The next mornin’ we went onto the ground, (Mr. Fairmount’s farm, where the Sentinal stands) in good season. I told Josiah we would go the first thing to the Artemus Gallery.
“Artemus who!” says he. “I didn’t know as you knew any Artemus down here.”
Says I with dignity, “I don’t know the gentleman’s other name myself; they call him Art, but I wont; I have too much respect for him to nick name that noble man.” Says I, “When any man takes such pains as Artemus has, to git such a splendid assortment of pictures and statutes together for my pleasure, and the pleasure of the Nation, I admire and respect him, and feel almost affectionate towards him.”
Presently, or soon after, the soft grey walls of that most magestic, and beautifulest of housen, loomed up before us as we passed up into it by some broad noble steps with a bronze horse on each side—lookin’ considerable in the face like our old mare—only higher headed with wings to ’em. I told Josiah that if she (the mare) was fixed off like them with wings, we shouldn’t be all day a goin’ a mile or two. And he said, after lookin’ close and thoughtfully at the span, that he couldn’t take a mite of comfort a ridin’ after ’em, they looked so curious. So we went on, by them and two as big female statutes as I most ever see, with their minds seeminly rousted up and excited about sunthin’. But we hadn’t much more’n got inside the door, when we felt curious again, both on us, a seein’ George Washington a ridin’ up to heaven on the back of a eagle. George always looks good to me, but I never see him look heavier than he did there; he would have been a good load for a elephant. Oh what a time that eagle was a havin’! I never was sorrier for a fowl in my hull life.
But oh! what lovely forms and faces was round me on every side, as I moved on. Grace, and beauty, and sublimity, and tenderness, and softness all carved out of hard stun marble for my delight; all painted out on canvas and hung up for me to smile upon and weep over—for beauty always affects me dretfully. One little piece of beauty that I could take up in my hand, such as a bit of moss, or a sea shell, or a posey, has made me happy for over half a day. A pussy willow bendin’ down to see its face in the water, has reflected its grace and pretty looks right into my soul. Why even a green grass blade in the spring of the year has had power to cut the chains that bound my spirit down to unhappiness, and let it soar up nobly, clear away from Jonesville, Betsey Bobbet, Widder Doodle, and all other cares and worryments of life. And havin’ such feelins for beauty, such a close affection for her that I was always a lookin’ for her, even where I knew she wasn’t nor never would be; jest imagine what my emotions must have been to walk right into acres and acres of the most entrancin’ beauty; miles and miles of grace and loveliness; dreams of immortal beauty caught by artist souls from heaven knows what realm of wonder and glory, all wrought out in marble, and painted on canvas for me to wonder at, and admire over, and almost weep upon.
The tears did run down my face every few minutes all through that Artemus Gallery, entirely unbeknown to me; and I shouldn’t have sensed it at all if I had cried out loud, for I was perfectly carried away from myself for the time bein’.
Oh what beautiful little white stun childern there was before me, in every beautiful posture that childern ever got into—a laughin’ and a cryin’, and a feedin’ birds, and a pickin’ thorns out of their feet and a hidin’ and a seekin’. And one little bit of a girl baby was holdin’ a bird in her hand, and she had bared her little chest on one side and was squeezin’ up the flesh to form a breast, and holdin’ up the bird to nurse. The roguish looks of her face would almost make a grindstun or Zebulin Coffin smile. And there was one gittin’ ready for bed, and one tellin’ his prayers when he didn’t want to. He looked exactly as Thomas J. did when I married his pa. He had run wild, and wouldn’t pray; I’d git him all knelt down, and he’d say:
I wont lay me down to sleep,
I wont pray the Lord my soul to keep,
I wont die before I wake,