The new dominion. [volume] (Morgantown, W. Va.) 1876-1904, 1884-12-20
HISTORIC CITIES.
A Bird's-Eye View of Some of the Cities
Famous in Story and Song.

A Bird's-Eye View of Some OF the Citfei
Famous in Story and Song.
Alexandria sits demurely by the sea
an Oriental maiden attracted to the
sandy shore of the Mediterranean Il
barter her spices. silks, mats, with inf
del, concluding to remain there and
wander no more.
Jaffa lifts up her head from rocky
cliff, and with one hand salutes the
Mediterranean, and with the other well
comes the caravans from Damascus and
Jerusalem. Jerusalem is still the child
of faith, dwelling where little grows,
where there is naturally little trade, OF
commerce, or manufacturing; drawing
her supplies mysteriously from the rocks
and the skies; yet different races, differ.
ent religions, different civilizations be-
lieve in her and huddle together about
her, awaiting something that does not
appear.
Jerusalem, sitting alone on the rocky
side of Judea, is the sublime child OF
faith, coming of faith in the past, look
ing forward to the future by faith.
from the ALBANIA or Baroda, mysterious
ly changing its musical waters into olive
groves, tropical luxuriance and teeming
population, and sitting in queenly robes,
with her feet in the sands of the desert
of the Hanron, amid mosques and min
arets, and robed men, smoking the mar
gileh on divans, or by playing fountains
or cooling streams.
Beirut, standing proudly on PENN
sula-shaped headland on one side of a
beautiful crescent bay, is the CONNER
cial or. moral mistress of Syria, sending
the currents of life up the French high
way to Damascus, as the heart sends
the blood through the artery to the
head.
Smyrna is the mistress of two ages
and civilizations, reposing on a quiet
plateau by the sea, welcoming the COM
merce of the West, guarding the grave
of Polycarp and the manners and forms
of the East.
Constantinople at distance is the
slightest of the cities, but on approach
ing near you see she wears mask, and
behind that mask you perceive restless
ness, discomfort, perfdy and sullen wait
ing for revolutionary chaos.
Athens is the bride of the cities. She
holds in one hand a broken marble
pointing to the ruins of her art in the
heroic ages-the art which has con-
quered the woodland in the other the
scepter of new springing power
Naples, as we approach it by steamer
from the south and around the point,
rises up out of the sea as charming,
timid apparition shrinking away from
Vesuvius, who holds smoking brand
in one hand, shaking it over her head,
and yet afraid to go in the other direc-
ton, as he thrusts the other hand in his
subterranean pocket, touching the secret
springs that let off commissions in Ischia
and the regions beyond her.
Rome, the attractive, the interesting,
the historic, the hider and the revealer
of the secrets of her mother, the mis-
tress of the World" sitting in royal
art and history-is nothing else, in form,
so much as she is saint. She is the
high priestess in her tent of the cities of
the earth. Religion is scrolled upon
her buildings, outside and inside, on
her streets, on her calendar, on her
garments, on her food and manners.
do not know how far this sainthood
strikes in, or what it is worth. / speak
only of color.
Florence, one of the Queens, reposes
half-asleep, half-awake, in beautiful
cradle of the Apeninnes, dreaming over
the splendors of the past, displaying
still matchless profusion of art treas
ures, and beguiling those who come I'M
der the influence of her charms through
labyrinths of plastic and painted beauty.
Venice, the daughter of commerce,
sits with her feet in the Adriatic, snuff
ing the breezes of the sea, Drowned and
weather. beaten and her robes soiled, as
she toyed with the gondoliers and water
sprites so long.
Paris is the city of sentiment. Not so
much of ideas or principles, or even
prudence or policy, as sentiment, reigns
The inspiration Of her patriotism is the
love of glory; of her letters and art, the
desire to crafty artificial demands and
tastes rather than to exalt humanity;
of her efforts in dress and manners, to
create and maintain bland, imperial
SOuoCoS, l. dSAlOIIs etA0 COlAPCl OlucIS
worship at his shrine. Sentiment is the
height and depth, length and breadth
of the popular feelings. 1t is curious to
note that painters and sculptors in Paris
do not rely on the expression of soul, of
character, in their works so much as on
intrinsic circumstances, sensational atti-
tudes, combinations, adjuncts. If you
see statue of Liberty on a column in a
public square, she is represented as
standing on tip-toe on one foot, throw
ing the other far up in the air behind,
leaning far forwardwith flaming torch
in her hand, and her wings spread, as
if eager to leave the spot and fly away
to the ends of the earth, while your
whole thought is absorbed in the figure,
and you have no interest in the face.
You see no character, no truth, no ideal.
You have sensational display. Yet
Paris in her clean robes is attractive and
beautiful. ALBANY Cypress.