 standing about — and listen to the story of 
 Damascus, and contemplate the rich, softly- 
 lighted space, with the fountain in the midst, 
 
246 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 and to fancy yourself living in the golden 
 prime of the great Oriental monarch. 
 
 From Damascus I went to the cafe Chantant 
 in Constantinople. The severe young Moslem 
 in the purple robe was just announcing the 
 commencement of the performance. The jovial 
 Albanian was not at the moment on duty, to 
 cheer on hesitating souls with his hearty voice 
 and enthusiastic hand-clapping. Up I go, 
 nevertheless, and take a seat near the stage, 
 where a Turk brings me a cup of sweet, un- 
 strained Turkish coffee. I have learned to be 
 very fond of this coffee smce I first came to 
 the Plaisance. 
 
 The stage is empty ; but by and by the musi- 
 cians come in and climb up on the stage, and 
 sit down cross-legged on the divan, and get to 
 work with their hand-drums, and pipes, and 
 tambourines ; and now, one after the other, the 
 dancing-girls follow. 
 
 They are dressed in different ways. Some 
 have on balloon-like trousers and embroidered 
 vests ; some wear long woolen robes of a red- 
 dish-brown color, girdled around the waist. 
 One of them — a Jewess by her features — is a 
 very beautiful, but melancholy-looking, young 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 247 
 
 woman ; she is the Prima Donna Assoluta, as 
 we should say — an excellent dancer and a good 
 singer (in the Turkish style). She takes her 
 place between the divans, in a handsome 
 carved and inlaid chair ; she slips her little feet 
 out of the curious inlaid wooden sandals or 
 pattens (with supports six inches high) and 
 rests them on a foot-rest, resembling a small 
 folding clothes-horse, made of the same dark 
 wood as the chair and similarly ornamented. 
 
 Nobody is in the least in a hurry ; there is a 
 languorous, unceremonious atmosphere over 
 everything. The Jewess takes up a drum and 
 begins dreamily to thrum upon it ; the other 
 girls, follow her example, using either drums or 
 tambourines ; but the pipes and flutes are played 
 only by the men. They all sing the chanting, 
 endless song, that sounds so strange in Western 
 ears until we get used to it, and then nothing 
 pleases us more. Meanwhile, they carry on a 
 desultory conversation with one another, and 
 sometimes smile at an acquaintance in the 
 audience. They are like a big lazy family, 
 with nothing in the world to do except sing, 
 dance, play and amuse themselves and us. 
 
 The stage is small, decorated, much in the 
 
248 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 style of all the other Oriental theatres, with 
 rugs and draperies, on which are fixed cross- 
 wise Turkish pipes with enormously long stems, 
 and scimitars and poniards. A couple of the 
 pretty carved and inlaid tables stand at the 
 ends of the platform ; and between the dances 
 the attendant comes and places on these a 
 glass of sherbet for the girls to sip. 
 
 One of the girls, perhaps sixteen years old, 
 is very graceful and pretty, with a lithe, slender 
 figure, and thick, curly, brown hair, tumbling 
 about her face and escaping down her shoul- 
 ders. Her eyes are large, brown and softly 
 bright ; her movements of wrist and fingers in 
 playing the hand-drum are delicious, and she 
 throws back her head and sings with all her 
 heart and soul. 
 
 The dancing here has its differences from 
 that in the other places, though the principle is 
 the same. The dancers make their breasts 
 move and undulate, and the young girl I have 
 mentioned gives the snake motion of the head, 
 smiUng with sparkling eyes. After the undu- 
 lating movement they spring sideways, holding 
 their hands before their faces, with the fingers 
 intertwined, and snapping them with a peculiar 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 249 
 
 soft sound ; they also use the castanets. The 
 Jewess, in her dance, sometimes kneels down, 
 and bends forwards, moving her shoulders 
 back and forth ; then she bends far backwards, 
 with outstretched arms, clapping the castanets. 
 She is a beautiful dancer; but through it all 
 she maintains her grave, ennuied air, and 
 barely smiles sometimes when the applause is 
 very enthusiastic. 
 
 Suddenly in rushes the Albanian. He springs 
 up on the stage, snatches a tambourine from 
 one of the girls, and begins to play upon it with 
 a great flourish. The Jewess is dancing; he 
 contemplates her with his head on one side, as 
 much as to say. Isn't she ineffable ! — and, as 
 she bends backwards, he reaches over her and 
 shakes the tambourine above her head, laugh- 
 ing. Now she bends forward again, moving 
 her shoulders and bosom ; and then springs to 
 her feet, while the Albanian gives an encour- 
 aging shout, and strikes up a livelier air. 
 
 Two minutes after he has come in all the 
 girls are smiling, and the male musicians are 
 grinning from ear to ear — all but the Jewess, 
 who maintains her bored and weary expression, 
 as though all this seemed to her a foolish and 
 idle dream. 
 
250 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 As the dancing goes on, the Albanian turns 
 and appeals to the audience : " Ecc utiful danc- 
 ing 1 Nice young ladies — fine — fine young 
 ladies!" and applauds with contagious enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 In the midst of the performance one of the 
 girls came in, leading by the hand a wild-look- 
 ing old man, whom she placed on a chair close 
 to the stage and left there. He had flowing 
 gray hair and a long gray beard ; bushy eye- 
 brows overhung his beady eyes ; his body was 
 thin and bent and clad in a suit of rusty black. 
 He kept on his head the wide-brimmed hat 
 which he had on when he entered ; and grasp- 
 ing his cane with both bony hands, he leaned 
 his sharp chin on them and glared at the danc- 
 ing without moving until the entire perform- 
 ance was over. Then he arose and shuffled 
 out, leaving untasted the glass of sherbet which 
 the attendant had put on the table beside him. 
 He looked like the grandfather of Anarchy. 
 
 Another man, of fashionable and debonair 
 aspect, had come in escorting two ladies. He 
 asked the Turk in waiting some question about 
 the Jewess. The Turk answered (the conver- 
 sation was carried on in French) that the 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 251 
 
 Jewess spoke no language but Turkish. He 
 beckoned to her, however, and she got up from 
 her little throne and came down to the foot- 
 hghts. 
 
