The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1858-03-25


PHILADELPHIA, March i, SO.
Have you anything like winter in Mime
sotas Until few days past, We here
thought that the God Of the Seasons had
reckoned up his years sum, leaving winter
out. We feared that you, of the farthest
north, had stingiy kept all the snow and ice
to yourself, while We were rejoicing in an
unusually prolonged autumn. But, sir. Jack
Frost came along a fortnight ago, as sun
dry red noses and purple cheeks testified.
Philadelphia has been, l believe, quite
brilliant and gay during this SO. disaa win
ter. The lessee of the fine opera-house has
grown rich, in spite of the hard times and
the close money market. En- PdsMni, how
princely these hard times have made poor
people feel. I've watched with a magnif-
cent pity the fall and crash of splendid for
tunes ; for in fact, the millionaire has been
the pitiable object, whilst the beggar at his
gate whistled at the wind of fortune, let it
blow anywhere, anywhither There is COM
pensation in all things.
But let me write you about local matters.
One day when strolling down Chestnut
street, ! was attracted by double-sheet
poster, bearing upon it in large type
Beatrice Cence, Sleeping on the Eve of
Her Execution. Life Size Statue BY Mrs.
II. Hosmer." was naturally and irresist-
IDLY drawn in TO look at this work, OF which
had seen but few notices Entering
darkened hall, draped in purple, and silent
as death, ] stood alone in the presence of
this wondrous creation of feminine genius.
A sort of strange, cold thrill crept along my
nerves, and seemed to settle with a death-like
damp about the heart. There was an awe
pervadlng the very atmospheric damp,
vaulty feeling that | could not quite account
for Being oil alone, yielded to my i'm
pulses. and sinking into chair, shaded my
eyes for q few moments.
When sufficiently relieved and selEpos-
sessed, let my gaze rest upon the statue.
am no artist; no diletanti, not even stu
dent of art; but I know what pleases me,
though not always uAy it does. And Miss
Hosmer has spoken to my very soul in this
stone-cut-poem of hers. Beatrice has fallen
asleep from utter worn-outness the asscr-
! ton Of the physical over the mental-the
! gui sleeps IN spite Of herself. From one fair
and shapely hand, depends the rosary and
crucifix, whilst the other pillows her young
girlish head There is an abandon and
browse about the slumbrous attitude painful.
! ly suggestive Of the weary day she has just
passed. 1t seems as ii she had suddenly
thrown herself down upon the block and
fallen asleep unconsciou-ly. The left foot,
encased in slipper, is extended, whilst the
right is drawn beneath her person. The
hair so richly redundant has escaped from
the little classic cap, and floats negigently
over the back and shoulders the face is, in
detail, very much like copies of Guid'os
portrait, which ] have seen. except that II
is more sentimental in expression, and less
round and youthful. There is look of pain
in the fine lip and thin nostri whilst
scmi-shade seems TO hang over the brow as
though it did not consent" to " death" |
don't know what critics and Judges may say,
but know that tears were thick and last
to my eyes and it was with difficulty !
could keep from iinging my arms around
the statue OF that sad, fair young creature
who slept on the eve Of the day that was to
seal her tragic fate. Surely she has done
well. who can thus move a heart, uncultured
though it he.
! rejoice that the artist is a woman. an
American woman, who has fought her way
up to distinction, and wrung from harsh
hearts the suilrage.oi at least, artistic equal.
ity with her brothers.
We have also been favored with collec-
ton Of British pictures, mos, of which are
IRE Raphtlltes---some very fine--each one
distinctive and individual, as though it be-
longed to different school. believe this
collection Is pronounced superior to the
French, which has just preceded it. A, the
Academy Of Fine Arts, England shows her
bard. strong Saxon power even in art
Where she draws a line, she is sure she does
IT with force. The Lion is in all-that great
firm British Lion that yields to nothing bui
orr Eagle u
The theatres are all doing good business,
and everything begins TO promise better
times.
We heard a good joke upon literary la.
dy, lev days ago. She was salying out
Tor promenade, tianked right and left by
beau. tthe one thing needfuI OF modern
tIlne) when from the hegirs of button or
hook, she lost her hoops, and in a moment Of
modification, she began to cough furiously,
whist she hastily gathered up the kite-lke
article of dress, and rushed into an adjoining
shop.
What is the matter with tina, woman!"
asked passer.
oh" replied her witty escort, only an
attack Of the tw)boop'Ng cough
Adieu. MATTE.