"And so you call this the Anthropological building?" said Uncle. "What
kind of things has it got inside to have such a name?"
"Well, Grandpa, if you desire to be enlightened scientifically, I may
say that it is a subject beginning with Adam and including the whole
human race. It is divided into five parts: zoological anthropology,
showing the differences and similarities between men and brutes;
descriptive anthropology, showing the differences and similarities
between the races; general anthropology, which is the descriptive
biology of the human race; theological anthropology, which concerns the
divine origin and the destiny of man; and ethical anthropology, which
discusses the duties of man to the world and his creator."
"Do tell! it's a pretty big subject, and no wonder it has a house to
itself."
Inside they found skulls, skeletons, bones, savage relics consisting of
dress, utensils, ornaments and weapons with amulets, charms, idols and
everything pertaining to early religions the world over.
On the eastern border of south pond was to be found the outdoor
ethnographical exhibit. Indian groups, Indian schools and everything
illustrating their primitive life and material progress.
There were objects, shell heaps, village sites, burial places, mounds,
cliff houses and the ruins of Mexico, Central and South America. To see
the same thing, and to only very little better advantage, would require
thousands of dollars and years of perilous travel.
"The more I go through these places," said Uncle "the more I feel
ashamed that I did not do my share in bringing of relics. Now I could
have brought the old nightcap that sister Susan's dead husband's
grandfather brought over from England; and I have a gridiron that my
great aunt gave me to remember her by. And there's the snuffers and the
old wood-yard rake that my grandfather made himself way back in New
England, and the dress in which my aunt Harriet was married, and the
horseshoe from the foot of the horse that killed cousin John's boy Tom,
and sister Hanner's gold fillin' of her tooth, which was the first gold
fillin' in our parts, and it came out just afore she died, and I don't
know how much more. Ain't they anthropological, ethnographic biology or
something like that?"
"I think, Grandpa, they would have been more useful in some kind of a
cabinet in the old settler's cabin, but we needn't to fret about it
any."
From here they went over to the Midway Plaisance. The "Street in Cairo"
was to be opened with a great parade of some kind and they wanted to see
it. The natives call it _Mars-al-Kabia_. In fact the Street in Cairo was
all the curiosities of Egyptian Cairo's streets crowded into one Chicago
Cairo Street. It was a splendid sight with its gardens and squares, its
temples, its towers and minaret made in the most Arabesque architecture
and ornamented with the most fantastic draperies. The inhabitants had
been directly transported from old Cairo across the sea to Midway
Plaisance. There were the importunate street venders, the donkey boys
begging and pulling at the clothing of the visitors, the pompous drivers
of camels beseeching the visitors to try their "ship of the desert;"
tom-tom pounders, reed blowers, fakirs, child acrobat beggars,
Mohammedans, Copts, Jews, Franks, Greeks, Armenians, Nubians, Soudanese,
Arabs, Turks, and men and women from all over the Levant, all in the
gorgeous apparel of the East, filling the booths or strolling about the
street. They were the happiest lot of Orientals that ever got so far
away from home. Drums were beating, camel drivers singing merry songs,
and a curious medley of voices which the earth beneath them never heard
before. At eleven o'clock somebody blew a strange kind of horn, which
made the small boy almost kill himself in his frenzy to get near to see
what it meant.
Musicians mounted the camels and began grinding out music that was
enough to frighten even a North American Indian to death. At the first
glimpse of the camels a team of steady old horses, that probably were
never frightened before, ran away with the gravel wagon which they had
been patiently dragging along. Little Arabs and Soudanese ran ahead of
the procession turning somersets and clapping their hands in hilarious
glee. There were warriors hopping about and clashing shields and swords
together in mimic battle. In front of Hagenbeck's show the lions were
aroused from their slumber in the den above the entrance, and they stood
before the bars and roared at the procession. Then the dancing girls
came skipping along, followed by a bride and her maids, for at last it
was seen to be a bridal procession that was celebrating the opening of
"Cairo street" in Chicago.
Here is the circus of the "Plaisance," where the visitors are the actors
and the clowns. Every hour can be seen a bevy of pretty girls escorted
by a brother or some dapper young man. The camel drivers hail them. What
a chance for a lark! "Let's have a ride on the back of the queer
creature," says one maiden. "Oh! you wouldn't dare," replies brother.
