As I said some of the pictures and statutes clung to my memory as if they’d been throwed at my mind so powerful that they jest stuck there and couldn’t be dislodged even by all the later multitude of sights throwed over ’em.

There wuz one by Whistler full of the subtle mystery that he wrops round his figgers.  Why you know he has painted one that to them that are sympathetic, the Little Lady in Black, will walk right out of the picture and come towards ’em, time and agin she’s done it, I’m tellin’ the truth that can be proved.

In the “Mystery of the Night,” the female figger dimly discerned through the veil of mist seems the incarnation of the mystery of sky and sea, the infinite solemnity, and peace and loneliness of the night.

There wuz pictures that made you happy, and some that sort o’ sent a chill to your sperit, like Millais’ “Chill October,” as you looked at it you almost felt the chill, mournful breeze that you knew wuz sweepin’ along.

Some queer pictures like the “Ghost Dance” kinder lingered in the vestibule of your mind.  You know your mind has got more different rooms in it than any house that wuz ever built, and some pictures and folks don’t git into the very inmost rooms; they never git furder than the doorstep.

There are three pictures by the King and Queen of Portugal, all on ’em picturin’ humble life.  The King’s show a peasant drivin’ cattle to water.  I wondered if he didn’t wish, when he painted it, that he wuz that care-free herder, who could sing and whistle and wear easy shues, and throw on any old clothes, and santer out into the dewy mornin’ and do as he wanted to.

One of the Queen’s wuz a farm wagon, such as they carry farm produce in, but sometimes I spoze load up with merry girls and boys for a happy outing in the green woods.

I shouldn’t wonder if when she wuz dead tired of the cares, formalities and burdens of a queen, she wished she wuz one of them happy young girls riding off in a cotton frock on the old farm wagon into some joyous picnic.

The other one of hern wuz a cute little donkey and over all on ’em wuz bright sunlight and soft shadow.  They done well.  I wished I could encouraged ’em by tellin’ ’em so—­a word of praise sometimes duz so much good, to anybody from peasant to king.

Among the statutes that I see to the Fair that stood up straight in my mind wuz Light and Darkness.  Darkness wuz in the form of two men, one on ‘em crouched low with his arm over his face drawin’ his mantle to hide from the light.  The other male is liftin’ his head but his eyes are still shot, evidently he feels the dawn of sunthin’ better and he’s waking up, while standin’ erect is the graceful figger of a female, beautiful and noble, full of boundin’ life and light, holdin’ up high over her head a star.  She wants to wake up the hull world to the light.

Dakota wuz pictured as a lady with precious few clothes on; she looked old in her face, and I told Josiah it wuz a shame to see a woman that age with such a low-necked dress on.  It wuz cut down to the bottom of her waist.  And lots of the men staters wuz wearin’ low necks.  I didn’t like it, but Josiah remarked that he’d always said: