“It was not until about July 1 that the denizens of the merry Midway got their houses and shops in order, and settled down to business. They easily made up for lost time, however, and during the four bright happy months that followed, the famous street was far and away the principal popular attraction of the Fair. Those who went to spend the whole day at the Exposition, equipped with lunch, camp chair, and guidebook, usually turned up in the Plaisance about every two hours. Others who made briefer visits to the park either began or ended them in the same attractive quarter. School teachers, who made out their programme for the educational features in the Liberal Arts building, generally landed in Cairo Street. Students of sculpture who went with the best intentions of studying the marble models in the Art Palace, ended by studying living models in the Moorish Palace. Ministers who hoped to prepare themselves for missionary work, were easily persuaded that they would be best equipped by looking over the Dahomeyans and South Sea Islanders. And as to young America—well, the day for him was not done till he had tossed off half a dozen or more bumpers of beer in Old Vienna.
“All this is now a memory. The places that knew these merry parties shall know them no more forever. The Samoan now sits serenely under his island palm; the Bedouin is again astride his steed, and with shaded eyes looks off across the desert; the Egyptian 'neath the shadow of the mighty pyramids, recounts the marvels of his half year in the New World; and the sad-eyed Cingalese woman tells her sisters in 'the gorgeous East’ about the wondrous West; while the American, whose energy and genius reared it all, now sees those sights through a darkened glass, and faintly hears the once familiar sounds, muffled and indistinct, as of a distant troop of boys at play. He goes plodding on in paths of busy commerce, farther and farther along, till time and distance intervene, and Midway sights grow dimmer still, and Midway sounds sink to a whisper.”
These then are the feelings that cause the Thespian such sorrow. He hates to think that before snow flies this gay scene will have vanished as a dream, never to be seen again.
“Cheer up, my dear fellow,” says Aleck, “there will be other fairs as great as this.”
“But never again a Midway. However, let us throw dull care to the winds. It ill becomes us to mourn, we who are butterflies of the hour. What would you now, my lord?”
Wycherley smiles again—the passing of his grief has been very rapid—for his nature is buoyant.
“I have no plans. We can move around until it is time to go. I am impressing this scene on my mind so that at any future day I may reproduce it by simply closing my eyes. When before now, on American soil, could you see such groups as that sauntering along?” nodding in the direction of a squad of Algerians and Moors walking past, clad in the turban and caftan, burnoose and colored robes of their class, with the inevitable heavy slippers on their feet.
Close behind come a trio of Celestials chattering like parrots, while in sight at the same time are one or more natives of India, Dahomey, and Lapland, representing the antipodes. It is the bringing together of people who live at the frozen north, and those from the burning equator; the exposition of their home life, their peculiar habits, their war customs, and marriage ceremonies, that lends such a charm to a gathering like this. Contrast it by a visit to the Liberal Arts building and see what civilization does for the human family, what wonderful treasures are within the grasp of everyone who lives to-day in an enlightened community.
Just as the squad of Moors and Algerians move past in their sauntering way, Wycherley is heard to utter an exclamation.