Fort Worth daily gazette. (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1882-1891, 1890-03-09

istics and seems like q colored chart as seen
from the very top, and the men and women
What are they doing, those flies crawling
way, and what do their little affairs, their little
loves and mates, and wars, and notions amount
to in the universe?'' But there is not much
time for reflection, as everybody is In a Juror of
writing postals, with pictures of the tower on
them, to put in the mail box which is there, and
unless you have brought your photographic pen
you will have to wait twenty minutes in the
GARLIC PERFUMED CROWD
for q chance at the ink bottle. I remember q
nice old French workman in a blue blouse who,
when he had finished with the pen, instead Of
throwing it down and turning his b ack like an
Englishman, faced around and offered it to me
like a Christian and an American. That little
bit of consideration really made me feel at home
on the tower. Since then 1 have seen French
men offer their seats to lad les in the street car,
but not often.
We visited the exposition with the country
cousin, and enjoyed it not the less on that &C
count. 1t amused Us to note the different way
in which the country people ard the ParisiAns
viewed the exposition. The suburbans in their
marvellous caps, of which the size and construc-
ton denoted their district, and grip-sacks ever
tightly in hand gaZed with loud admiration and
wOnder-struck eyes and mouths; the city folks
glanced around nonchalently as if to say, ''1his
does very well, this little show here, but 1t is
nothing to what we could do!'' Most amusing
of all, however, were the turbaned natives of
Algeria with their bon-bons, which we recog-
though the dark-faced, merry-eved rascals
swore with all the might of their broken French
Eastern delicacies. 'Bun bun, buunie, bunnie,
bun, bun!' rose their rich, sweet voices above
all the other hustle, and when even the English
people turned to laugh at their French pronun-
citation, they showed their white teeth as mer-
But l had no intention of talking about the
exposition except to air my small opinion on
one point, which same point furnished a pivot
on which revolved for many days of wrath.
Ihe department OF the beaux arts interested me
chiefly; l looked for days at France as por-
trayed in that superb collection of French paint
ings; 1 enjoyed England in the English salons
and Switzerland, and Italy, and Greece; then,
full of expectation, l entered under the stars
and stripes and--where was America? looked
through the three rooms marked Stats Unis, but
except for a little picture of the woods in au-
tumn and a New England farm house, my coun-
try was not there. Normandy. and Normandy
peasants in abundance were there, and Paris,
and Holland, and china, and Japan, but our
grand prairies, our mountains, our mighty
lakes and rivers, our magnificent, implanted
scenery, our great wars,
OUR MEN AND WOMEN,
these were unrepresented in the Paris EXPOSE
ton; it is only foreign lands and people that
have already lived and died hundreds of times
on canvas that interest the American artists.
My heart swelled with sadness and bitterness
that America possessed no true, national artists
in whose hearts the noblest and loveliest of
countries. and her wonderful history, is re-
hected. Many prizes were marked upon the
pictures, but 1 noticed that while other rooms
were full, those of the United States were al
ways nearly empty; no one fingered there, and
why should one linger where there was nothing
characteristic to attract the eye?
Artists say there is no color in America; L
would like to take some of them home with me
and show them a Texas prairie in bloom under a
Texas sky. or an August sunset across the rich
browns of the Sun-scorched land: I would like to
show them a mesquite bush IN the spring
time, it's fine, fairy-like fringes Of delicate
green trembling under the feet of q red bird; 1
would like-but this is endless. 1 look for the
day when the artists and poets of Texas shall
arise; men and women great enough and ma
tional enough to realize and appreciate the
grandeur of their country; whose hearts shall
be filled to overlooking with her rich and origi-
nal beauty, and who will sing it in verse, and
paint it on canvas for the world to love and adj
mire. And if they cannot find any color in
Texas-let them paint without!
JESSIE CoRINNE CHAMBERLAIN.