After her return from the trip across the lake with the bridal party,
the _Dolphin_ lay at anchor near the White City for a week or more;
there were so many interesting and beautiful exhibits at the Fair still
unseen by them that Captain Raymond, his family, and guests scarce knew
how to tear themselves away.
At the breakfast table on the morning after their arrival, they, as
usual, considered together the question where the day should be spent.
It was soon evident that they were not all of one mind, some preferring
a visit to one building, some to another.
"I should like nothing better than to spend some hours in the Art
Palace, examining paintings and statuary," said Violet, "and I have an
idea that mamma would enjoy doing the same," looking enquiringly at
her mother as she finished her sentence.
"In which you are quite right," responded Grandma Elsie. "There is
nothing I enjoy more than pictures and statuary such as may be found
there."
"And I am sure your father and I can echo that sentiment," remarked
Mrs. Dinsmore, with a smiling glance at her husband.
"Very true, my dear," he said.
"Then that is where we shall go," said the captain.
"That includes your four children, I suppose, papa?" remarked Lucilla,
half enquiringly, half in assertion.
"Unless one or more of them should prefer to remain at home--here on
the yacht," he replied. "How about that, Neddie, my boy?"
"Oh, papa, I don't want to stay here! Please let me go with you and
mamma," exclaimed the little fellow, with a look of mingled alarm and
entreaty.
"You certainly shall, if you want to, my son," returned his father.
"I am happy to say that my little boy has been very good and given no
unnecessary trouble in visiting the Fair thus far. And I can say the
same of my little Elsie and her older sisters also," he added, with an
affectionate look from one to another.
"Thank you, papa," said Lucilla and Grace, the latter adding, "I think
it would be strange indeed should we ever intentionally and willingly
give trouble to such a father as ours."
"I don't intend ever to do that," said little Elsie earnestly, and with
a loving upward look into her father's face.
"I am glad to hear it, dear child," he returned, with an appreciative
smile.
"I, too," said her mother. "Well, we will make quite a party, even if
all the rest choose to go elsewhere."
The Art Palace was a very beautiful building of brick and steel; its
style of architecture Ionic of the most classic and refined type. It
was very large: 320 feet wide by 500 feet in length, with an eastern
and western annex, a grand nave and transept 160 feet wide and 70 feet
high intersecting it, and that surmounted by a dome very high and wide,
and having upon its apex a winged figure of Victory.
From this dome the central section was flooded with light, and here was
a grand collection of sculpture and paintings, in which every civilized
nation was represented, the number of pieces shown being nearly
twenty-five thousand. It was the largest art exhibition ever made in
the history of the world.
It was not strange, therefore, that though our friends had been in the
building more than once before, they still found an abundance of fine
works of art which were well worth attentive study, and as entirely new
to them as though they had been but just placed there.
Little Elsie was particularly attracted, and her curiosity was excited
by an oil painting among the French exhibits of Joan of Arc listening
to the voices.
"Is there a story to it?" she asked of her grandma, who stood nearest
to her at the moment.
"Yes, dear; and if you want to hear it, I shall tell it to you when we
go back to the _Dolphin_," was the kindly rejoinder, and the child,
knowing that Grandma Elsie's promises were sure to be kept, said no
more at the moment, but waited patiently until the appointed time.
As usual, she and Neddie were ready for a rest sooner than the older
people, and were taken back to the yacht by their father, Grandma Elsie
and Grace accompanying them, saying that they, too, were weary enough
to enjoy sitting down with the little folks for an hour or so.
"Oh, I'm glad grandma's going too!" cried Ned, and Elsie added, with a
joyous look, "So am I, grandma, but I'm very sorry you are tired."
"Do not let that trouble you, dearest," returned Mrs. Travilla, with a
loving smile. "You know if I were not tired I should miss the enjoyment
of resting."
"And there is enjoyment in that," remarked the captain; "yet I regret,
mother, that your strength is not sufficient to enable you to see and
enjoy all the beautiful sights here, which we may never again have an
opportunity to behold."