 The gentleman and the two ladies also went 
 forward, and they examined the jewelry which 
 she wore in great profusion. She, with her in- 
 different expression, held out first one arm and 
 then the other, that they might see and touch 
 the heavy golden bracelets ; she held out her 
 foot while they admired the bangles on her 
 ankles, and bent forward that they might scru- 
 tinize the jewelled chains that hung over her 
 bosom. The gentleman asked her many ques- 
 tions through the Turk, who acted as inter- 
 preter, such as where the jewelry was made, 
 where the Jewess came from, and whether she 
 had ever before danced out of Turkey. After 
 they had investigated her to their satisfaction, 
 the gentleman expressed his acknowledgments, 
 and said to the Turk : " Dites lui qu'elle est 
 tres belle, et que la danse est bien gentille." 
 The Turk translated this to the indifferent 
 beauty, and, for the first time, she smiled. 
 
XX. 
 
 The Java Village, like Rome, was not built 
 in a day. For a good many weeks I used to 
 watch the little Javanese working leisurely at 
 their dainty bamboo huts and on their big 
 theatre (also of bamboo, thatched with palm- 
 leaves). They lounged about, dressed in neat 
 jackets and straight skirts, called sarongs, and 
 with a big handkerchief, knotted at the corners, 
 over their short, straight, black hair. They 
 would work only when the weather was warm, 
 and they were not in a hurry. 
 
 At last, one day, the doors in the high, 
 arched gate-way of bamboo were opened, and 
 I went in. The place was crowded all that day, 
 and during all the days following. For every- 
 body was as anxious as I was to see how this 
 gentle-mannered community of little men and 
 women lived, ate and worked. 
 
 In the middle of the Village was the tea- 
 house, with a broad veranda round it, thickly 
 set with chairs and tables and eager customers, 
 
 252 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 253 
 
 while Javanese attendants in scarlet jackets 
 went in and out, and a little boy hastened 
 about distributing pretty cups and saucers and 
 long-nosed tea-kettles. There were some 
 American girls to help wait on the tables, 
 and to interpret between the customers and 
 the Javanese. This tea-house — like all the 
 buildings in the Village — is made of split bam- 
 boo mats stretched on bamboo posts ; the rail- 
 ing enclosing the veranda was constructed of 
 short pieces of bamboo arranged in pretty, 
 open-work patterns ; and the edifice was 
 thatched with very dark palm-leaves. 
 
 Near the tea-house is a big cage, the abode 
 of an ourang-outang, large and ugly, who 
 crawled about in it, and swung himself with 
 preternatural solemnity and precision from bar 
 to bar. South of this is a little pond, into 
 which a stream of water falls, causing a crank 
 to revolve ; the arms of two little wooden 
 figures are attached to the crank, so that it 
 seems as they were turning it. This is but one 
 of many ways in which the playful humor of 
 the Javanese shows itself 
 
 The huts in which the people dwell are 
 ranged all round the large enclosure. Each 
 
254 
 
 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 has a veranda in front, on which they sit, work- 
 ing, idling or smoking their queer cigarettes, 
 made of the dark, perfumed Java tobacco 
 rolled in the leaf of the sugar-palm. These 
 cigarettes are long and slender, tapering to 
 one end. The chief makers of them are two 
 girls and a man in a hut on the 
 north side, where they may be 
 
 watched 
 rolling 
 them in 
 their 
 slender 
 li n g e r s, 
 and tying 
 the end 
 with a bit of 
 fine thread. 
 Among the 
 special curi- 
 osities are a boat, long, and high in the bows, 
 standing beneath a thatched shed ; and a two- 
 wheeled wagon, too small for anything: but a 
 Shetland pony, and as light as thistle-down. 
 On the veranda of one of the huts a man 
 carves paper cutters out of wood, fashioning 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 255 
 
 the handles into the semblance of queer little 
 figures, and painting them. Another man and 
 his wife make the wide, round hats of fine 
 strips of white or colored bamboo, which some 
 of the natives wear. Elsewhere little cross- 
 legged women embroider exquisitely on silk, 
 or dye cotton cloth in bowls filled with hquid 
 tints. 
 
 The manufacture of their various ornaments 
 and utensils — the terms are almost interchange- 
 able in this case — does not interrupt the course 
 of their family life, which goes on as simply 
 and as free from self-consciousness as if no 
 foreign, staring crowd were within a thousand 
 miles of them. The master of the house 
 squats on his mat, smoking peacefully, and 
 restraining his tiny babies from tumbling off 
 the veranda (on the steps of which stand two 
 or three pairs of sandals) — or from eating 
 chips of bamboo. One of the visitors hands 
 the little girl baby a banana. The father 
 smiles a thank-you and peels it for the baby, 
 who squats to munch, looking at the crowd with 
 wide, grave eyes. One or two women — I 
 noticed that there were often two or three pairs 
 of women's sandals on the steps of the huts, 
 16 
 
256 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 besides the one male pair ; and since these 
 people are Mohammedans, perhaps they have 
 more wives than one — one or two women, 
 their small, regular teeth sometimes blackened 
 like the men's, and generally filed too, go in 
 and out, arrange the children's single little 
 slips (all they wear), laugh and joke with their 
 husband, straighten the bamboo mats, and 
 carry on all their domestic duties in the most 
 charmingly unconstrained manner. 
 
 They are quite ready, too, to be sociable 
 with visitors when the latter gather in front of 
 their family groups and show a desire to enter 
 into conversation. A young and pretty woman 
 with a clear brown complexion, long, narrow, 
 dark eyes, a sweet mouth and the funniest flat 
 nose, and a gracefully-rounded figure, which 
 seems too small for anything but a fairy, goes 
 into delicious little fits of laughter over the 
 efforts of an elderly American to repeat after 
 her some Javanese words. She points to her 
 chin, and the American says " chin — English," 
 and she laughs and says " chin ?" with a soft 
 accent, " lava," and then follows some strange 
 word. A Javanese sitting near her, in the red 
 jacket worn by the musicians in the theatre. 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, i^^j 
 
 looks on with a doubtful air, as if he were not 
 satisfied that it was quite coimne il faict for her 
 to be so famiUar with a barbarian, and he mut- 
 ters something to her in Malay. But just then 
 — teeth being the word under discussion — the 
 American unexpectedly removes his upper row, 
 to the little woman's speechless astonishment. 
 '* False teeth," says he, amidst roars of laugh- 
 ter ; "don't have 'em in Java?" ** No, no !" 
 replies she, shaking her head most emphatic- 
 ally. And she follows the man's retreating 
 figure with bewildered eyes as long as it is in 
 sight. 
 
 South of the theatre is a long booth, with a 
 counter heaped with bamboo mats, filigree 
 work, wrought brass, Malay creeses and spears, 
 the cart-wheel hats, the sarongs, silk sashes 
 richly embroidered with gold, such as the 
 dancing-girls wear ; musical instruments mar- 
 velous in form and sweetly plaintive in sound. 
 As for those queer cigarettes, they can be 
 bought from any of the Javanese — male or 
 female. They all carry a handful of them in 
 their breast pockets. Java coffee, tea and spices 
 are also for sale. Everything is cheap as well 
 as fascinating, and it is hard to get away. 
 
