THE BOOK OF THE FAIR: Chapter the Twenty-Fourth:
The Midway Plaisance
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--- If to any class of visitors the Columbian Exposition was somewhat of a disappointment, it was to those who went there merely in search of amusement. Instruction rather than amusement, but instruction conveyed in its most attractive form, was the main purpose of the Fair, and surely there were never such opportunities for a comparative study of what has and is being accomplished in every branch of industry and art. But study of what has and is being accomplished in every branch of industry and art. But men would not always be thus instructed; would prefer rather to take such education in homoeopathic doses, with a strong admixture of recreation, of fresh air and sunshine, of saunterings among flower-beds and waterways, and above all with plenty of good things to eat and to drink. Hence it was that in favorable weather at least half of the visitors would be found outside the buildings, on the wooded island, on the lagoons, the boulevards, or seated in shady or sheltered spots listening to the music of the bands.
But as places of recreation there were none that would compare with the Midway plaisance, an epitome and also a supplement of the Fair, with its bazaars of all nations, its manifold attractions, and yet with educational as well as pleasurable features. All day long and far into the night this spacious thoroughfare, a mile in length and 600 feet in width, was crowded with sight-seers who, whatever else they missed, would make the tour of this novel and heterogeneous exhibition. Entering the avenue a little to the west of the Woman's building, they would pass between the walls of mediaeval villages, between mosques and pagodas, Turkish and Chinese theatres, past the dwellings of colonial days, past the cabins of South Sea islanders, of Javanese, Egyptians, Bedouins, Indians, among them huts of bark and straw that tell of yet ruder environment. They would be met on their way by German and Hungarian bands, by the discord of Chinese cymbals and Dahomean tom-toms; they would encounter jugglers and magicians, camel-drivers and donkey-boys, dancing-girls from Cairo and Algiers, from Samoa and Brazil, with men and women of all nationalities, some lounging in oriental indifference, some shrieking in unison or striving to outshriek each other, in the hope of transferring his superfluous change from the pocket of the unwary pilgrim. Then, as taste and length of purse determined; for fees were demanded from those who would penetrate the hidden mysteries of the plaisance, they might enter the Congress of beauty with its plump and piquant damsels, might pass an hour in one of the theatres or villages, or partake of harmless beverages served by native waiters. Finally they would betake themselves to the Ferris  wheel, on which they were conveyed with smooth, gliding motion to a height of 260 feet, affording a transient and kaleidoscopic view of the park and all that it contains.
In this miniature fair with its stir and tumult, its faces of every type and hue, its picturesque buildings, figures, and costumes is the most graphic and varied ethnological display that was ever presented to the world. All the continents are here represented, and many nations of each continent, civilized, semi-civilized, and barbarous, from the Caucasian to the African black, with head in the shape of a cocoa-nut and with barely enough of clothing to serve for the wadding of a gun. Here, in truth, one may learn more of foreign lands, their customs, habits, and environment, their food and drink and dress, their diversions and their industries, than years of travel would teach him. If here and there is a certain admixture of indecency, so broad at times as to call for the interference of the authorities, this does not detract from the value of an exhibition richer and more comprehensive than any before attempted.
Entering the plaisance is first observed, on either side of the avenue, a nursery of fruit trees such as are raised on French and California soil, with miniature groves of evergreens from the northwest, and other duplicates of the outdoor exhibit in the Horticultural department. Then comes a line of low thatched cottages whose appearance indicates the abodes of cleanliness and thrift. Here is a display of Irish industries, within what is known as Lady Aberdeen's village, largely organized by one who has devoted many years of her life to the good work thus represented. In this she first became interested during her husband's  term of office as lord lieutenant, and as president of the Irish Industries association, assisted by the late Peter White, its secretary, and with his wife as manager of the enterprise, gave to the Columbian Exposition one of its most attractive features.
The main entrance reproduces in facsimile the doorway of a chapel built on the rock of Cashel in the opening years of the twelfth century by Cormac, "the bishop king of Munster." Passing through this arched portal, its panels enriched with mouldings and heads in low relief, the visitor enters the cloisters of Muckross abbey, the original of which, a picturesque but melancholy ruin, stands hoar and solemn amid the most beautiful scenery of the lakes and mountains of Killarney. But here are no priests at prayer or study; no sound nor sign of devotion or of penance; for like everything else about the villages, these cloistered retreats are essentially practical. Opening the door of one of the apartments, we find here around a turf fire above which a potato pot is boiling, a number of men carving trinkets, furniture, and articles of church decoration. Thence we may pass to other rooms or cottages where various industries are in progress. In one young women are busied over lace and crochet work, as made in the cottage homes of Limerick and Carrickmacross; in another there is knitting and the making of a material for homespuns; in a third, embroidery; in a fourth the carving of bog-oak, of which there are many beautiful specimens. Elsewhere dairymaids, rosy and buxom, are showing what their deft fingers can accomplish with the aid of modern utensils and the milk of Kerry kine.