"Well, captain, one cannot have everything in this world," returned
Grandma Elsie, with a contented little laugh, "and it is a real
enjoyment to me to sit on the deck of the _Dolphin_ with my dear little
grandchildren about me, and entertain them with such stories as will
both interest and instruct them."
"Oh, are you going to tell us the story of that picture I asked you
about, grandma?" queried little Elsie, with a look of delight.
"What picture was that?" asked her father, who had not heard what
passed between the lady and the child while gazing together upon
Maillart's painting.
Mrs. Travilla explained, adding, "I suppose you have no objection to my
redeeming my promise?"
"Oh, no! not at all; it is a historical story, and I do not see that it
can do them any harm to hear it, sadly as it ends."
They had reached the yacht while talking, and presently were on
board and comfortably seated underneath the awning on the deck. Then
the captain left them, and Grandma Elsie, noting the look of eager
expectancy on little Elsie's face, at once began the coveted tale.
"The story I am about to tell you," she said, "is of things done and
suffered more than four hundred years ago. At that time there was war
between the English and French. The King of England, not satisfied with
his own dominions, wanted France also and claimed it because his mother
was the daughter of a former French king; so he sent an army across the
Channel into France to force the French to take him for their king,
instead of their own monarch."
"Didn't the French people want to have the English king to be theirs
too, grandma?" asked Elsie.
"No, indeed! and so a long, long war followed, and a great many of both
the French and English were killed.
"At that time there was a young peasant girl named Joan, a modest,
industrious, pious girl, who loved her country and was distressed
over the dreadful war going on in it. She longed to help to drive the
English away; but it did not seem as if she--a girl of fifteen, who
could neither read nor write, though she could sew and spin and work
out in the fields and gardens--could do anything to help to rid her
dear land of the invaders. But she thought a great deal about it and at
length imagined that she heard heavenly voices calling to her to go and
fight for her king."
"And that was the picture that we saw to-day, grandma?" asked Elsie.
"But it wasn't really true?"
"No, dear; probably Joan of Arc, as she is called, really imagined she
heard them, and the painter has imagined how they might have looked."
"Then it isn't real," remarked the little girl, in a tone of
disappointment.
"No, not what the picture represents; but the story of what poor
Joan of Arc, or the Maid of Orleans, as she is often called, thought
and did is true. When she told her story of the voices speaking to
her no one believed it; they thought she was crazy. But she was not
discouraged. She went to her king, or rather the dauphin, for he had
not been crowned, and told her story to him and his council--that God
had revealed to her that the French troops would succeed in driving the
enemy away from the city of Orleans, which they were besieging at that
time.
"The dauphin listened, believed what she told him, and gave her leave
to dress herself in male attire and go with the troops, riding on a
white palfrey and bearing a sword and a white banner. The soldiers
believed in her, and in consequence were filled with such courage and
enthusiasm that they fought very bravely and soon succeeded in driving
the English away from Orleans.
"This success so delighted the French, and so raised their hope of
ridding France of her enemies, that they won victory after victory,
driving the English out of one province after another, and even out of
Paris itself, so that the English hated and dreaded poor Joan.
"She conducted the dauphin to Rheims, where he was crowned, and she
wept for joy as she saluted him as king. Then she wanted to go home,
thinking her work was done; but King Charles begged her to stay with
the army, and to please him she did. But she began to have fearful
forebodings because she no longer heard the voices. Yet she remained
with the French army and was present at a good many battles, till
at length she was taken prisoner by the Burgundians and sold to the
English for a large sum by the Burgundian officer."
"Oh, grandma! and did the English hurt her for fighting for her own
dear country?"
"I cannot say certainly," replied Mrs. Travilla; "accounts differ, some
saying that she was put to death as a heretic and sorceress; others
that some five or six years later she arrived at Metz, was at once
recognized by her two brothers, and afterward married."
"Oh, I hope that is the true end of the story!" exclaimed Elsie. "It
would be so dreadful to have her put to death for helping to save her
dear country."
"So it would," said Grace; "but in those early times such dreadful,
dreadful deeds used to be done. I often feel thankful that I did not
live in those days."
"Yes," said Mrs. Travilla, "we may well be full of gratitude and love
to God our Heavenly Father that our lot has been cast in these better
times and in our dear land."