258 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 Perhaps the most singular performance to be 
 seen in all Midway is the one given in the 
 Bamboo Theatre. I was fortunate enough to 
 get a seat near the stage, where my view^ was 
 unimpeded by bonnets and shoulders. The 
 stage was large ; at the back was a series of 
 broad steps, on which the red-jacketed orches- 
 tra of twenty-four performers is seated. The 
 musical instruments resemble short, fat boats 
 painted blue, but are really a kind of gigantic 
 harmonicons, played on with padded hammers. 
 There are also gongs and cymbals, and a few 
 bells and stringed instruments. The music 
 generated from these materials is most sweet 
 and harmonious. 
 
 At the foot of the orchestral acclivity is a 
 semi-transparent screen, with a low seat behind 
 it for the man who does all the actors' talking 
 for them. The actors wear masks, which arc 
 said to be kept in place by a piece of leather 
 attached to the inside of the mask and held 
 between their teeth, naturally preventing them 
 from using their tongues. 
 
 On either side of the stage is a rack contain- 
 ing dozens of marionettes with faces weirdly 
 hideous, painted blue and red. I don't know 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 259 
 
 what they are for ; no one on the stage pays 
 the shghtest attention to them. 
 
 The members of the orchestra come on and 
 take their places one after the other ; each one 
 before chmbing to his place shps off his san- 
 dals. At length all are seated, and after play- 
 ing an overture the curtains hanging before 
 two entrances at either wing are parted, and out 
 come five women, looking even smaller if pos- 
 sible than when going about out of doors. 
 They do not wear masks. Their dresses are 
 gorgeous with mingled colors ; the materials 
 are rich, and the adornment lavish. About 
 their waists dangle the embroidered ends of 
 several sashes ; they wear white stockings, but 
 no shoes. They come on slowly in single file, 
 pausing at each step to settle gradually into a 
 quaint but graceful pose, one arm extended in 
 front and the other behind, their flexible little 
 elbows so straightened that they bend the 
 wrong way, and their slender hands spread 
 out. Every few moments, by a quick jerk of 
 the wrist, they toss the hanging end of a sash 
 over the forearm. In this manner they wind 
 across the stage in a row with infinite precision, 
 holding each pose for a moment or two, and 
 
26o The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 then sliding into another. At last they make 
 their exit by the opposite entrance, each turn- 
 ing to bow before disappearing. 
 
 Next enters a strange and wondrous creature ; 
 he is a Javanese, though it is hard to realize it. 
 He is clothed in briUiant plush small-clothes, 
 white stockings without shoes like the women, 
 and like them with half a dozen sashes dang- 
 ling from his girdle. 
 
 Like them, too, he wears a sort of helmet on 
 his head ; but his face is concealed by a gro- 
 tesque and fierce-looking mask, which seems a 
 little too small for him, and which has narrow, 
 pointed features, adorned with a bristling 
 moustache. 
 
 He crosses the stage with exaggerated strides, 
 stopping at every other step to turn his head this 
 way and that, and to spread his legs as far apart 
 as possible ; while he keeps his arms akimbo and 
 now and then tosses a sash over his wrist. At 
 length he reaches a seat in the middle of the 
 stage ; and after exam.ining it suspiciously, he 
 sits down upon it. 
 
 Another masked phenomenon follows him, 
 in precisely the same manner ; when he comes 
 in front of the first, the latter springs up, and 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 261 
 
 the two sidle about each other, while the man 
 behind the screen carries on their conversation. 
 Finally they shake hands and sit down, their 
 heads on one side, their hands on their hips, 
 and their legs at an angle of 180 degrees. 
 
 Three or four more now enter with the same 
 grotesque formalities. Then comes a person- 
 age somewhat different from the others, with an 
 evil grin on his mask ; he seems to inspire the 
 others with apprehension. After some minutes 
 of fantastic posing, and advance and retreat, 
 he is attacked by them ; but he offers no resist- 
 ance, and it appears that he is invulnerable. 
 Then he strikes his antagonist on the hip, and 
 the latter makes his exit in an apparently 
 moribund condition, though not omitting to 
 make a parting obeisance to the audience. 
 The Evil Grinner, being left in possession of 
 the field, -seats himself on the central seat or 
 throne to enjoy his triumph. Others enter, 
 and he is again attacked, but is once more 
 victorious ; and at length he too makes his 
 exit. 
 
 Now appear six girls, the loveliest things 
 imaginable. Their dresses reach from the 
 centre of the bosom to just below the knee; 
 
262 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 the feet and legs are bare, and the body of the 
 robe is sleeveless, without so much as a strap 
 over the shoulder. The colors are rich and 
 harmonious, and the invariable sashes swing 
 from the girdle. The soft skin of their little 
 bodies is all powdered over with the fragrant 
 dust of sandalwood — except their faces, which 
 are powdered white. Elaborate crowns sur- 
 mount their heads ; their bearing is solemn and 
 dignified. Their dancing, or posing, is the 
 same in principle as that of the first women, 
 but somewhat more pronounced and various. 
 While thus engaged they are approached by 
 another Httle creature, entering by the opposite 
 door ; and presently a duel takes place, with 
 krisses, between her and the leader of the 
 others. Each delivers blows slowly and with 
 precision ; but so far as I could see neither 
 was actually touched. However, the new- 
 comer wins, and the defeated one is minis- 
 tered to by her companions. 
 
 Another act by the male performers follows, 
 and then the play — which is said to be a re- 
 ligious drama — is over. The orchestra plays a 
 couple of American national airs, which sound 
 strange in that place and from such instru- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 263 
 
 ments. But the airs are perfectly rendered ; 
 and considering that there is no conductor and 
 that each musician plays his part without the 
 least apparent regard to his fellows, this is re- 
 markable. 
 
 Altogether it is a most dainty, wonderful, in- 
 comprehensible performance, and I would not 
 have missed seeing it on any account. 
 
 As I left the theatre I saw two or three 
 Javanese flying kites — a favorite Javanese oc- 
 cupation. The kites are usually tailless, with 
 tassels at each side ; some are pamted with 
 grinning faces, others simply with stripes, while 
 others are quite plain. They ascend very 
 easily, even in a shght breeze, and require no 
 running. 
 
