New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1870-09-18

of the archangeI, with its attitude
tude of earthly triumph, and its cOunte-
nance of unearthly beauty, surely never be-
fore cleaned from canvas or grew from mar
bic. 1t seemed to combine the merits of
both sculpture and painting, so distinctly
did the rounded limbs stand out from the
background: so brilliantly did the cleaning
colors of the face, "severe in youthful
beauty" resemble those of fresh young life
To describe with any degree of accuracy a
1.-THE OF the finest paintings in the gallery
would swell this letter out of all proportion
and some of the most important of them are
already known to your readers through en-
cravings, if not otherwise-as the depart
IRE of the Pilgrims from Deft- Haven''-a
masterpiece-and the christian Martyrs"
befo.e which stood transfXed with admi-
ration for know not how long. Another
painting which held me captive, though it
represented neither youth, nor beauty, nor
any exalted passion or sublime emotion, was
the "Penitence of st. Peter" Nay, will
take back part of that; such penitence as
that face expresses is sublime. The ardent,
impressionablc, sensitive character OF the
Prince of the Apostles appears speakingly
in those almost Quivering nOstrils. in those
streaming. Epturncd, anguished-hlled eyes.
Another picture on which l gazed with in
tense though unsatisfied interest, was the
| portrait of John BrOwn-unsatistied. for
| alas Z, it was only portrait a stiff thing,
| taken in cold blood; not picture of the
| man as he must have looked when his highly
| wrought nature was exalted to Indignation
| by the contemplation of his own private
wrongs, and that public wrong which his
influence undoubtedly helped to hasten to
its end.
Not satiated with paintings. we went
from the Athenpum to see The Emerald
Pool a scene among the White Mountains
of New Hampshire. by Berstadt. This
picture is inferior in grandeur 10 the ''iose-
mite Valley" lat least in my opinion), but
still it represents a scene OF sylvan beauty
from which it is difficult to tear oneself
away.
1t is an autumn scene ; and so natural
look the red and yellow maple leaves. float
ing on the surface of the water, that one
almost expects to see others futter off the
trees to join them. The water in the fore
ground is well named pool" 1t is STILL
and greenish, and sombrc. Ii seems as if in
its solemn depths. slOping suddenly from
the shallow brink, might Turk some trtach-
erous Undine, beguiling. many an unthink-
ing youth to a tragic doom. While the gay
conspiring woods looked on and clapped
their hands IL the sunlight.
From the darkcnened room where the
genius of painting had thus intiamed
nv imagination to the poetic point
we passed into the glaring crowded
streets again; and, leaving the com
mon and the public gardens for future
occasion, visited the public library The
announcement, "Open to ALL" conspicuous
ly displayed outside the entrance, gave me
thrill of delight, which was intensified by
meeting in the hall, as we entered. bare
footed poorly dressed boy, walking slowly
and stumblingly along. with bis eyes buried
in book which he held opeu in his hand.
"Open to all'-that splendid library with
its thousands of volumes Il do not know
how many, as figures are not my forte, and
its maps. and pictures, and busts and news
papers. and periodicals; and, above all. its
influence for study and seifimprovement.
How | wish we had such a library. so con-
Quoted, in New Orleans.
The library occupies two large rooms, in
the lower of which were many persons,
among them several boys, porting over books.
The stairs leading up to the second room
were lined with fine French colorcd en-
cravings, copies of the masters, upon which
had to look notwithstanding the pictO-
rial feast had already enjoyed. The up
per room is galleried, as IN most public
| libraries, and the walls are lined with books.
| The splendid library OF Theodore Parker,
wiIled by him to this institution, fills one
| side of the gallery. 1t was a nluniticent
legacy.
| We finished this first effort to 'do Boston
| By dining ar the Parker House, splendid
hotel kept in the restaurant style, and fire.
| uuentcd by the daily visitors to Boston from
| the neighboring towns and villages as well
| as by the citizens themselves. Here may
| be obtained any desired kind of meal, from
| the simplest to repast that would satisfy a
| syborite. We were four at table, and We're
all prepared to enjoy Parker's best; the
| stay-at- homes. as well as the sight-seers.
Having spent one day amid the tumult of
| civilization. we resolved to devote the next
| to the quiet enjoyment of Nature. There
| are in the neighborhood of Boston and
Lexington several beautiful sheets of water,
| which go by the unpretending name OF
Ponds" | call them cakes Foremost
| among these for size and natural beauty is
| Walden, .cOnsecrated by the residence on its
shores OF the hermit-poet, Thoreau, and
made famous by his book. Alas ! for Wal
den. Its beauty and it's fame have
| been the cause of it's degradation-bu OF
| this hereafter. Almost rs beautiful, though
| not so large. is Lincoln Pond, which has the
| immense advantage of still enjoying its
| sylvan privacy. To it We repaired this
| lovely August morning, small, almost a
| family party, in high spirits, with well
| filed baskets. few books ia weakness OF
one of our number,, and no lack of that
sweet companiOnship without which such
an excursion is incomplete-I mean, OF
course. that of children The road to Lin
| coin Pond is one of the most beautiful
| where all are so, part of it being directly
| through a spruce-scented wood, bOrdered
| by fairy ferns, shaded by gaily-tinted
naples, and enlivened by occasional
| giimpses, through unexpected openings. OF
| distant hills and orchards. The weather
| was delightful. and all nature seemed s. III
a holiday mood In Just such a wood
l II i
can imagine 2e sportiye kosalnd fona h;e
tie enamored Orlando, ignorant of her
charming identity. ran about like simple
| ton, carving her name on every tree
After leaving the wood we came upon q
| small country graveyard the most remark
| able tomb of which is a plain marble shaft,
| standing close to the roadside. and inscribed
| with these words only:
| POLLY JONES,
Died August 70. 1913,
Ageb 80.
Who was Polly Jones, and who erect ed
| this tomb in her honor What was her his
tory! Was she maid, wife or widow, "How
| lived, how loved how died she - That she
had been loved, the afectionate. dimnutiyt
span Of her tombstone certified for what
woman but loveable one was ever called
Polly" That she was unmarried, we al
assumed. though why we should hardly
| know. After much talk on the subject, anc
many sl,rnlises, we rested in the belief that
Polly Jones " must have been one of thost
rosy. Jolly, Ioveabie old maids. whose kind
smiling eyes and ready, helpful hands shed
grace and poetry on the unwcdded state
ANA lead the unprovided-fo for ,damsels of hel
acquaintance to cxcaim with partial sin
cerity: II would not mind being an Ole
maid, if could be like Polly Jones"
Lincoln Pond is lovely lakelet, of irreg