_The “Golden Doorway”_ — _Transportation Building_ — _An
Endless Array_ — _Bicycles, Boats, and Bullock-wagons_ — _The
Annex_ — _The Railroad Exhibits._
[Illustration: THE CROWD COMING IN WITH LUNCHES.]
From the steps of the Mining Building the boys looked over toward the
“Golden Doorway” of the Transportation Building, and made up their
minds that it looked promising. By this time the white buildings
had made them glad of the fancy harlequin costume worn by the
autumnal-colored member of this interesting family. They liked even the
angels painted along the walls, and as for the brakeman, “Mr. Land,”
they thought he appeared to be a young fellow well worth knowing.
So they entered with a readiness to enjoy whatever they should find.
But they soon discovered there was no need to make excuses for the
Transportation Building, and before long they carried out to the letter
Harry’s punning prediction, “Now we shall go into transports!”
They had missed so much at other times by leaving the galleries to the
last that this time they went at once up the stairs. But on the landing
they turned to take a view of the Lord Mayor’s Coach, an elegant
turnout, as fine as a fiddle, which made the boys think at once of poor
little Dick Whittington.
It was Harry’s proposal to go into the gallery, and he was led to
make it because there were set upon the gallery-railing two bicycles,
ridden by dummy figures of a young man and a young woman. Harry liked
bicycles, and meant some day to have “a beauty”; and he thought this
was a good opportunity to get points.
[Illustration: FIGURE OF BRAKEMAN, TRANSPORTATION BUILDING.]
He got points; in fact, he picked so many points that he couldn’t
remember them, for there were bicycles enough in the gallery to
bend all the backs in a city into the letter “C.” But before
examining these, the whole party were glad to give some time to Mrs.
French-Sheldon’s camping-outfit and traveling sedan-chair. Shortly
described, it was just a basket on poles, but it was sumptuously fitted
up with cushions and awnings, and most ingeniously contrived so as to
be light, comfortable, and convenient.
“She’s the woman who collected all those odd things we saw in the
Woman’s Building,” said Philip.
“Yes, I remember reading about her in the papers,” said Harry. “She
carried a fine silk dress with her, and always put it on when she
received a native ruler. She seemed to think they liked it. But I have
my doubts. I believe old Sultan Alkali Ben Muddy would grin when he
was climbing back on his camel, and say to his first camel-driver, ‘The
white woman is plucky, but I must say she puts on a lot of style!’”
Really Harry could not help a feeling of great admiration for Mrs.
French-Sheldon, and he would have liked to own a tent and palanquin of
his own. Passing through a corridor of photographs showing “foreign
scenes in New Jersey,” as they heard a jocular Irishman remark, they
saw next an Indian ox-cart, heavy enough and clumsy enough to make any
civilized Buck and Bright weep. Then came a tobacco-hogshead to which
was attached a branched iron pole, so that the hogshead was its own
wheel and cart in one.
They heard a Southern girl say to her friend, “I’ve seen one just like
that in Richmond.” But she hadn’t seen the next exhibit, for it was
the model of an antique chariot found near Thebes, and supposed to be
a racing-sulky of such antiquity as to be labeled “the oldest vehicle
known.”
Harry, and indeed all three of the party, wondered at its beauty and
elegant finish. It was made of some smooth-grained wood and rounded
into exquisite curves. Harry made a hasty sketch of it, but had little
hope that he could really draw its exquisite curves when he got home.
[Illustration: BIT OF ORNAMENT, TRANSPORTATION BUILDING.]
Then they went on, to be stopped by some African palanquins, fitted
with carrying-poles, and, in sharp contrast to the Theban chariot,
an African log-canoe so rude that it looked like the Missing Link’s
private yacht. In close succession came vehicles for carrying such
different articles as babies, dolls, and cash in dry-goods shops;
but all were quite familiar to the New York boys. They found two
“bicycle-railroads” more interesting, especially the one that hung from
an overhead track.
“It wouldn’t be surprising,” said Mr. Douglass, “if we should live
to see those tracks put up over large sections of the land. For the
bicycle is capable of displacing almost all passenger-carriers except
in special cases. You see them here in this gallery so arranged as to
be ridden by one, two, or three riders, so as to carry children with
their parents, or fitted up for the use of firemen or soldiers.”
At the end of a gallery they found figures showing how Mexican donkeys
are loaded, men carrying chairs for transporting passengers over
mountain-trails, and richly attired cavaliers mounted upon finer
specimens of the same patient donkeys that carry panniers.
An exhibition of leather saddles and similar wares brought them to a
counter where whips were being covered by little bobbins revolving
about as dancers whirl in the german. These whips were also for sale
as sou—. “I wonder,” said Mr. Douglass, “that they didn’t offer to
sell us the Cliff-Dwellers’ mummies as souvenirs. They certainly would
outlast most of the cheap bric-à-brac offered for sale.”
