The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1892-04-24

palaces--the PalaZZo Barberini-with its
rare art treasures and the luxuriance of
beauty with which nature has decked it,
Is almost as well known as are the artist
and his works. As the doors of this home
are always open to earnest, thoughtful
visitors-though kings and queens of in
tellect and OF society esteem it a privilege
to spend an hour within them--let us en-
ter, too. But first, ring softly the many
voiced chime at the outer portal; then
walk through the long corridor with its
carved and gilded woods and push aside
damask drapery at the left, cross one of
the cheeriest of home dining-rooms, and
provided we are not in regulation costume
we may pass the Threshold of Little b.
hernia" as the favorite gathering place of
the family IS suggestively called: possibly
you may find beside the family choice
friend or two, Sir Charles Newton, Har-
riet Hosmer or some equally congenial
spirit, conversing unrestrained but all hap
PLY regarding the imperative mandate,
mo dress coats may enter here" The
rooen is full of just such lights and shad-
ows as harmonic best with dear COM
panionships; there are portraits of Mr.
Story's beautiful mother and grand
mother, by Stuart and by Trumbull; of
the children of the household; of Poca-
hontas, the Indian princess, from whom
Mrs. Story is descended fragments of
familiar scenes, and classical as reliefs:
a photograph of Mr.. Story that looks
like the reincarnation of an old master;
and there are other photographs such
as our Bishop Whipple and the
Brownings; there are broad, soft couches,
deep cushioned antique chairs, an open
piano, brilliant Japanese screens, lovely
frescoes, the breath of Parma violets, and
by the side of the open CRATE whose snap
ping, cracking logs send glow into every
corner of the room, there IS the chief light
h. -. -
mistress, who can never be aught but beau
tiful in her matronly dignity.
Almost reluctantly We leave this room
and this time, to come again, now across
the corridor, and to the right, by way of a
tapestried room or two, down few stems
and through a gilded door, into the pretty
theater that is the entrance to a magniti-
cent suite of reception rooms. On the
crimson velvet diyans, in the gilded chairs
and on the great fauteils of silver and
gold brOcade, there is seated a notable
company whose attention is concentrated
upon the pretty and perfect stage. The
play tonight is 1.-The Merchant of Venice"
and the master of the house is enacting
the role of Shylock. Enacting the role.
did say? Nay, rather he is Shyloek, and
he is investing the character of the
hitherto dispised jew with pathetic dig
nifty. As he cries: 81 would that she
(Jessica) were dead at my feet-with her
jewels in her ears" q significant pause,
that with the after modulations, makes
the company see and feel Shylock as the
actor lnterprets him. there Is q silence,
then burst of applause that is scarce re-
strained until the entrance of Jessica her
self (his daughter Editha). a perfect
Jessica. so perfect indeed in looks and
dress and movements and enunciation,
that an enthusiastic voice from the COM
pany-that of Fanny Kemble--cries,
La
so we will leave this gathering and come
yet once more.
Follow me now. back through the thea
ter, the state dining-room and the billiard
room-to the beautiful .red drawing
ROOM" the sun is pouring a full tide OF