"Christ and the Children," by Julius Schmid, wuz beautiful as could be.
And so wuz "The Death of Autumn," by Franz Pensinger—they held in 'em all the sadly glorious beauty of the closing year.
"The Three Beggars of Cordova," by Edwin Weeks, wuz dretful interestin'.
Them tramps set there lookin' so sassy, and lazy, nateral as life. Lots of jest such ones have importuned me for food on my Jonesville door-step.
Them tramps set there lookin' so sassy and lazy, nateral as life.
Then he had two Hindoo fakirs that wuz real interestin'. The fur-off Indian city, the river, and the fakir a-layin' in the boat, tired out, I presoom, a-makin' folks stand up in the air, and climb up ladders into Nowhere, and eatin' swords, and eatin' fire, and etcetry.
He wuz beat out, and no wonder. The colorin' of this picter is superb.