Japan showed in this building only a few models of engineering-works,
and the boys did not give much time to her exhibit. They were most
attracted by the smaller articles displayed on both sides of the
galleries: an English sedan-chair, such as they had seen in old
paintings; a springless velocipede called the “Dandy Horse,” and dated
1810; the small model of an old stage-coach; a wonderfully fine model
of Forth Bridge, Scotland, showing a miniature train of cars hardly
thicker than a lead-pencil; a modern club canoe, side by side with
barbaric outrigger canoes from the Friendly Isles (maybe).
There was also a large model showing just what style of boat the
fishermen used upon the Sea of Galilee in the days of the Saviour; it
was a double-ended deep boat, looking as if it was very seaworthy, but
gaudily painted.
The Chamber of Commerce of the Port of Dunkerque, France, had sent to
the Exposition an enormous reproduction of the town and harbors, so
large that each house had its tiny model in the mimic town. The boys
admired this exhibit, and concluded that the money and labor expended
upon it would not be wasted; for if they had been merchants they knew
that it would have been impossible for them to forget what an excellent
place Dunkerque must be for trading.
Another exhibit which they equally praised was that of a French
steamship company which had made a “diorama,” or series of life-size
views, setting forth exactly what traveling by their line would be.
And instead of being satisfied with inferior work, they had selected a
skilled artist to paint their pictures.
One will serve as a specimen. It was a painting that represented the
last moments before sailing from Havre to New York. The spectator saw
before him the long dock crowded with the passengers. Here an old
mother was tearfully bidding her son good-by; here a party of jolly
tourists were waving handkerchiefs to friends upon the steamer. In
another spot was a lonely traveler who seemed to have no friend other
than a carpet-bag. And, in short, the whole scene was vividly rendered
with artistic power and with feeling. There were eight of these
pictures, and the boys left none unvisited.
From a little beyond this point the boys could see the full-sized
section of an ocean-steamer that reached from the floor to the roof,
that is, counting the smokestack; and the boys agreed to sample that
section before leaving. As yet, they found it hard to get through
the galleries. Just as they had made up their minds to go down the
stairs, they would come upon something that must be looked at. Such
was a Netherland fishing-boat, so quaint that Philip succeeded in
photographing it, even though the light was anything but favorable.
[Illustration: THE “GOLDEN DOORWAY,” TRANSPORTATION BUILDING.]
Still more fascinating were the German exhibits of men-of-war—little,
fierce battle-ships with rifled cannon hardly larger than
darning-needles, but every detail so finely finished that it was like
watchmakers’ work. In this series were shown all sorts of boats, from
the swift cruiser down to the tiny torpedo-boat.
“What toys men can make when they try!” said Harry, enviously. “To
think of the clumsy things that are made for children when such little
beauties as these are possible! Why, there are models of boats here in
this Fair that are so neat the King of the Fairies would feel timid
about entering them—and I wish I owned one of them, that’s all!”
But there was no time to spare for enthusiasm. Folding-boats must be
seen, and a gondola,—the last so exquisite in its fittings that the
ones out on the Lagoon were like it as an ash-cart is like a state
carriage,—and models of boats from India, whole cases of them, in all
varieties and endless numbers.
Philip walked away and sat down in a corner.
“What’s the matter, Philip?” asked Mr. Douglass—“are you tired?”
“I have been tired all the time I’ve been in the Fair,” said Philip;
“but it isn’t that. I am getting mad. I want to see things; I want to
learn about them, and remember about them. And there is no chance.
It’s like trying to pick out stars in the heavens when you don’t know
a thing about astronomy. As soon as you look at one it disappears, and
you see another.”
“Well, Phil,” said Harry, “you know we leave for home to-morrow
afternoon. Bear up—be brave; it’ll soon be over now. Come and see the
ferry-boat with the side taken out so you can understand it—if you have
time. Why, you haven’t begun to see anything yet!”
But Mr. Douglass stopped Harry with a warning look; he saw that Philip
was really getting tired out. Harry took things more easily, and was
less in earnest; but Philip preferred to see things in order, and to
study them by system. Excellent as is this rule for ordinary cases,
a World’s Exposition must be treated differently. It is possible, of
course, to study only one subject in the Fair, and ignore the rest; but
no one ever does so. Human nature will not permit of it.
Descending to the main floor they walked up to the model of the
Bethlehem steam-hammer that made an arch across the center aisle, and
after some reflections upon the statistics attached to this monster,
resolutely passed whole platoons of exhibits no visitor should miss.