 Good-bye to Java, with its gentle, courteous, 
 dignified little people, its palm-thatched cot- 
 tages, its palm leaf weather vanes, its dehcate 
 embroideries, its sharp krisses. Passing out of 
 the tall bamboo gate, I cross Midway's broad 
 walk to the South-Sea Islanders opposite. 
 
XXI. 
 
 The South-Sea Islanders, before each of 
 their performances, march in single file out 
 of the gate of their enclosure into the Midway, 
 and so round to the theatre entrance. One of 
 them (generally the last of the line) thumps 
 with a couple of sticks on a drum slung over 
 his shoulders. Sometimes another blows ghastly 
 peals on a conch-shell. If they are feeling par- 
 ticularly good they give a few war-whoops, 
 compared with which the wildest yells of a 
 Sioux warrior would sound as mild as the 
 cooing of a dove. 
 
 There are about twenty-five of them, though 
 not all appear at each performance. Three 
 are girls, all from Samoa ; the youngest a win- 
 ning little creature not more than twelve years 
 old; the oldest, eighteen. The men, who are 
 Fijians chiefly, are splendid specimens of phys- 
 ical beauty, lithe and strong, with bodies per- 
 fectly developed, and smooth, sloping muscles 
 under a golden-brown skin. Their eyes are 
 
 264 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 265 
 
 dark and their hair black ; their features 
 comely, and, in two or three, handsome even, 
 and intelligent in expression. 
 
 Fetoai, the eldest girl, is plump, and darker 
 than the two others, with long, narrow eyes 
 and a laughing mouth. The second, Lola, 
 is as beautiful in face and figure as ever 
 woman was. She is rather tall, neither stout 
 nor slim, her limbs and body exquisitely 
 rounded, her arms tapering to the wrists, 
 and terminating in small, slender hands. Her 
 feet too are small, with high-arched insteps and 
 straight, delicate ankles. Her countenance is 
 of the Asiatic type — high cheek-bones, straight 
 nose, large bright eyes, a lovely mouth, and an 
 expression of maidenly dignity and sweet un- 
 consciousness. Her beauty — if she knows it — 
 is a matter of no regard to her ; she is never 
 embarrassed by it, but sings and dances with 
 the wild grace and freedom of a young wood- 
 nymph playing with her wild sisters. 
 
 These girls are all dressed in low-cut, sleeve- 
 less tunics reaching to the knee, made of the 
 beaten pulp of a native bark, and called tapa- 
 cloth. Their ornaments are coral and shell 
 necklaces, fringes of colored grass, and a 
 
266 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 wreath of the same on their wavy black 
 hair. Lola one day found some excelsior, 
 and wore it on her stately little head with 
 a delicious air of satisfaction. 
 
 The men wear a skirt of the same cloth, 
 sometimes reaching half-way to the knee ; 
 sometimes as far below it. That is all, except 
 their coral necklaces, crossed over chest and 
 back; and fringes of grass round waist or 
 neck, or passing under one arm. They, too, 
 wear wreaths on their heads, or a sort of cap 
 or turban made of a fold of tapa-cloth. Some- 
 times they tie a wisp of grass round the arm, 
 knee or ankle. They are tattooed with solid 
 blue, in artistic contrast with their golden skins, 
 from waist to knee ; when the skirt happens 
 to slip aside this is visible, but it looks like an 
 inner garment. Some of these young men 
 are a revelation of what a beautiful object 
 a man's body may be. 
 
 I found, on trial, that the front row of seats 
 was the best, though new-comers generally 
 seemed to fear it was too near. So a seat 
 in the front row was my place at least once 
 every day. 
 
 The Islanders made their prnmenade twice, 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 267 
 
 so that after taking my seat I could watch 
 them come up the side aisle, passing close be- 
 side me, and running up the steps to the stage 
 entrance, which the leader pushes open with a 
 thrust of his paddle ; they all carry paddles, 
 known as dancing-clubs. The theatre is of 
 fair size, the plaster walls painted with scenes 
 of Pacific Islands, with tall palms, running 
 streams, groups of natives, moonhght on sil- 
 very water, and curving rims of coast. The 
 effect is pleasing, though crude ; it is a little 
 startling to see a gas- fixture emerging from a 
 quiet pool, or sprouting amidst the leaves of 
 a palm. The stage curtain also has an island 
 scene upon it. 
 
 But what a splendid, wild-looking group 
 these savage men and maidens are, with their 
 naked, beautiful figures ; their free, graceful 
 movements ; their fluttering fringes and red 
 necklaces ! And how merry they are, too, 
 laughing with one another at some joke, and 
 hoisting the little brown baby (which sometimes 
 manages to slip unbeknownst on the stage) on 
 to their broad shoulders, where it sits with its 
 tiny fists buried in their short black hair. One 
 of their favorite ways of carrying the baby — 
 
268 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 whose mother does not appear on the stage — 
 is to Hft it by those same Httle fists, so that it 
 swings by the arms, much Hke a rabbit carried 
 by the ears. 
 
 Five dances — though not always the same 
 five — usually constitute a performance ; but 
 Tapetei, descriptive of an expedition to Wallis 
 Island, always begins it. Before the curtain 
 rises the deep, musical voices commence the 
 song, and I hear the rhythmic beat of feet. Up 
 the curtain goes, and there the men stand, in a 
 double row, twirling the clubs in their hands, 
 glancing to left and right alternately, and sing- 
 ing their beautiful wild song. Suddenly the 
 one on my extreme left utters a sharp excla- 
 mation, and he and the last man on the right 
 of the line run swiftly past each other, ex- 
 changing places ; then clap their paddles 
 sharply against their palms, run back, and the 
 dancing, interrupted for the moment, is re- 
 sumed. The step is a spring from one foot to 
 the other, advancing each alternately, keeping 
 absolute time, twirling the paddles and sing- 
 ing. The swing and movement and harmony 
 of sound and motion are more than words can 
 convey. There are several changes, or figures, 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 269 
 
 in the dance, descriptive, I suppose, of various 
 adventures met with on the journey thither; 
 but what exactly they all mean no white per- 
 son can ever know. 
 