"Wouldn't I, though? Just watch me," is the modern maiden's response.
She approaches the dromedary, which opens one eye by way of recognition.
[Illustration: "Hurrah! It humps in front, jumps behind, and paces in
the middle."]
She passes silver to the hand of the dark-skinned menial. The other
girls giggle. A great crowd gathers round to see the fun which
experience has taught is coming. Now the bold young woman is in the
saddle, and holding tightly, as advised, to the strap which hangs near
by. The dromedary opens the other eye, shuffles his rear and longest
legs in the dust with a sound that resembles the hum of an approaching
cyclone, gathers himself for an effort, and suddenly presents to the
gaze of all beholders a rear elevation notable for its suddeness and its
altitude, if not for its architectural beauty. Though catapulted about
ten feet higher than she had had any idea of going, the American young
woman does not scream. That would be unbecoming woman in this woman's
era. She merely presses her lips tighter together, lets her smile fade
away at the corners of her pretty mouth and grasps the strap as if her
life depended upon it. The crowd, of course, laughs.
By this time the dromedary has shuffled himself some more along the
brick pavement and opened the ugliest mouth ever seen this side the
Nile. Now he shows his front elevation, and the smile which had returned
to the lips of his fair rider fades again as the other end of the
animated catapult is put into operation. But only for a moment. The
bystanders have only begun their second laugh when the American young
woman is seen to be herself again. She is out for a good time, and she
is having it. The dromedary winks three times and puts a sinuous,
swaying sort of motion into his body. His fat feet and angular legs
begin to describe semi-circles. The saddle and its rider twist and
gyrate and revolve and stop short, only to start quickly off again in
some other direction, and the triumphant journey through the "Street in
Cairo" has begun.
It is a very narrow thoroughfare, this oriental street, and it has no
sidewalks. The crowd falls to either side. As the courier of the desert
humps through the lane made open for him, his rider is seen smiling and
happy. She knows she has a pretty foot, and that it is neatly clad in
red shoes with tapering points and the most becoming of hosiery. She
knows her figure is trim, and that her cheeks are bright and her eyes
flashing. Applause follows her from the mosque to the temple of Luxor,
and rolls back again as her beast turns for the homeward march.
She has had a ride on a real dromedary, caused palpitations in a hundred
masculine hearts, and made 500 of her sex envy her the possession of
such feet, figure and nerve. But these are not her sweetest triumphs.
The consciousness to her most grateful and satisfying is that the
courage and the independence of the modern young woman of America have
been exemplified and vindicated.
They must get their fortunes told. There were no gypsies in this Cairo
such as camp along the country roads or in the edges of the villages and
tell sighing swains about their loves. Here was a seer imported direct
from the banks of the Nile.
His father studied the stars and read lives from the palms of men's
hands. His grandfather did the same. He came from a race of wise men.
The first seers of his family sat in the shade of the early sphinxes and
told Egyptian maidens to beware of young men who came up from the Red
sea with false promises.
But his fortune-telling was of the same kind as one finds everywhere. A
young man paid the price and held out his hand. The wise man took hold
of the fingers, bent them back from the hand and pushed the cuff half
way back to the elbow. He traced the course of the veins, ran his
coal-black finger along each wrinkle of the palm, and all the time
muttered to himself. Sometimes he nodded his head and gurgled
approvingly. Again he hesitated and groaned feebly, as if the signs were
sad. The young man had a scared look in his eyes. Then the interpreter
began to tell what the aged seer had to say:
"He says that you had sickness. It was not long ago. You were afraid.
But it's all right. You won't be sick any more. Have health, good
health. Feel good all time. Don't be afraid."
"I'm glad to hear it," said the young man.
"Before you worked where you do now you had another kind of work. You
did something else. You will change. Not the same kind of work next
time. No, no. You will have good time. A man will give you work. It is
different from what you do now. He is short, fat, very rich man. Go with
him. You will do well, make money--lots of money. Fat man will make you
have better clothes."
"Well, what's the matter with these I've----," began the young man, but
the interpreter hushed him.