Adjacent to the cloister of Muckross is the cottage of Lady Aberdeen, named "Lyra-ne-Grena," that is to say, the sunny nook, and over its door the inscription in Keltic, "Cead Mile Failte." Its quaint, old-fashioned windows are shaded by the low, overhanging roof, with a frieze of shamrock in the interior, whose walls are frescoed and tinted in green. Much of the antique furniture of Irish oak or mahogany consists of historical relics. There is an old spinning wheel to the use of which her ladyship is no stranger, and in one of the corners is a writing desk that formerly belonged to Thomas Hood. Carpets and curtains represent Irish industries, and there are prints upon the walls of popular subjects, with portraits of famous men, as O'Connell, Swift, and Pope.
 - Passing thence across an open court we come to Blarney castle, built in the fifteenth century by one Cormack MacCarthy, a brave man and a strong, on a site where Druids held their mystic rites long before Saint Patrick and his white-robed disciples set foot in the land of Erin. Its counterpart at Jackson park is a three-story building, set apart for the village workers; but for visitors there is a winding staircase, from the top of which one may creep to the battlements at risk of life and limb and there kiss the magic stone and obtain a view of Ireland in the form of a large relief map. But it is a prosaic structure, with little of the romance contained in the original, and especially is missing the creeping ivy on the walls.
In a building known as the "Sheppa" there are more Irish industries. Then there is the music hall, with pipers and jig dancers, where also a young female harpist from the Dublin academy of music plays sweet accompaniments for singers of national airs. There is also Tara's hall, in which are many relics, with duplicates of the ancient metal work fashioned by a Dublin jeweller and briefly described in the chapter on "Foreign Manufactures." In this connection may be mentioned the harp of Brian Boroihme, bequeathed to the pope, and by the pope to Henry VIII, this precious heirloom passing, after further changes of ownership, into the museum of Trinity college, Dublin, where now is the home of the original. Finally there is the village museum, where are many objects of interest, with photographs of Irish antiquities, the latter a contribution from Lord Dunraven.
At the opposite side of the plaisance, on a site originally allotted to a Bohemian glass company, is a building which bears upon its front the inscription, "International Dress and Costume Company." Around its entrance is usually gathered a larger crowd than before the more pretentious structures that line this cosmopolitan thoroughfare; for within are five and forty damsels fair to look upon, selected from forty-five countries to represent as many national types in typical costumes, fashioned, it is said, by the great man milliner of Paris. To a Chicago journalist belongs the credit, if credit be due, for this novel and daring exhibition. With the aid of certain business men, by personal interviews, by liberal advertising and expenditure, and above  all by dint of phenomenal self-assurance, he collected and attired these representative beauties of Italy and Greece; of Germany, France, and Austria; of England, Scotland, and Ireland; of Cuba, Mexico, and all the Americas. This was commonly known as "the Congress of beauty," but also by a score of other titles, by any title in fact, rather than the one which appears above the doorway. As to the quality of the display, whether of face, figure, or costume, there was much difference of opinion, and as those of my readers who cared to see it have doubtless judged for themselves, it is unnecessary here to make further mention of the subject, except perhaps to say that better looking women, and better attired, can be seen any day in the cities and towns of the United States.
To foreigners the Adams Express company, which stands well back from the plaisance as it passes under the viaduct of the Illinois central railroad, is an object of passing interest. Although less an exhibit than a portion of the business machinery of the Fair, many visitors pause for a moment to observe the methodical workings of one of the most prominent organizations of its kind. Across the avenue is a plain, two-story house of red brick with narrow front and neat interior, representing a type of residence occupied by thousands of Philadelphia workingmen. Diagonally opposite, and under the viaduct of the railway, is a small frame building on which is the sign: "Old-Tyme Farmer's Dinner." Here pork and beans, doughnuts, pies, and other viands are served by Vassar and Wellesley girls, attired in costumes of the olden days, on little square tables with horn-handled knives, two-pronged forks of steel, and the quaintest of antique dishes. The idea of furnishings such meals originated with Mrs. Brinton, better known as "Mother Southwick," the name which she bore at the Centennial Exposition, where she presided over a similar place of entertainment. Near by she has reproduced another of its features in the model of a revolutionary log cabin, with its two rooms and loft, the parlor extending across the building, and with yawning fireplace, crane, and kettles, and all the other furnishing of a century ago. Opposite the door ir ranged upon a sideboard the family plate; and here are ancient hymn-books, candlesticks, and spinning wheels, and oldest of all, the cradle of Peregrine White, the so-called "babe of the Mayflower."