 Another song and dance always given is 
 Manululu, which begins with the whole com- 
 pany sitting cross-legged on the floor, in four or 
 five rows, the three girls in the middle of the 
 front row. Lola and a young fellow called 
 Filipo (with a figure like that of some Grecian 
 victor of the Olympian games) were the best 
 performers in this. It opens with a song by 
 Fetoai, relating a Samoan genealogy, all the 
 others joining in the ever-recurring chorus with 
 a lilt and volume of sound delicious to hear. 
 This done, Lola sang a love story of Samoa, 
 two of the drummers beating a low accompani- 
 ment. She sings a bar or two, then the chorus 
 chimed in ; then another couplet, and so on. 
 All through this song the people in the rear 
 rows kept up a soft, rhythmic hand-clapping, 
 while the front row made a series of panto- 
 mimic gestures charmingly graceful. There 
 was a sort of rowing movement with the hands, 
 to the front and on either side ; the hands rise 
 over the head, the bodies sway, the knees rise 
 
270 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 and fall as they sit cross-legged ; the chant 
 waxes faster and wilder and the motions more 
 rapid and beautiful. The hands are clapped 
 together thrice on the left knee, the body bends 
 back and forth, and the hands meet again 
 thrice on the right knee. Another way of 
 clapping is to hold both hands palm upwards 
 on the knees, strike the left knee twice with the 
 back of the left hand, which is then carried 
 across and smitten into the palm of the right 
 hand on the right knee. 
 
 Lola's love-song is immediately followed by 
 Matu, a Fijian dance of rejoicing. The whole 
 company rise to their feet and form in a ring 
 round the drummers squatting in the centre. 
 The chanting is rapid and energetic, they leap 
 up and down, run to and fro, swaying the body 
 and swinging the arms, and now and again 
 there is a shout, an exclamation, a laugh, or 
 one of those wild whoops that only South-Sea 
 cannibals can utter. That heart must be sad 
 indeed that feels no answering thrill of exhilara- 
 tion. As for me, it was as much as I could do 
 to refrain from shouting too, and leaping up to 
 join them. 
 
 There is a Fijian cannibal dance, called 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 271 
 
 Metaraa, fierce and terrible, but which is 
 seldom given. As the curtain rises they are 
 seated on the floor, singing and swaying ; anon 
 they leap to their feet with a bound and a 
 stamp that shake the stage, and begin a succes- 
 sion of strange and ominous movements, cul- 
 minating in an awful gesture of the head and 
 arms, as if they were tearing human flesh from 
 the bone. They grow more and more excited, 
 
 and swing themselves, and sing I 
 
 should not hke to hear that song when it is 
 sung in earnest, if this make-believe can be so 
 savage and fierce. Yet it is musical withal. 
 
 In the Fijian war-dance and song — Timiraii 
 — they rock in perfect time from one foot to the 
 other, suddenly rush forward waving their clubs 
 threateningly, make a half- whirl, and drop with 
 a crash of clubs on the floor, to one knee, 
 rising again simultaneously with a bound. I 
 liked this dance much ; it was perhaps the 
 most exciting of any, though not so terrifying 
 as Metaraa. There were more war-whoops in 
 it — glorious yells ! — than in any other. 
 
 Satei is a religious dance and song ; it con- 
 sists of a sort of quarter-staff bouts between 
 groups of four, very complicated and rapid, 
 
 19 
 
272 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 with many changes and gyrations. Two of 
 each group have staves four feet long ; the 
 other two, a short stick in each hand. At 
 every beat of the music, staves and sticks are 
 smitten forcibly together — so forcibly as to 
 break them often — while the combatants (to 
 call them that) twist in and out between one 
 another, striking before and behind, above and 
 below, and never missing the blow. At the 
 end of each interval, the staves are struck all 
 at once on the floor. All drop to one knee, 
 and one — the second from the end — rises, runs 
 down the line, strikes his staff thrice on the 
 ground, says som_e thing in a sharp tone, and 
 returns to his place. Up they all get, and the 
 dance and chant continue. 
 
 The club- drill, called Ailauti, is one of the 
 most remarkable feats of skill in the whole 
 performance. The 7 clubs are whirled and 
 twisted so swiftly that the eye cannot follow the 
 movements— -over head, behind,- in front, on 
 either side, while the men stand, kneel, leap to 
 their feet, turn and waver back and forth. 
 Often some one lets a club drop ; generally this 
 is done by some of the less skilful ones in 
 the back rows ; but one day, a front-row man, 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 273 
 
 a jolly fellow, who was always laughing and 
 joking with his comrades, let his club slip, and 
 it flew out in the audience and dropped in front 
 of a spectator sitting next the stage. The lat- 
 ter, after recovering his self-possession, picked 
 up the club and replaced it on the stage ; but 
 its owner had immediately gone off, much em- 
 barrassed. The rest acted as though nothing 
 had happened out of the way, and, spreading 
 out their line, filled the vacancy. 
 
 Since the Fourth of July the performance 
 has ended with the singing of "America" by 
 the Islanders ; and very charmingly do they 
 sing it, though the unintelligible Polynesian 
 words they use really mean " God save the 
 Queen." They stand up quietly while singing 
 it, with hands folded or hanging, and it seems 
 odd to see them thus, instead of moving in a 
 dance, as in their own songs. For me, I prefer 
 them in the latter. 
 
 As the curtain goes down for the last time 
 expressions of delight in the performance are 
 audible on all sides ; and no wonder, for it is the 
 best thing on Midway. The oftener I went the 
 more I liked to go ; and I always wished it were 
 longer, and was never weary of any part of it. 
 
274 '^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 During my stay the Village, being un- 
 finished, was not open to the public ; but I 
 was [fortunate enough to know the managers, 
 and was permitted to go in and out as I 
 pleased, and to sit on the mats in the round 
 huts — one of which, the largest, is quite old, 
 and belonged to Metaafa, the deposed king. 
 One day I saw Filipo make a fire by rubbing 
 two pieces of wood together ; it took him less 
 than three minutes ; and then he lighted his 
 pipe at the flame. 
 
 They are a happy people, full of fun, humor- 
 ous, liking a joke. They are proud, too, and 
 think themselves at least as good as anybody 
 else. And they all intend, as soon as the 
 great Fair finally shuts its gates, to go back to 
 their beautiful islands. 
 
 Albeit of such recent cannibal ancestry, 
 half of this company are Roman Catholics, 
 and the rest are Methodists. The latter will 
 not dance on Sundays, so, on that day, the 
 gates of the Pacific are closed. The CathoKcs, 
 amidst their coral and grass ornaments, wear 
 a small silver charm, glittering against their 
 brown chests. 
 
 When, for the last time, I say good-bye to 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 275 
 
 the South-Sea Islands, and pass out, it is even- 
 ing ; and, before leaving Midway, never to 
 return, I shall walk its length once more. It 
 is at its best between eight and nine o'clock, 
 when the villages and buildings have poured a 
 portion of their many-nationed, many-tongued 
 inhabitants into its broad walk, to mingle with 
 one another and the American crowd — which 
 seems to be the most " foreign " of them all! 
 
XXII. 
 
