ESKIMO WOMAN AND CHILDREN.
ESKIMO GROUP WITH SNOW HOUSE.
Though they spent a long time in this building, they were dissatisfied when they came away. There was “so much too much” to see. A relief-map of San Francisco, the knight “Sir Preserved Prunes,” the grizzly bear modeled from life, the piece of Laura Keene’s skirt showing dark stains where Lincoln’s bleeding head had rested, the exhibits of school-work,—drawing, modeled maps, and exercises,—and especially the stage-robbery exhibition made by the Wells Fargo Express Co., delighted both the boys. Then, too, there were paintings—one of Leland Stanford driving the last railroad-spike uniting the Central Pacific and the Union Pacific railroads, several of scenes in midwinter, showing trees in full leaf—in short, the California show sent two Eastern youngsters away full of hearty admiration for the young giant of the far Pacific coast.
THE ESKIMO AND THEIR DOGS.
But by this time, useful knowledge was palling upon the two friends, and they gladly agreed to go back to the Eskimo village, which they had seen just as they turned south toward the Californian mission-house. They deposited two quarters, surrendered two tickets, and walked into Greenland, only to be disappointed in the show. The sledge was upon wheels, which the boys hadn’t bargained for—though they hardly expected real ice-floes; and the row of bark huts were dark and commonplace. The natives themselves looked furry and real, and the reindeer and dogs were interesting.
“THE SLEEP OF THE FLOWERS.”
A Bas-relief on the Horticultural Building.
Two of the Eskimos, one the well-known young “Prince,” held whips in their hands, ready to dislodge coins that might be set up as targets. Harry threw down a five-cent piece. The man stuck it up on edge, and then the whip-cracking resounded through the air. Judging by the number of shots they made unsuccessfully, Harry calculated that a five-dollar bill would have lasted them a month; but he didn’t try it.