In an unpretentious structure known as the Scenic theatre are presented through the medium of electricity effects of dawn and sunrise, midday, twilight, moonrise, the night sky gemmed with stars, thunder-storms and fair weather, as seen in the Tyrolean Alps, accompanied by such instrumental music and weird yodoling as the traveler hears in these favorite resorts. A small building across the way is almost filled with a tank, in which exhibitions are given in submarine diving, for the purpose, as is announced, of showing how lost articles are recovered at sea. In the vicinity is a model which illustrates the working of a Colorado gold mine, the mechanism, which is operated by electricity, including bucket, pump, hoisting cage, and cars, such as are used in the Saratogo mine in Gilpin county. The mountain is shown as though cut in two, with the mine on the foot wall of the vein, thus exposing its underground workings. On the highest level men are  seen at work, with cars running to the ore chutes, where they are filled and then returned to the shaft, and hoisted to the surface. Here also are the shaft houses, blacksmith shop, powder magazine, boarding-house, ropeway, stamp-mill, water flumes, dump, ore bins, piles of wood for timbering, and all other necessary appliances.
It was intended, as I have said, to hold near the park entrance to the plaisance an exposition of Bohemian glass manufacture; but the plan was abandoned and the exhibits placed in the Austrian section of the Manufactures building, though without any demonstration of the processes whereby they came into existence. Such industries are by no means neglected, however, among the shows of the plaisance, as appears in two large structures west of Mother Southwick's cabin, facing each other on either side of the avenue. In style of architecture they are essentially different, the one on the south resembling an Italian cathedral, rich in coloring of gold and green, the winged lion which surmounts it recalling a similar figure in the square of St. Mark's at Venice. On the small island of Murano, near that city, is the factory of the company which erected this palace of glass and mosaic work, an enterprise established more than a quarter of a century ago, not only as a business venture but to revive the ancient industry of ornamental glass work in which Venice was at one time preeminent. Among the best of the enamelled mosaics are two scenes in the life of Columbus, which at the close of the Exposition were to be transferred to the Columbian museum in Chicago. Some of the most artistic specimens from the Murano factory, gems which are scattered among the museums and churches of Europe, are also shown as reproductions, and there are ancient toilet bottles, cups and goblets, oriental enamelled glasses, renaissance filigree and laces fashioned in glass, with etched and frosted glass in colors of sapphire, agate, topaz, jasper, onyx, and amethyst. In a word there is here an exhibition of art in its application to glass and mosaic work.
Opposite is a more substantial structure, with corner towers and domed central roof, glass in prismatic forms being grouped along the gravelled walks which approach it, and in a case near by specimens of glass spinning of wondrous delicacy. Here is the exhibit of the Libbey Glass company, showing not only its products but a complete working establishment, with modern machinery and apparatus for manufacture. The main vestibule leads into a semi-circular glass-house, or blowing room, with melting furnace in the centre, in the form of a truncated cone. Just within its circumference and a little above the base are the melting pots, enclosed in a metallic canopy, the heat which enters from below being generated from crude petroleum pumped through pipes from Ohio wells. After being subjected to a heat of more than 2,000 degrees of Fahrenheit, the crude materials are in the form of a molten mass, ready for  the blow-pipe of the "gatherer," who reaching into one of the pots, takes up a little of the substance upon the end of his hollow rod and passes it to the blower. The latter rolls it briskly upon an iron slab and then, as required, expands it by blowing through the pipe in a downward position, or contracts it by directing the pipe upward. When the material has reached the proper consistency, it is turned with a solid iron rod, and by means of wooden tools shaped into plaques, plates, and other forms. After leaving the blowing room, all glassware is subjected to a graduated or annealing heat, so tempering it as to resist changes in temperature.