 The muezzins in the Turkish and Cairo min- 
 arets are calling, for the last time to-day, •' La- 
 Allah-ill-Allah !" — falling, rising, shrill and 
 sweet. They vanish ; and gradually, as it 
 darkens, the electric lamps gleam out, border- 
 ing on either side of Midway, up and down as 
 far as I can see. 
 
 Dahomey's gates are closed, and all within is 
 quiet ; but from Old Vienna, next door, comes 
 a mingled sound of music and jollity; people 
 are pouring in at its arched gateways. I 
 saunter along very slowly, until I find myself 
 opposite the Algerian Theatre, through the 
 stained-glass windows of which light streams 
 forth. I will wait to see the Aissaous pass by. 
 Here they are, heralded by the strange, discord- 
 ant, thrilling sounds of pipe and hand-drums ; 
 the big Nubians lift high the embroidered ban- 
 ners ; and now the Aissaous, facing about 
 beneath the porch, their white caftans blowing 
 in the light south wind, begin their chant. As 
 
 276 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 they turn and vanish through the 
 doors, one turns to say some- 
 thing, laughingly, to an 
 Arab leaning against a 
 pillar ; and I remember 
 that he is the one who 
 sticks the spike through 
 his cheek. 
 
 Aloft there swings tire- 
 lessly the Great Wheel. 
 On the Fourth of July red 
 fire was burned on the roofs 
 of its cars, and on the great 
 axle ; and as it turned about it seemed a 
 cataract of sullen flame pouring out of 
 black sky to shrivel up the crowds packed be- 
 low and gazing up at it with the red reflection 
 on their faces. On that day, also, two lines of 
 Chinese lanterns were strung from post to post 
 down the length of the Plaisance, with an effect 
 of magical loveliness ; an apparently endless 
 succession of graceful curves glowing softly in 
 many colors. 
 
 The bazars are shut, and their owners are 
 scattered amidst the crowd. I pass a group of 
 Arabs in earnest talk, their burnouses flutter- 
 
 277 
 
 the 
 
278 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 ing, or clutched with a dark, restraining hand. 
 And yonder goes a Turk in baggy white trous- 
 ers and gold-embroidered jacket, convoying 
 two dancing-girls in brilliant silks and heavy 
 ankle-bangles jangling at each step. Glancing 
 up, I see that Cairo minaret has been illumi- 
 nated, not with electric light, but with a row of 
 tiny lanterns round each of the two lower bal- 
 conies. The airy, fretted tower, rising softly 
 white against the darkness of the sky, with the 
 twinkling lights shining like two girdles of 
 spiritual crystals, is like an ethereal dream of 
 architecture, ascending towards heaven. 
 
 The Persian Palace is bravely illuminated; 
 from the upper windows stream the dance music 
 and the applause. A group of donkey-boys 
 hesitate at the doorway, debating whether to go 
 in. Their blue caftans catch the light, and 
 their brown faces grin as jollily as ever. 
 
 The Turks in Turkey are gathered about the 
 fruit-bazar, sipping sherbet and talking excit- 
 edly, with many gestures ; or they sit on the 
 veranda of the cafe-chantant smoking nargi- 
 lehs and playing backgammon. The stout little 
 Albanian, who put so much energy into his 
 appeals to the public to enter and see the danc- 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 279 
 
 ing of the Fine Young Ladies, seems somewhat 
 dejected ; he has substituted a pair of green 
 Turkish trousers for his white petticoat, and sits 
 banging fitfully on a huge drum. Perhaps the 
 brown-haired dancing-girl has trifled with his 
 affections. 
 
 Here is a crowd of curious persons surround- 
 ing (of course !) a Javanese, who is selling one 
 of them a couple of cigarettes for five cents. 
 They ask him questions ; he nods and smiles 
 with twinkling eyes, but the joke is that he 
 understands not a syllable. Two tall Persian 
 wrestlers pass, walking hand in hand like chil- 
 dren, with the electric light glowing on their 
 deep-purple caftans. They are followed by 
 four or five Soudanese in their toga-like dress, 
 striding with the free grace of some superb 
 wild animal, the black skin of arm and face 
 contrasting vividly with the white of their 
 attire. There they go, the fierce fighters of the 
 Soudan, the " Fuzzy-Wuzzies " of Kipling's 
 ballad, who ** broke a British Square." And 
 here, for a contrast, come a knot of German 
 soldiers in bright uniforms, their swords clank- 
 ing, and spurs on their heels. 
 
 Lights twinkle among the trees of the Ger- 
 
2§o The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 man Village as I pass, and the band is playing 
 there. A couple of Hindus in white walk 
 slowly by, eyeing with gentle curiosity a com- 
 pany of French peasants in blouses and clumsy 
 wooden shoes, who are jabbering to one 
 another with Gallic vivacity. The tables out- 
 side the Vienna Cafe are filled with guests ; a 
 waltz is playing, and the kellners rush to and 
 fro with beer and coffee. 
 
 What is that deep, low sound rolling out ab- 
 ruptly over the Plaisance, and thrilling in my 
 breast ? No other sound can be mistaken for 
 that — it is the roar of the lion. The passing 
 crowd halts and looks upward. In the cage 
 over the entrance to Hagenbeck's Arena four 
 or five lions are pacing to and fro, their yellow 
 bodies gliding, lithe and sinuous, in the light 
 of the lamps below, and their eyes shining. 
 Again, one roars and another answers, ending 
 with a long growl. The crowd stands, im- 
 pressed and silent, gazing at the great beasts. 
 What a splendid, savage sound it is, and, be- 
 fore it dies away, what a vision it brings of 
 dark tropic jungles and wide, moonlighted 
 plains ! As it vibrates within me, I remem- 
 ber the chant of the Sidi Ben Aissa. I Unger 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 281 
 
 awhile, hoping the lions will roar again. But 
 they squat down in their cage and rest their 
 great heads on their paws. There is something 
 in me that answers to that wild voice, not in 
 fear, but with a strange delight. 
 
 A few lights glimmer here and there in Java 
 as I go by. A small figure is walking across 
 the enclosure from the eastern to the western 
 end. But on the two benches which flank the 
 entrance outside seven or eight Javanese are 
 seated, chattering with one another, attempt- 
 ing scraps of conversation, in their pretty 
 broken English, with the passing crowd, and 
 smoking. One of them takes a big red apple 
 out of his pocket, and is about to eat it, when 
 his next neighbor but one snatches it and takes 
 a bite out of it before handing it back to its 
 owner, who grins, and reaches over to give the 
 other a thump on the shoulder. 
 