"He says you must stay in Chicago, good place. If you travel you will
not have as much money as you will have when you get with the fat man.
You must stay here if you want to be rich and have good clothes. Aha!
this is very good. Put your head near. He says you are very
warm-hearted, like all of the women. Yes, yes, that's it, you love one
in particular, your wife or some one. He wants to know who it is you
love."
"I am not married," said the young man.
"He says," resumed the interpreter, "that it's all right."
"All right, eh?"
"Yes, you will marry her, but not this year."
"How long do you think you will live?"
"Give it up."
"You will live to be 87. He says so."
That was all, and the puzzled young man arose to go away.
"How was it? How was it?" asked all the women who had been looking on
and marveling.
"I'll tell you," said the young man. "The past and present are both a
little cloudy, but the future is all that any one could ask."
Then he started away, keeping a sharp lookout for a fat man who seemed
to be rich.
At the end of the street is the Temple of Luxor, where the curious pass
under the deity-covered portal, and gaze upon the reproduced wonders of
ancient Egypt. They bend over withered mummies of kings dead 5,000 years
ago, and listen to music that has not been played for ages.
Near here is the passage way outside, and, as Fanny came out with her
ears ringing with the strange jargon that everywhere met her, she was at
once relaxed from the tension of sights and sounds she had just been in
by seeing two country people rush together just before her. One said:
"Well, what in the world are you doin' here?"
"I swan, is that you? What are you doin' here?"
"Oh-h-h, we had to see the Fair, couldn't miss it, you know, not if it
took a leg."
"That's right, that's right. Bring your folks?"
"Oh, yes, they're around here somewhere. Mother's about fagged. Says
she'd rather cook for harvest hands than walk all day. Going to stay
long?"
"Calculate on being here all next week if body and soul stick together.
'Spose you'll be here sometime."
"Can't tell yet. Just about give up seeing it all. Half the time don't
know whether I'm on my head or my heels. Blamedest place I ever struck."
"That's right, that's right."
It was enough to cause her to smile at their homely enthusiasm, and the
striking contrast of language. It was a relief to hear intelligible
language once more, and in the rural dialect so familiar to her ears.
The soft, balmy days of June were now in their glory, and Uncle and Aunt
sometimes spent nearly the whole day sitting around on Wooded Island
imagining they could hear their cattle lowing in the pasture across the
creek, and dreaming their lives over again from their early happy days.
It was so peaceful there. Then they loved to go over by the lake and
look upon it as a painted ocean, as calm and quiet as a pond of Raphael.
It was something to see the stretch of blue go on till it touched the
low-hung clouds at the edge of the world. Beyond the mists and the smoke
of the white steamers were dimly outlined streaks of yellow and light,
which turned the whole heavens into a softened sky of good promise. In
the foreground of the vista the giant figures of victory, with charging
horses and chariot, and all the Apollos and Neptunes, stood out like
silhouettes. There was no noise save the ripple of the water down the
cascade at Columbia's feet. Gentle winds lapped the waves along the
beach, the furious breakers of other days were toned into a delicate
murmur, which sounded very like some sweet symphony or the hymn of a
winged choir. Waves which had for weeks been tangled masses of white
caps and had thrashed with frantic anger the bases of the towering
pillars dropped to the dainty ripples of a summer breeze. There was no
crash, no roar, no splashing spray, driven on by a gale that snorted and
snapped. So delicately and silently did the waters kiss the shore that
sparrows and wrens and a flock of wandering doves walked to the very
edge and filled their crops with the pure white sand. Then this, the
best great work of any race of any age, comes over the spirits of
worshipful men like heavenly benedictions of good-will and peace.
Sometimes as they sat in some quiet place alone saying nothing but
thinking joy, the music of holy melodies came floating across the
waters of the basin and re-echoed from the heaving lake to the
Administration dome. They were sitting at the feet of that human genius
which God had hallowed for the sake of those who revere His holy name.
They were everywhere thrilled with the supremely gifted achievements of
their fellow men, inspired by the living canvass from every clime, and
amazed to know that the lumps of Parian stone could be made to speak the
heroism of the world.
_CHAPTER XVIII_