The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1877-03-09

| ty seemed to be the impelling motive witt
the many, as the numerous expression
heard indicated. Art is modest, in tn
| form of a naked Cleopatra. These visitor
to the Hall and its Annex, though wanting
in aesthetic susceptibility, were not icono
clasts. They would not have destroyed
the sculpture and paintings as did the rab
BILE Of Brabante and Flanders in the 10TH
century. They were, from lack of culture
without susceptibility to art, and incapa.
BILE of art criticism. The effect of such ex.
hibitions is to refine and elevate, and such
we believe was the tendency in the case OF
the many who visited the art gallery. The
display, to my own mind, was suggestive
OF many things; among Others that, with US,
art should rapidly develOpe and ultimately
attain great perfection. The genius of our
institutions and training of our people are
| favorable to it. If, as has been asserted,
| freedom is the indispensable condition of
art development, then in this country
poetry and music, and sculpture and paint
Ing, must realize their highest ideals
Hayden and Mozart, and Beethoven were,
indeed, incompatible masters of art, but
all of them were superior to the repressive
age in which they lived. Their freedom
was an impulse springing from their own
nature and distinct individualism."
We three, at ~ o'clock each day, visited
the Vienna bakery, and that for several
reasons. First, we were hungry second,
we liked the unique coffee and rare biscuits
served. That coffee effervesced, or more
correctly stating it, frothed, most mysti-
flying fact to meteor a time, and so, simply
because l did not narrowly observe the
manner of its preparation. Subsequently,
teaspoonful fbeaten egg, put into the cup,
accounted for the strange phenomenon.
Schweinfurth, the African explorer, when
student, drank tea extravagantly, and
always without milk or sugar The Turks,
on the Centennial grounds, served their
coffee to their customers in the same way,
and for that reason, we did not patronize
them and for another reason, the coffee
was of the consistency of syrup, and syrup
not sweet is not relished by boy nor man.
Writing about coffee, by the well-known
principle of association, reminds me of the
habit of one of the blessed matrons of
Berkeley, in the days long gone. She
would invariably overflow the cup, and the
cups, in those days were large. protested
then against the generous custom, but
would not now, as | have become very
fond of the beverage, and especially such
as we drank at the Vienna bakery.
1t was not all Centennial with us three
Episodically, we ran down one day 10y rail
road to the sea shore. We had travelled
some, but had never seen the ocean; and
not to have seen it, would have been
lifelong regret. Our route was through
southern Jersey, that land of sands, both
permanent and shifting, reminding one Of
us of that other land, called by the an
clients, Arabia Desert" A poorer and
more torbidding country one does not Of
ten see. A continuous reach of white or
yellow sand, clothed here and there with
bush, with an occasional spot of some fer
tility, an oasis in the desert. TO the cred
it, however, of the indomitable American,
he is pushing his conquests even into this
territory, and if he conquers, he may, like
Alexander, weep that there are no more
worlds to conquer. On this route is Vine
land, New England colony, settlement
demonstrative, indeed, of the energy Of
that to us singular people, but as certainly
confirmative of the suspicion that they are
somewhat visionary. 1t is hard to under
stand why they should have located on
this waste. The motive was not that
which built Palmyra in the desert, for it
was on the highway fnatiops. We sport
ed Il few hours on the oceans shore, run
ming up and down the beach, picking up
a pebble, or a shell here and there, and
then returned to Philadelphia, to spend
another day at the Centennial.
To ], H. W., a gentleman, whose gener-
osity is exceeded only by his modesty,
your correspondent is indebted for the
visit and its pleasure, which expression of
his sense Of obligation ends the narrative.
hartford,