Above the blowing room and the tempering oven are quarters for the cutters with their steel wheels, the smoothers with their wheels of sandstone, and the polishers with wheels of wood, abrading substances being used of various degrees of hardness. A more interesting process than any, though of less practical value, is the manufacture of what is termed glass cloth; but this is too complex here to be described in detail. Other departments belong to the engravers and etchers, and those who decorate the various articles in appropriate colors. Finally there is the crystal art room wherein are displayed the finished products of the factory. Ebony wood work forms an effective setting for the cut-glassware at the sides of the room, the upholsterings and tapestries of spun glass in the centre, and the ceiling decorations made of the same material. At the entrance is a so-called Henry Clay punch-bowl of 1812 in pressed glass, which though of excellent workmanship, is in marked contrast with the cut-glass bowl at its side, recently manufactured by the company. Attention is also attracted to ice-cream sets encased in brass-bound morocco, to sherbet and punch jugs of Roman design, to quaint decanters of Venetian shapes, graceful celery trays, ice-tubs, honey dishes, and a lamp of elaborate pattern designed for a banquet hall. Among articles in spun glass there are curtains, portieres, and decorations for ceilings and walls, with lamp shades and other fancy articles beautifully painted, all of them intended to show the adaptability of spun glass to artistic purposes.
Opposite the Libbey works is the zoological arena of Carl Hagenbeck, who claims to have domesticated and trained more wild animals than any living man. The programme is both amusing and  varied, for his menagerie includes elephants, lions, tigers, leopards, bears, dogs, pigs, goats, sheep, horses, ponies, zebras, and boars, with monkeys galore and many cases of storks and parrots, thus affording the possibilities of infinite combinations and forms of entertainment. Prince, the equestrian lion, rides on horseback and springs over banners with the grace and agility of a circus girl. Another lion rides in a chariot, drawn by a couple of Bengal tigers, while a brother tiger balances himself on a revolving globe. Polar bears walk the tight rope, and black bears roll down a toboggan slide. White goats frisk around the ring in company with spotted panthers, and a tiny poodle holds the hoop for a great black panther whose breath might blow him away. The most incongruous elements of the brute creation are thrown together in this amphitheatre, violating all preconceived notions of the forest and jungle by associating as neighbors and friends. So tame are the beasts that at times the chief keeper takes his lions or other performing animals for an airing around the plaisance, despite the protests of Columbian guards and special police.
Passing from the arena, the pilgrim of the plaisance observes at the opposite side of the avenue an ancient looking gateway flanked by towers, and beyond and above, a picturesque group of castellated structures. This is the Donegal Castle Irish village and contains the exhibits of the Donegal industrial fund, founded by Mrs. Ernest Hart, who commenced her labors more than a decade ago, establishing schools for instruction in various industries here illustrated as in Lady Aberdeen's village. In the good work thus accomplished she received the hearty cooperation and sympathy of other women, whose sole aim was to educate the Irish peasantry in home industries, and to furnish a market for their products without making them objects of charity. Substantial aid was also rendered by the Prince of Wales, by Gladstone, Cardinal Manning, and other influential men in church and state; so that presently factories were built and operations conducted on a larger scale.
But it was mainly through the efforts of Mrs. Hart that these results were accomplished, as exemplified at the Fair. Beginning on a small scale, with 50 pounds of wool weighed out on her kitchen scales, and with 100 lbs worth of goods stored in the bathroom of her London home, she gradually taught, through handbooks translated into Gaelic and a staff of instructors trained by herself in arts which she had first to learn, the processes of spinning, weaving, drafting, lace-making, wood-carving, embroidering, and dyeing, the peasantry attaining a standard of excellence which won for them more prizes at the Paris Exposition of 1889 than were awarded to any class of British exhibitor. To this task she devoted ten anxious and laborious years, overcoming difficulties which to women of common mould it would seem impossible to surmount. The people for whom she labored lived in a region separated by 40 miles of bog from the nearest railroad station, its one narrow harbor inaccessible except at times to steamers of the lightest draft. On its barren and rocky soil no horse plough could be used, and even if surplus products were raised there was no outlet to market; for with almost impassable roads during the greater part of the year, the freight to London on a ton of goods was five times as much as from London to New York. And yet in this region there were 100,000 inhabitants, of whom a large proportion, though honest, industrious, and always willing to learn, were in a state of chronic destitution and not infrequently of actual starvation. Such was the district which the patroness of the Donegal village raised from its abject condition to one of relative prosperity, while asking for  its manufactures no more than their market value. Said the lord mayor of Dublin, while speaking on the village green on Irish day: "We ask not for compassion nor for your pity, but would simply place before you articles recommended by their cheapness, their artistic beauty, and their excellent workmanship."