Mr. Douglass and Harry left Philip to rest awhile upon a settee in one
of the side corridors, while they went through the section of the big
Atlantic Liner. Beginning at the steerage, they worked their way upward
through the office, saloon, smoking-room, and state-rooms until from
the upper deck they could see Philip’s disconsolate form far below.
[Illustration: A SECTION OF A STEAMSHIP.]
To Mr. Douglass, who had never crossed the ocean in one of these palace
steamers, the exhibit was wonderfully interesting; but to Harry it was
less of a novelty.
Returning to where Philip sat, they decided to take lunch before
going farther, and went into a small space where there was a
lunch-counter, some very independent waiters, and a slap-dash way of
serving that added no relish to the rather poor food. But the rest was
pleasant; and after lunch they felt quite able to enter the Annex,
where they found another bewildering array of locomotives, trains of
cars, torpedo-boats, car-seats, rapid-fire guns, and “other things too
numerous to mention,” as boys say in their compositions when they can’t
think of anything else.
[Illustration: THE “DE WITT CLINTON” TRAIN.]
They went through palace cars, and tourist cars, and English
railway-trains, and then sought relief by examining a military wagon
so made as to tip up and form a steel-clad breastwork. They could not
pass this, for a dummy soldier was leveling his rifle directly over the
edge, and a placard said, “Halt!” in very peremptory letters. It repaid
them for stopping, for they decided that it was new to all of them, and
a very ingenious invention.
Then leaving the building, they made their way toward home, but were
caught and held by the great express engine, shown by the New York
Central. They had often passed it, but had been reserving a more
careful examination until they should have seen the exhibits in the
Transportation Building. Now they walked through the whole train; but
they found it much like the “Limited Express” they intended to be in
next day, steaming along toward New York. The “De Witt Clinton,” the
first locomotive used in New York State, stood in front of “999,” and
looked like a dwarf kobold beside a splendidly developed giant.
[Illustration: THE “JOHN BULL” TRAIN.]
They heard some men sneeringly say, “That was the best they could do
then!” and Harry couldn’t help wondering how long the world would
have had to wait for “999” if such narrow-minded men were its only
dependence for improvement.
Crossing the broad white road, they next went into the Pennsylvania
museum of old engines and railroad appliances. Here they spent more
than an hour studying the curious history of railroad invention from
the beginning. There was a model of the “John Bull,” and of its
descendants from children to great-great-great-grandchildren. Nor was
this display confined to locomotives: there were a packet-boat, such as
Mr. Douglass remembered to have traveled in when he was a little shaver
in short trousers and velvet jacket, the still more ancient Conestoga
wagon with its boat-like body and long awning, and the old stage-coach
labeled “Twenty days from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia.”
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF A PULLMAN CAR.]
Besides these models there were relics—old tools, old lanterns, and
ticket-punches; and systems of signaling were also illustrated. But it
is impossible to recall or put down even the leading attractions of
this clever little museum.
While Mr. Douglass and Harry were looking at these cases, and at the
photographs showing views along the road, Philip wandered away to the
other side of the room, and found diagrams, charts, and pieces of
mechanism for showing the statistics of the Pennsylvania road.
Gilded blocks as large and larger than a boy’s head, showed the amounts
of silver paid to employees every hour. An obelisk built from tiny
stones represented the amount of ballast in this great railroad as
compared with the pyramid of Cheops which was constructed on the same
scale just alongside. The pyramid was nowhere in comparison. A little
globe with a railroad-track going around the equator and lapping
enough to tie in a bow-knot showed the length of this railroad system.
Two bits of rail whereon were silver dollars laid edge to edge, were
meant to show the cost of the road—a sum large enough to cover all its
rails with a row of silver dollars. Another globe had models of little
locomotives running around it, to show the number of miles covered by
trains—enough to encircle our globe every two hours. Tiny coal-carts,
drawn by clockwork up from a pretended mine, taught that two and
one-half tons of coal were burned every fifteen seconds.
Altogether Philip thought the Pennsylvania had “done herself proud”
—except in the models of railroad-men in uniform. No one, however
deeply impressed with the rest of the exhibit, would care to ride on a
road run by such men as the dummies were. Philip would not have been
surprised at a strike on the whole system if the men could have seen
those great paste-board gawks that stood in their clothes.
For the last few days they had been really studying the exhibits
instead of wandering around with an idea of being amused. As the next
day was to be their last at the Fair, Mr. Douglass made no objection to
their going once more to the Plaisance, where there was more fun than
instruction; and with this prospect in view, they forgave the tutor for
the useful knowledge they had been so steadily acquiring.
[Illustration: MODEL OF THE BRITISH BATTLE-SHIP “VICTORIA.” Sunk in
collision with the “Camperdown.”]
[Illustration: IN THE LAPLAND VILLAGE.]