New-York tribune., 1878-02-02


we're lobster te prevailing grace would be moi per-
hans exactly Pompeiian but say Cape Cod red. III
sunothered oysters, we should have napkins OF dap-
plcd grey, while the doyleys of a cbicEen saiad
might hang nuttering on the veXed question whethcr
the soul Of the bird had rendered himself from Leg
horn or Shanghai. AVIS being an artist. had very
vague ideas on te subject of unbeached cotton she
sat looking with wide eyes, like an liJ'ieu
goddess when Coy spoke to her of r0ller-cloths anu
wondered how she had brought herself INTO "a
world where the fringe upon towel was q matter
of moment; but she would have Ynk uoyieys'
Amt Chloe thought Avis might have learned to act
bread while she was painting feathers on her china
and. while the tinware was of small account, it was
imperative that Aunt Chloe should not pat scarlet
cricket or q purple tidy in the same yOom with a
maroon curtain. But il is idle to set up a repu-
tation for art on so slender a foundation These
are the very cudites OF color Pink dOyeys are NOT
imperative and may be vulgar. There is no creme
de Ia creme in feeling the rose-tint OF the linen,
the bronze prism on the cup the Pompelian icd on
the walls the japanese cOlOring of the screens
Long before we began our minute dabs at art our
Aunt Chloes were disporting themselves Win
painted china, so beautiful that we set singie cup
and saucer of it on our shelves treasure of art
Where we buy red flannel insect at Whineys and
button-hole-sttch it upon piece OF cohec-bag our
uubleached cotton grandmOtherS were embroideimg
birds and Aowers on satin. tracing with The needle
outlines as graceful and tintng III floss SILK cCiorS
as brilliant rs artistic Avis put into the
bronze prism on hcr china service. De
cause Avis happened to think she would wear her
carmnc only for Philip, cher soul seemed hlied
with fine reserves winding corridors of fancy closed
rooms Of thought deep recesscs of feeling But
never. suppose, from the foundation Of the world
lived pair of lovers who did not consecratc ont OF
the profane common universe some special sanctty
for their own private use and behOOf; but whoever
thought of founding on il an architectural monop-
DIV In her orange-water dream the fern garden OF
Avis was a melody in green. Her library was mar
mony in green and gray. Her clm-trec room was a
melody in blue. In her own room she had gathered
the shades OF the rose. Ii is all we'll enough, but
why, to use Miss Phelps's own words. accentu-
ate it soi Thousands of rooms are melodies
IN rose and harmouics in blue and gold. cabbage
cart has Just gone by half covered with an old green
quilt SO completely in accord, that itwas difficult
to tell where the cabbagcs softly surrendered their
outline to the quilt. 1t was melody i'll green. ii
the delighted eye and could take IN the crowd OF
rollicking little Ethops that swarmed over the neb
ii might be a harmony in black and green bat they
would have spoiled it all by posing for the pctuT-
esque An artist might put hammock III her bedroom
il.
cracefnllv-but of cold blood to putt there because
against the color of the walls and drapery, 1t
had peculiarly delicate and negligent effect seems
to contravcne the very first principles of art The
trouble with Miss Phelpss presentation of Avis as
an artist is that il is not much calculated To IN
spire love of art as love of being thought artistic
But there is no iron-cad standard of art. Taste Is
a matter of climate, of caprice, of fashion. The
rage of to-day is the caricSturc of tomorrow. lhc
artists themselves at perpetual hstcuiis. Let us
not take on airs, but enjoy without fear and With
manly heart.
Events that are occurring while / write these
words induce meat the risk of appearing to deVi-
ate reluctantly into politics-to remark that any
little structures may make upon my beloved Nlassa-
chusetts are not TO be construed into general
license for other people to fling stones at her.
flip her as occasion rises for true heart and not for
HARM Because love. | rebake and chastcn. But
let no little commonwealth, mere Outcomes aud OIL
shoots venture to take liberties with her on that
account Did she dsappTOve OF the war OF 1872 7
| am glad of it. What did we gam by the war!
Did she refuse vote Of thanks to the commander
of the Horncti What of thatl Massachusetts
expects every man to do his duty without vote
of thanks Docs she blow her own trumpcti The
winds of heaven are free to all, and Gideon, the
son Of Joash the Abiezrite, suggested the perfect
remedy; when / blow with trumpet, and all
that are with me, then blow ye the tTumpets also
Avis counted it the great triumph of her life that
she could love her husband just az he was. That way
we her children, love Massachusetts, That way we
the rusics kiss the hem of tine garments of our Bos
ton We grant her sms and her sclisms, her
somewhat frivolous sOlemnities. and her terribly
solemn frivoities; but for all that that she
cuts a broad swath. We stood at gaze, like Joshuas
moon in Ajalon, when she went up to Wor-
cester last Fall and prostrated herself on tho
ground and rolled over and over i'll the dust.
and scoOped out a hole to lie in, to ex-
press the depth of her submission to the
policy of surrender, and some Of us, behind the
looms of Lowell, over the ploughs of Essex, under
the shadows of Berkshire did not recover breath in
season to go up to the polls and vote, that the
Republican majority collapsed suddenly from 30 900
TO 10 600; but the strength of the hills is there.
Maine spoiled child that she is. shake her little
fists, and the overTOwn West rollick in ncw-felt
manhood, and the wayward sisters inngle flowers
and scowls. But every man, woman and child OF us
all saws in his serene heart:
"You may spurn, you may scorn you may fout ne,
But ! have a notion 'tis only play,
And that say what will, and do what you may,
You can't well do without me-"
GAIL HAMILTON.