In the Donegal village are so many features of interest in its artistic presentment, its industrial aspect and its record as a national enterprise, that it is difficult to condense into reasonable space a description of its character and contents. The architectural designs were for the most part the result of much thought and painstaking; but the drafting of them was the inspiration of a night, the credit for the final elaboration of the plans being largely due to Geoffrey Hamlin of New York. The facade as seen from the entrance at the plaisance reproduces the St. Lawrence gate, of which the original has stood for six centuries or more in the little town of Drogheda. Passing the portcullis of the keep a view of the village is obtained from its archway, presenting a scene that is quaint and picturesque, and essentially Irish. Around the green are grouped the white-washed cottages in which are conducted the industries fostered by Mrs. Hart and taught in her technical schools. In one of the cottages wool is being spun into a fine firm thread by an Irish lass as in her home at Gweedore, and this a weaver warps on his frame and weaves on an antiquated loom into the soft homespuns which have won medals and highest awards at six international exhibitions, receiving high honors from the judges of the World's Fair. Elsewhere lace-making is in progress on a tambour frame by one of the oldest workers for the fund, whose filmy fabrics were carried away with delight by the infanta Eulalia, and have formed part of the trousseaus of royal princesses. Here also one of the pupils of the technical lace school is at work on Torchon laces of colored flax, in tints and materials patented for the benefit of workers, and registered under the name of "the Kells laces," now largely used for the decoration of furniture and table linen.
In the weaving cottage Kells linens are being woven on a hand loom, these linens, skillfully dyed by processes invented by the foundress, forming a specialty of the fund. They are largely used as a basis for embroidery and for wall hangings and window curtains by the art schools of Great Britain, and by firms whose business is in the line of art. They also form the basis of the famous Kells embroideries, invented in 1884 as a new Irish industry, and for which was received a gold medal at the International Inventions Exhibition in London in 1885, with high awards at Paris, Melbourne, and other international expositions. In these embroideries flax is used for the material, and the polished threads are worked on dyed and hand-made linens and woollens from designs adapted from the Century Book of Kells and from old Keltic manuscripts. In other cottages wood carving is done by young men taken from the plough and educated in London, these being the first Irish lads ever trained for the purpose, many of them returning to their native villages and engaging in business for themselves.
In the banqueting hall of the old castle of the O'Donnells, as here reproduced from drawings loaned by its present proprietor, are portieres such as adorn the walls of Windsor and Hawarden castles, their designs selected by the queen and by the wife of William Ewart Gladstone. Here also are Irish point laces in simple  and elaborate designs, with hand embroidered court dresses, vestments, altar cloths, table linens, and counterpanes, the last of these articles resembling those which were made in France in the middle ages. There are handkerchiefs ranging in price from a few cents to $150, and there are homespun garments worn alike by Galway market women and princesses of the blood, all these and other specimens transferred from the village factory at Gueedore to the Donegal village at the plaisance.
Passing into the concert room, adorned with the works of Irish artists and the portraits of those whom Irishmen love to honor, we listen for a while to native melodies, chanted with harp accompaniment by the sweet songsters of Erin. Then stepping forth on the village green, we find ourselves in front of the ruined keep of Donegal castle, once the stronghold of the O'Donnells, the princes of Tyrconnel. In the garden behind rises to a height of 100 feet the round tower, a replica of one of these curious structures built more than a thousand years ago, presumably as places of refuge for the monks and their sacred vessels when Ireland was overrun by the Danes. In this garden is also a reproduction in miniature of the Giant's causeway, and in full size of "the wishing chair."
Under the shadow of Donegal castle is the Japanese bazaar, filled with bronze and lacquer work, with fans and screens, vases and silks, figures of mythological characters, and articles of bric-a-brac such as are exposed for sale in every city of the United States, most of them, be it observed, mere counterfeits of Japanese art and workmanship. While in the bazaar itself there are no fictitious exhibits, there are few that cannot be seen to better advantage in the Manufactures and other departments of the Fair. Hence it is unnecessary here to describe them in detail.
