Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1889-03-21

The paintings that might linn even To
ignorant eyes the history of art from
its Byzantine dawn through its Medi-
elan noon-l dare not name its evening
red-the shrines that love and graft
tude-and superstition, il you will
have reared with all that wealth could
summon of skill and splendor, mould
ing and carving, all cunning tracery Of
stone and twisted marble and statued
bronze, the glory and story of stained
glass moro beautiful than gems-it is
maddening to think what lies there
open to the soul yet barred TO the body
by the steady inSurmountable cold. If
the soul could but slip into one of these
bronze bodies for awhile and mind tho
cold no more than they!
And if King Humbert would dismiss
q few Of the regiments that are pepetu-
ally marching and counter-marching
across the bridges, drilling on the sub
urban fields and parading through the
narrow streets; and would appropriate
the money so saved to warming his gall
leries and his churches, he might make
the unity and preservation OF italy the
aifecti0nate and rcyercnt care of Chris
tendon.
Let no man say that il is a difference
Of constitution, that IL is more healthy,
that the Italians like it, that they would
perish in our warmth. | never saw q
consciously colder, more uncomforta-
BILE looking population, than the
Milanese. Marion's nose was always
red and raw. The readiness OF com
pleXion was the raw bsefsteak ruddi-
nf nAp1Agf,ra1 .Al1 -,
faces of those who were well wrapped.
The peasant Italian woman went out.
shielded as 20 her shoulders with
fimsy three cOmered neclSerchief and
with her hands folded away as far as
might be from the cold under cotton
apron. They did not enjoy the cold.
They did mind it. They shivered and
shook. They stood bent and with chat
tering teeth against it. Every look and
gesture and attitude betokened a hand
to-hand fight with it. A thousand de-
formities and distortions betrayed some
great physical antagonism. They never
would have borne il If they had
known there was more excellent way
the American way. From NOvem-
Der to Mny there is just rs much need
OF fire. do not say need Of just as
much fire-in Italy as in New England
but Italians only partially understand
the uses Of fire. | question If peasant
Italy is proprietor of freside. In
hotels fire seems TO be thought some
thing to look at, something that for
eigners demand, something TO make an
item in the bills. A wood-box and
draught seems TO satisfy all the re-
quirements. What is to be burned,
where the fireplace or stove shall stand.
whether the fire difuse warmth, or
have any relation to the circumambient
air, is neither here nor there. II it
can be sequestercd in remote corner,
behind n bed or bureau, so much the
better An armful OF punk, stray
Cling or struggling brush, such rs a
Yankee farmer burns by the heap on
the hillside of November evening.
are as good Us solid oak or old hickory
in the eyes of the hoSpitable Italian
landlord; because he looks upon fire as
a moral and not material necessity.
Modern Italian art, in a spasm of
household decoration. overlaid the top
of stove | know, with red Gotten
velvet lambre luin as 'twere, fringing
down over its beetling brows to the
place where the flames ought to be;
nor was the touching national trust be-
trayed, for weeks of fire laid no smirch
upon its cotton comeliness.
If was called upon TO summarize
Italian winter weather il would be-
with u tear and a smile, Old World
but it would be:
Milan-Dull, faded, yellow, thick,
hoar-frosty, ll-penetrating cold.
Bologna-Grim, ungainly, ghastly.
hopeless, overpowering cold.
Venice-Bright, sunshiny, shivering,
still, satiric, hypocritical cold.
Naples-Yielding, promising, vacil-
lating, gracious bat with ominous
hints coming up over the Mcditerl'a-
mean, OF sealsllin sacques under the
eternal sun OF the African desert!
OF the historical destinations of Eu-
rope too much cannot be said; and
when felt, nothing seems ever to have
been said. One walks forever with
the dead, facing forever eternal life
We dwell in a perpetual dream more
real than the day. But because we
must live yet little while bound 10
cell and tissue flow gently sweet Mer-
rimac to the delightful blast of furnace
fires, and the merry crackle OF sawed,
split maple from your forest still abun-
dant We have but thin lamination
OF history beneath our feet but benig-
nant thermometer hangs seventy-high
on the walls OF your happy home. New
York Graphic.