"And that we have our dear, kind grandma to love," said Neddie,
nestling closer to her, "and our papa and mamma. Some little children
haven't any."
"No, I had no mother when I was your age, Ned," sighed Grandma Elsie,
"and I cannot tell you how much I used to long for her when Aunt Chloe
would tell me how sweet and lovely she had been, and how sorry she was
to leave her baby."
"Her baby? was that you, grandma?" he asked, with a wondering look up
into her face.
"Yes," she replied, with a smile, and stroking his hair caressingly.
"But you had a papa? grandpa is your papa, isn't he? I hear you call
him that sometimes."
"Yes, he is; my dear father and your mamma's grandfather, which makes
him yours too."
"Mine, too," said little Elsie, in a tone of satisfaction.
"Oh, see! here comes the boat with Evelyn and Uncle Walter in it!"
"You are early to-night as well as ourselves," remarked Grace, as they
stepped upon the deck and drew near the little group already gathered
there.
"Yes," returned Evelyn, "I was tired, and Walter kindly brought me
home. The yacht seems like a home to me nowadays," she added, with a
light laugh.
"Yes," said Grace; "I am sure papa likes to have us all feel that it is
a home to us at present."
"And a very good and comfortable one it is," remarked Walter, handing
Evelyn to a seat, then taking one himself opposite her and near his
mother's side.
"Where have you two been? and what have you seen that is worth telling
about?" asked Grace.
"Visiting buildings," returned Walter; "Brazil, Turkey, Hayti, Sweden,
and lastly Venezuela."
"And what did you see there?"
"In Venezuela's exhibit? Christopher Columbus and General Bolivar--that
is, their effigies--specimens of birds, animals, minerals, preserves,
spices, coffee, vegetables, fine needlework, some manufactured goods,
and--most interesting of all, we thought--the flag carried by Pizarro
in his conquest of Peru."
"Pizarro? who was he? and what did he do, Uncle Wal?" asked little
Elsie.
"He was a very, very bad man and did some very, very wicked deeds,"
replied Walter.
"Did he kill people?"
"Yes, that he did; and got killed himself at last. The Bible says,
'Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed,' and there
have been a great many examples of it in the history of the world."
"Does God say that, Uncle Walter?" asked Neddie.
"Yes; God said it to Noah, shortly after he and his family came out of
the ark."
"When the flood was over?"
"Yes."
"Please tell us about that flag and the bad man that carried it," urged
little Elsie, and Walter complied.
"Pizarro was a Spaniard," he began, "a very courageous, but covetous
and cruel man; very ignorant, too; he could neither read nor write.
He was a swineherd in his youth, but gave up that occupation and came
over to America to seek a fortune in this new world. He crossed the
Isthmus of Panama with Balboa and discovered the Pacific Ocean. While
there he heard rumors of a country farther south, where gold and silver
were said to be as abundant as iron in Spain, and he was seized with a
great desire to go there and help himself to as much as possible. So
he and another fellow named Almagro, and Luque, a priest, put their
money together and fitted out a small expedition, of which Pizarro took
command.
"They did not go very far that time, but afterward tried it again,
first making an agreement that all they got of lands, treasures, and
other things, vassals included, should be divided equally between them.
"They set sail in two ships. They really reached Peru, and when Pizarro
went back to Panama he carried with him many beautiful and valuable
ornaments of gold and silver which the kind-hearted natives had
given him, also specimens of cloth made of wool and having a silky
appearance and brilliant color, and some llamas, or alpacas."
"They had certainly treated him very kindly," remarked Grace, as Walter
paused for a moment in his narrative.
"Yes; and what a mean wretch he must have been to want to rob them of
everything--even to life, liberty, and happiness. He was determined to
do that as soon as possible; so determined that, not being able to find
enough volunteers in Panama, he went all the way back to Spain (a far
greater undertaking then than it would be now), told the story of his
discoveries before the king, Charles V., and his ministers; describing
the wealth of the countries and showing the goods and ornaments he had
brought from them.