The Javanese village beyond, known also as the Dutch settlement and the South Sea Islanders' village, is among the most interesting features of the plaisance. It is one whose whereabouts will not be readily mistaken; for in front is a miniature windmill, such as are used in Java to scare away the myriads of birds that infest the rice fields, emitting a volume of harsh, discordant sound altogether out of proportion to their size. The entrance is in the form of a bamboo archway, above which is a wreath and sword combined, the sign-manual of the old East India company. The entire village is enclosed by a ten-foot fence of bamboo, and consists of some 46 buildings, set on blocks of wood a few feet from the ground, including a temple, two shops where different processes of manufacture are exhibited, and in the central plaza, a tea house in which natives serve pure Java tea, coffee, and cocoa, and a theatre whose main attraction is its dark-eyed, willowy dancing girls.
From the huts occupied by Javanese workmen to the cottage of the prince yelept Raden Adnen Soekmadilaga, the structures are of bamboo, roofed merely with rushes and bound together with fibres, but  perfectly water-tight and almost as strong as they are flexible. Each of the huts has a portico in front, where women make silk and gold embroideries and filigree work, weave mats and baskets, and dye and stamp their cotton goods, while men are fashioning weapons, brass ornaments, lacquer work, cigarettes, and appliances for Javanese games. The interiors are cheerful and clean, decorated with brightly colored cloths and divided usually by curtains. The cooking is performed in a building separated from the general living apartments, and after each meal there is music rendered on native instruments. In the residence of the prince are richer cloths and embroideries than are seen in most of the others, with split bamboo matting, scorched to a soft brown, covering the floor. Except for this and the headquarters of the officials, nearly all the buildings contain within them a workshop, where the keepers sit on the bamboo floor with their goods scattered around them. These include not only the various manufactured articles, but small packages of tea, coffee, spices, tin ore, gum, sandal-wood, mahogany, ebony, and other products of the Malayan archipelago. Curious articles made of bamboo and palm, scented roots, rattan, cinchona, preserved fruits and insects, with models of bridges, carriages, and household and agricultural implements, and photographs of picturesque scenery, give some idea of the resources of the Dutch possessions and the capabilities of the natives.
There is a small, square temple of worship or mosque, with the priest sitting in a box on the altar, the roof surmounted by a minaret, whence he calls the devout to prayer. Opposite is the theatre, the only building to which an admission fee is charged. It is merely a large thatched cottage, the walls inside and out being covered with painted squares of bamboo matting. The stage, elevated a few feet from the hall, extends across it and is about ten feet deep, with a series of platforms behind it, each a yard higher than the other, these for members of the orchestra, whose pieces consist of a violin-shaped instrument with two strings, a small bamboo flute, and brass and copper gongs ranging in size from a saucer to a wash tub. Each gong has a knob in the centre which is struck with a stick, wound at the end with palm fibre; but the music is simple and sweet, differing entirely from the ear-piercing discord of a Chinese orchestra. Especially is it adapted to the slow, gliding movements of the dancing girls, who in their way are as piquant and certainly more modest than their western sisters of the stage. With bare arms, shoulders, and feet, but with no unseemly exposure of person, their slender, lithe, and delicately rounded forms are decked in embroidered silks and velvets, and with bracelets and necklaces of gold. The dances constitute a series of graceful poses, the movements almost confined to the portion of the body above the waist, and all having a certain dramatic or symbolic significance. Although the dancing girls of Java are petted and indulged in a way that would turn the heads of most of their sex, they conduct themselves as befits maidens who are educated by the priesthood, belong to a religious order, and are of such birth and character as to be sought in marriage by nobles and princes.
Of the eight dancing girls at the theatre four were sent by the sultan of Solo, a vassal monarch tributary to the home government and reigning over the central part of the island, while the other four, with the male dancers, actors, wrestlers, fencers, and kite-flyers, come from the Preanger regencies, a western province of Java. All are in charge of Prince Adnen, who, having made three pilgrimages to Mecca, ranks as a high priest. He is assisted by Carlo Ferrari, foreman of the village, a man who has resided in the Dutch  East Indies for more than a quarter of a century, and is there esteemed as a hunter of renown. Among the employees are several from the court theatre, and the production here of a comedy which has held the boards of Javanese temples of the drama since time immemorial should be an event in the dramatic annals of the west. One man describes the humorous incidents, and the other actors and actresses delineate them in pantomime, the dancing girls appearing between the acts, as to the wiry fair featured athletes. The last are of a superior breed to the majority of the village population, forming in fact a race in themselves, like the professional athletes of Japan. From babyhood they have been fed, clothed and trained with a view to their future career, and never marry outside their caste.