 Over in Samoa the mat curtains of the round 
 huts are down, but through the crevices light is 
 visible, and I hear the musical voices of the 
 Islanders rehearsing some new song. 
 
 As I pass the glass-works I overtake several 
 Chinese, dressed in flowing robes of pale 
 salmon, blue and white, with queues reach- 
 
282 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 ing to their heels, and the next moment brush 
 against a crowd of jolly Irish peasants, who 
 have just come out of their Village. And now 
 I am at the last viaduct, and I turn for one 
 more look. 
 
 The long street is crowded with all the peo- 
 ples of the world, and brilliant with many- 
 colored lights. Overhead, the search-light 
 from the Main Building, which has been 
 glancing across the sky like the gleaming 
 sword of some gigantic genie, touches the 
 Ferris Wheel, bringing it suddenly out of 
 nothingness, and throwing its shadow on the 
 clouds behind it. And up and down, on 
 either side, cluster and climb the minarets, 
 the round domes, the thatched roofs, the 
 tapering obelisks, in that strange proximity 
 which has grown to be so familiar, and will 
 always remain to me so unforgetable. 
 
 Truly, I am loth to go. The art, the power, 
 and the mighty works of Man are represented 
 elsewhere in the Fair ; but here in Midway is 
 Man Himself; and it has a warm, human fas- 
 cination which nothing else can possess. But 
 the hour is passing, and the crowd is pressing 
 by to the east, where the illuminations are 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 283 
 
 awaiting them. At last I too turn my back 
 on the world of the Plaisance, and bend my 
 steps towards Fairy Land. 
 
XXIII. 
 
 Passing through the Woman's Building, I 
 cross the high-backed bridge to Wooded Island. 
 
 How sweet and quiet it is ! Only an occa- 
 sional Guard, or a pair of whispering lovers (or 
 the two in combination) break the solitude. 
 Lamps with gracefully shaped globes of pink 
 or pale green glass, or pure white, glow out 
 here and there along the twisting paths, but do 
 not disturb the mystery of the gloom under the 
 trees, whose boughs are softly stirring in the 
 faint evening air. On a bench, where a per- 
 fume of roses, and grass and cool earth sur- 
 rounds me, I sit to rest awhile. The shadows 
 of the tree over my head move back and forth 
 on the smooth pathway ; a restless bird chir- 
 rups from a tall clump of shrubbery near by. 
 By degrees the feeling of peaceful loneliness 
 flows into my heart and fills it. I get up once 
 more and, sauntering onwards, cross another 
 bridge to the smaller Island, where stands a 
 little log cabin — a hunter's camp — with a wood 
 
 284 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 285 
 
 fire on the hearth, the floor strewn with skins, 
 and, hung on the walls, heads of deer, wolf and 
 bear, and all the implements and trophies of 
 the chase. A third arched bridge connects the 
 small Island with the main land. I pause on 
 the centre of it to watch a gondola glide under- 
 neath and disappear round the sedgy shore. 
 Then I pass on, and in another minute am 
 merged once more in the great crowd. The 
 stimulus of their myriad-fold contact enters 
 into me. No more shadows and solitudes to- 
 night ! 
 
 On my right, as I turn towards the Lake, 
 open the vast doorways of the Electricity 
 Building, which is at its best at night, and I 
 drift in there with a thousand others. It is a 
 wilderness of briUiance, humming and murmur- 
 ing with invisible force. At the north end, the 
 PVench exhibit of light-house lamps and re- 
 flectors is conspicuous, though they are not 
 lighted, perhaps because they would be too 
 blinding. Fixed search-lights are stationed at 
 various places in the Building, and when you 
 unexpectedly cross the ray of one of them, the 
 rest of the dazzling scene turns dark in con- 
 trast. It is impossible to separate and analyze 
 
286 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 the radiant and sparkling splendors that rain 
 upon me from every side. Up there in the gal- 
 lery a sentence flashes out, as if written by an 
 unseen hand, in letters of white fire ; it van- 
 ishes as suddenly, and in its place gleams forth 
 a name in vivid blue. Yonder revolves a great 
 crystal globe, and now the western, now the 
 eastern hemisphere is alighted. A tri-colored 
 serpent of light wriggles up a pillar, separates 
 at the top into three zig-zags of red, white and 
 blue lightning, which find their way to as many 
 spinning spheres, in which they glow and van- 
 ish. Here is a splendid pavilion, in the shape 
 of an Egyptian temple, all flooded with soft, 
 golden light that comes through the translucent 
 ceiling, and is so diffused and subtle that it 
 seems to emanate from everywhere and be in 
 the very air you breathe. There are the pure 
 white lamps of the Brush system, noticeable 
 even amidst this storm of light by the serene 
 intensity of their lustre. 
 
 But the most impressive sight here is the 
 illumination of the great pillar which rises in 
 the centre of the building, and stands lifeless 
 during all save a few minutes of each day. 
 
 It rises nearly to the roof, and is crowned, 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, iZ^j 
 
 during its illumination, with a ring of arc-lights 
 of intense brightness. Just below are the 
 words "Bunker Hill " in golden fire. At 
 the base of the pillar is a pavilion, hung with 
 many-shaped and colored lamps. Suddenly, 
 as I look at the dark shaft, a coil of blue, red 
 and green light writhes around it from top to 
 bottom ; the colors change, vanish and reap- 
 pear, now twisted and interlaced in patterns 
 that momently vary and shine out in fresh 
 combinations ; anon parallel lines of gold 
 strike up and down the height of the column ; 
 between them creep in serpentine flashes of 
 red and blue. A moment, and all is dark ! 
 anothep moment, and it gleams out anew, in 
 even more marvelous intricacy and magnifi- 
 cence. The variety and beauty seem inex- 
 haustible ; but at last, as suddenly as it began, 
 the radiance vanishes for the last time, and all 
 is done. 
 
 And now I feel a drawing, which I can no 
 longer resist, to the lovely Court. The soul of 
 all beauty is there ; and thither I take my way. 
 I pass under Franklin's statue in the vaulted 
 entrance, and out into the high summer night. 
 
 I have seen the Great Court under many 
 
 2P 
 
288 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 conditions — when it was steeped in the full, 
 noon-day sun, its ramparts gleaming white 
 against the deep blue sky and water ; when it 
 was tinged with the rosy flush of the declining 
 day ; or lay in the gray shadow of a cloudy 
 heaven ; and twice or thrice I have seen it 
 when a sudden tempest swept up from the 
 lake, turning the sky black, roaring with 
 thunder and flashing with hghtning, and the 
 rush of the rain beat upon the white palaces 
 and golden domes, and made the level Lagoon 
 leap and dance under the dash of the rain- 
 drops. 
 
 But, lovely as under all circumstances it is, 
 the time of its supreme and crowning beauty 
 is at night, when the enchantment of the 
 illumination has transfigured it. If, before, I 
 had wondered that mortal hands could fashion 
 aueht so fair, I now ceased to think of it as 
 made at all. All that I know of it — all that I 
 care for — is that it is here ; and I may gaze my 
 fill upon it. 
 
 But how shall I convey to others the vision 
 that I behold ? 
 
 Along the upper edge of the white walls en- 
 closing the Basin, following the arched span of 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 289 
 
 the bridges, the fafades of the Buildings, the 
 cornice of the Peristyle, the curves of the 
 stately entrances, and ascending in sweeping 
 arcs the golden dome of the Administration — 
 are chains of golden light. The summit of 
 the dome is a-fire with a living crown, and 
 along the upper balcony blaze and flare a row 
 of wind-swept torches. Only the Administra- 
 tion is illuminated on all sides ; the others, 
 only on the sides which face the Court. In 
 addition to the golden light is the silver of the 
 Brush Electric, a double row of which environ 
 the Basin. 
 
 This gold and silver splendor meet and min- 
 gle on the surface of the water, which dances 
 and shivers in Httle waves stirred up by the wan- 
 dering gondolas and launches. The launches 
 dart about, adding to the hues upon the water 
 the red and green of the lights they carry ; but 
 the gondolas move in stately fashion, some 
 with their awnings hung with Chinese lanterns, 
 others mysteriously dark. Near the middle of 
 the Basin float three gondolas together, occu- 
 pied only by seven or eight gondoliers, who 
 lounge on the cushions and sing Italian songs. 
 Now and then a panting steam-launch plies its 
 
290 The Fairest of the Fair, 
 
 way under the arch of the Peristyle, and forth 
 into the lake ; or returns thence with a shrill 
 toot that rudely breaks the omnipresent har- 
 mony, though enhancing its deliciousness by 
 contrast, after its discord is done. 
 
 Thousands of spectators are distributed over 
 the vast spaces of the Court, but cannot throng 
 it. They sit or stroll about, forgetting to be in 
 haste ; they talk in low tones ; from the white 
 pavilions floats and streams the music in the 
 warm summer air. I say in my heart, over and 
 over again, " How beautiful !" The dark, star- 
 sprinkled sky, the mysterious obscurity of Lake 
 Michigan, with illuminated boats floating on 
 her bosom ; the Court, with its blending gold 
 and silver, its white palaces, its bridges over 
 the many-shadowed, all-reflecting waters ; the 
 flitting boats, the idling crowd, the music — all 
 this loveliness, noble and bewitching, takes my 
 breath away, and the delight of it makes my 
 heart ache. Almost can I realize immortality 
 on earth, since a thousand years would not be 
 long to look and wonder in. 
 
 The great search-lights have been gliding 
 and crossing one another about the sky, strik- 
 ing, now and then, on the towers of Machinery 
 
The Fairest of the Fair, 291 
 
 Hall, or on the flying Diana round whose ped- 
 estal is a circle of light ; or on the Columbus 
 Quadriga surmounting the arch of the Peri- 
 style ; or on the head and shoulders of the 
 Great Republic. But all at once they meet 
 and concentrate upon the lady of the Foun- 
 tain, her barge and nymphs, so that the God- 
 dess sits, white as snow, amidst the silvery 
 water-jets towering about her, and falling again 
 with a rustling sound, and flashing down the 
 terraces. So fair is she, so hght and strong, 
 she seems the Spirit itself of Water and of 
 Light. 
 
 Three nights in each week fireworks are 
 given in the Court and on the Lake front, but 
 be they never so gorgeous, I do not care for 
 fireworks in such a place as this. I do not 
 want a brass band as accompaniment to a 
 poem of Keats. 
 
 Suddenly the row of incandescent lamps 
 which encircles the Basin Hke a string of Hve 
 amber beads is extinguished, and so are the 
 lights on Administration, all save the torches, 
 which must burn until they go out of them- 
 selves. The Court is now in semi-darkness. 
 What is about to happen ? 
 
292 The Fairest of the Fair. 
 
 There is a whisper, a rush, a startling leap 
 straight upwards of two mighty towers of water 
 on either side of the MacMonnies Fountain. 
 Gleaming white they stand and fall at once. 
 The Electric Fountains have begun to play ! 
 Through the whiteness steals magically a soft 
 pink glow, increasing and deepening, until the 
 twin fountains topple and aspire in rosy red, 
 casting over the Buildings and on the surface 
 of the Basin luminous reflections. The rose 
 grows faint, it is changing to primrose, it is 
 subsiding to emerald, it strengthens to purple 
 and to blue, it flashes into dazzling white once 
 more. And now it is all the hues of the rain- 
 bow at once; it subsides, it mounts again, it 
 whirls and radiates, it surrounds itself with 
 golden sheaves of wheat, it is a living dome, it 
 is a cluster of waving plumes. Again and 
 again does one form and color merge into 
 another ; and always, just as I am about to say 
 "Ah! this is the loveliest!" another change 
 makes me leave the words unsaid, to be sure 
 whether the new be not the best. 
 
 The splendor sinks at last to rise no more ; 
 yes, it is gone. And I must be gone, also. 
 The necklaces of lights are hung again upon 
 
The Fairest of the Fair. 293 
 
 the margins of the Basin, and the calm seren- 
 ity of that perfect beauty wraps me about ; it 
 is unearthly — a vision of heaven — an embodi- 
 ment of those sweet and elusive thoughts of 
 beauty that haunt the soul sometimes with joy- 
 ful prophecies. But I must go. 
 
 I shall never see the Fair again, and yet I 
 have but to close my eyes and open those of 
 my memory, and there it is ! and will be until 
 I forget all things. It stands in its white 
 beauty, bathed in sun or fairy light, with the 
 peace of its Wooded Island, the medley of its 
 Plaisance, the wonderland within its Palaces, 
 and its changeful waters, holding the glimmer- 
 ing shadows of its loveliness. Like those re- 
 flections it is destined to vanish from the world. 
 But in truth it is immortal ; its virtue will spread 
 over all the earth, borne in men's hearts and 
 memories, and bearing who knows what gra- 
 cious fruits ? 
 
 Yet methinks no successor of it can be fairer 
 than its own self. A Cleopatra among cities, 
 infinite in beauty and variety, it is indeed the 
 Fairest of the Fair ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
30 93 
 

 
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