"Then they gave him--what was not theirs to give--permission to conquer
Peru, and the titles of governor and captain-general of that country.
He on his part agreed to raise a certain number of troops, and to send
to the King of Spain one-fifth of all the treasures he should obtain.
He then returned to Panama and soon set sail for Peru again."
"With a great many soldiers, Uncle Wal?" queried little Ned.
"No; with what in these days would be considered a very small army;
only 180 soldiers, of whom 27 were cavalry."
"Cavalry?" repeated Ned, in a tone of enquiry.
"Yes, soldiers on horseback. The Peruvians, having never before seen
a horse, took each mounted man and the steed he rode to be but one
animal, and were much afraid of them. The firearms, too, inspired great
terror, as they knew nothing of gunpowder and its uses.
"At that time there was war among the natives of Peru and Quito. Huano
Capac, the former Inca of Peru, had died some years previous, leaving
Peru to his son Huascar, and Quito, which he had conquered shortly
before, to another son--half-brother to Huascar. The two had quarrelled
and had been fighting each other for about two years, and just before
the arrival of the Spaniards Atahualpa had defeated his brother
Huascar, taken him prisoner, and confined him in a strong fortress."
"Perhaps," remarked Evelyn, "if they had not been so busy fighting each
other they might have discovered the approach of Pizarro, their common
enemy, in season to prevent the mischief he was prepared to do them."
"Very possibly," returned Walter. "As it was, the Spaniards drew near
Atahualpa's victorious camp, where they found fifty thousand men
assembled. Pizarro had at the most only two hundred; a mere handful in
comparison with the numbers of the Peruvians, but by a most daring and
diabolical stratagem he got possession of the unsuspecting Inca.
"Atahualpa came to visit him in a friendly spirit. A priest began
explaining to him the Christian, or rather the papal religion; told him
that the Pope had power over all the kingdoms of the earth and that he
had presented Peru to the King of Spain; also that they had come to
take possession in the name of that king.
"Naturally that made Atahualpa very angry; so angry that he indignantly
interrupted the priest, saying that the Pope--whoever he was--must be
a crazy fool to talk of giving away countries which did not belong to
him. Then he asked on what authority such claims were made.
"The priest pointed to a Bible. Atahualpa dashed it angrily to the
ground, and the fields began to fill with Indians. Then Pizarro waved
a white scarf--the signal he had agreed upon with his men--and his
artillery poured sudden death into the terrified masses of Indians,
while the Spanish cavalry rode them down in a furious, merciless way.
The ranks of the poor, unarmed Peruvians were thrown into confusion;
their foes were butchering them without mercy; they could do little to
save themselves; they used every effort to defend and save the sacred
Inca, but in vain; and after hours of that fiendish murdering of the
poor, defenceless creatures, the Spaniards got full possession of him.
"At first they pretended to be very kind to him, especially when he
offered, as his ransom, to fill the room in which he stood with gold as
high as he could reach.
"Huascar, in his prison, heard of this and offered a still larger
ransom for himself, and to prevent it Atahualpa had him secretly
murdered.
"Soon after that the gold for Atahualpa's ransom began to pour in, and
when there was as much as he had promised he demanded his freedom. But
Pizarro refused to let him go--though he took the gold--accusing him
of plotting against him; and after much base treachery the Spaniards
held a mock trial and condemned Atahualpa to be burned. But when they
led him out to the stake he consented to be baptized, and for that they
were so very merciful as to strangle before burning him."
"Oh, Uncle Walter, what cruel, cruel men!" exclaimed little Elsie.
"They were, indeed," sighed her grandma. "The Bible tells us 'the
tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.' Pizarro and his band were
very, very wicked men. They had no more right to the country of the
Peruvians than the Peruvians would have had to theirs, had they crossed
the ocean to Spain and seized upon it for their own. 'All they that
take the sword shall perish with the sword,' our Saviour said, and how
true it proved in the case of these men of whom we have been talking!
Atahualpa caused his brother Huascar to be killed; Pizarro, Almagro,
and the others killed Atahualpa; Pizarro afterward killed Almagro; and
later on Pizarro was himself slain by Almagro's son Diego."