Before leaving the village, a call should be made at the cottages of the directors, where are costly and elegant fabrics, rare works of native art, and not a few curiosities. Here are the krisses or daggers, curved and straight, with blades of absorbent steel, engraved with dragons and set with costly jewels, handles of precious wood and sheaths of solid gold. These are the property of G. J. L. de Bruyn, who as manager of the village and one of the directors, occupies a residence adjacent to the theatre. A number of rhinoceros' feet are also on exposition, a portion of them fashioned into a lady's toilet case. In a cage just within the entrance is an orangatang, all conscious of the nor conferred on him, and near by are men armed with long poles, to the ends of which sharp thorns are fastened, pointing backward. These, however, are not to guard the animal, but to represent the native police, and should some unruly inmate get beyond the control of the high priest or the Columbian guard, he would find himself caught in their clutch, though no such occasion was apt to arise within the peaceful confines of the Javanese hamlet.
The Samoan village or South Sea settlement across the avenue is also essentially native, the entrance being in the form of a large war canoe, constructed of dark redwood bound with fibres, and as figurehead, the rude carving of a sea god. Sails made of matting, long oars, a wooden trough or gong, bows, arrows, axes, and other implements of warfare are displayed, while the boat itself is gashed and seamed from hard service on the Pacific. In front of the entrance is the house which formerly belonged to Mataafa, the prince who rebelled against the German rule and was deposed. It is shaped like a beehive, with apex some thirty feet above ground, and is constructed of the wood of the bread-fruit tree, which in Samoa is proof against ants. In this hut and in one erected in the centre of the village, are the principal curious, which include speciments of tapa cloth made from pounded and tanned strips of mulberry bark, fans, war-clubs, native ornaments, cooking utensils, miniature canoes, cotton fabrics, and  various trinkets, shells, and native woods. But the most graphic feature of the exhibit is in the natives themselves - men, women, and children. When the weather permits they are clad in strips of tapa cloth, as scant as decency allows, the girls and women decked with wreaths of flowers of which they are passionately fond. The men sing their war songs, the casting of spears, the throwing of axes, the rush of the canoe, and the shock of battle being depicted in the dance. The tall and by no means ill-favored women have their own songs and dances of a festive and more pleasing nature. All sing and dance, partaking at times of kava, the national drink, the mode of life resembling that in the Javanese village, except that there is more war in the atmosphere. The people are clean and hospitable, and their houses, thatched with wild sugar cane, the floors being spread with mats, are cheerful and airy. Mats, it may be here remarked, play a most important part in the lie of a Samoan. When a tribe goes to war the first thing to be done is to secure the mats in a place of safety; for they descend as priceless heirlooms from family to family, and without them a bride's dower would be considered entirely incomplete.
The Samoan village is in charge of Henry J. Moors, an American who has lived in Samoa for a score of years, is a master of the South Sea dialect, the confidant of the deposed Mataafa, induced the islanders to leave their homes in Fiji, Wallis Island, and Samoa, and is responsible for their safe return, the exhibit being organized by the Oceanic Trading company, of Chicago.
Of all the foreign countries which find expression at the Fair none are better represented than Johore, a sultanate at the southern extremity of the Malay peninsula, rich in timber and other woods, and with a soil well adapted to the growth of rice, coffee, tobacco, sugar-cane, and other tropical products. Of the display contained in the Agriculture building mention has already been made, and elsewhere, especially in the Johore bungalow, occupied by the retainers of the sultan, are other exhibits, of which Rounsevelle Wildman is in charge, forming together a complete exemplification, not only of the productions, but of the buildings, implements, arms, dress, and customs of this cosmopolitan people, which includes besides Malays, Chinese, Javanese,  Siamese, Arabs, and Dyaks. In models are structures of many patterns, from the rude huts of the aboriginal Saki and Jacoons to the palace of the rajah and the mosque where his subjects worship. There are also models of every form of boat used by the aboriginal or by the modern Malay and Chinaman, with a primitive forge and blacksmith's tools and household and other utensils of quaint device. There are costumes of many descriptions, from such as are worn by the sultan's company of Chinese actors to a bridal dress and to the usual attire of the various classes, together with the loom on which is woven the national garment known as the sarong. The bungalow itself was built in Johore, is thatched with palm and raised several feet above ground, as it the custom in that country for protection against tigers, snakes, and ants. In the upper room is the bed of a Malay rajah and the throne on which he sits at meat.
Passing the natatorium on the southern side of the plaisance, we come to the panorama of the Bernese Alps contained in the building adjacent, and as this represents, as I have said, the sole contribution of Switzerland to the department of Fine Arts, it is worthy of more than passing mention. Certain it is that if panoramas can ever be classed as works of art, this mammoth depiction, covering more than 6,000 square feet, is worthy of that distinction. Of Alpine paintings there is no lack, and scores of times have the Jungfrau and the Matterhorn been placed on canvas, their beauty and sublimity, their scenic effect and stupendous proportions rendered so far as such rendition was possible. But here is not a single alp but an entire range of alps; nor a mere prostitution of nature to catch the eye of the sight-seer, but an interpretation of the genius of the mountains in all their majesty and loveliness.
By a citizen of Geneva, Henneberg by name, three Swiss artists were chosen for the task, men of repute, but each in a separate line of art, and forming together an excellent combination for such an artistic enterprise. These were Eugene Burnand, eminent as a landscape and animal painter, and perfectly at home in Alpine subjects; M. Furet, also a landscape artist, whose themes are usually chosen from the middle regions and the plains; and Baud-Bovy who passes much of his time in studies of local life, and especially the life of mountaineers. By this trio were chosen four collaborators, and to these were later added three Parisian artists. In the summer of 1891 the party encamped on the summit of the Maennlichen alp, and there passed several months in study and sketching; then returning to Paris, they shut themselves up in their studio, a large circular shed, formerly used for a military panorama, and in October of the following year the work was completed, receiving from the ablest of critics unqualified commendation and winning for its artificers the cross of the legion of honor.
Standing on an inner platform which here represents the Maennlichen, its summit facing the Bernese alps and standing like a tall promontory between the valleys of Lauterbrunnen and Grindelwald, the spectator views, as from a belvedere, the entire panorama of the Oberland. Here are all the most beautiful and majestic elements of alpine scenery; fields of virgin  snow; glaciers and walls of rock, seamed with cascades or interlaced, as with threads of silver, by the filmy veil of waterfalls; valleys and canons furrowed by mountain torrents; grass-covered slopes and the sombre foliage of forests, with hee and there a peaceful hamlet nestling among lush meadows and thriving orchards. Then comes the reverse side of the picture, a spacious undulating plain, with the village of Interlachen, the blue waters of Lake Thun, and beyond, the dim outline of Jura, all forming a scene of surpassing loveliness - the idyll of the pictorial drama.
But, as is remarked by Philippe Godet, laureate of the academy, the "keynote of this grand symphony is the imposing pile of the Bernese alps, which displays itself from the Maennlichen in all its magnificence. Here is the Jungfrau, bathing its pure brow in the ether; to the right, the Blumlis alp with its finely cut profile; the broad ridges of the Breithorn and Tschingelhorn; to the left of the queen of the Oberland, the Moench, with its huge steeps of ice; the Eiger, shooting into the air its rugged silhouette and turning its precipitous front to the setting sun; the Schreckhorn, darting solitary into the blue; the Wetterhorn, moulded and poised like an ideal temple. At the feet of this range of giants, the two valleys spread themselves lazily out; on the left, Grindelwald, the silvery roofs of its chalets, its fruit trees and ploughed fields, its dark masses of forest, scaling the steep inclines; its cowboys, its herds of cattle white and red; its parti-coloured goats, all basking in the sun; on the right, opening out like a bottomless abyss, the sterner valley of Lauterbrunnen, with the Staubbach and the White Lutschine, hurrying to join her Black sister."
Perhaps the greatest charm in this half rood of canvas; for in no smaller compass could the impression be conveyed; is the perfect development and relation of all the parts to one harmonious whole, though composed of the most diverse and heterogeneous elements. Even among the higher alps, where Wetterhorn and Shreckhorn, Eiger and Jungfrau raise their snow-capped summits thousands of feet above their neighbors, there is a certain rhythm of outline, a balance of plane, in keeping with the design and yet a faithful reproduction of nature's handiwork. The verdure on their lower slopes and the landscape vistas at their feet all add to the general effect, while a dark network of forests affords an artistic setting for plains and valleys. "I have seen many panoramas," said the president of the Alpine club; "but I never saw one that impressed me so profoundly as this. I hope to see it again; since we are assured the painting will be returned to Paris after the Columbian Exposition for which it was intended."
In connection with the panorama of the Bernese alps may be mentioned that of the volcano of Kalauea, displayed in a polygonal building further to the west of the plaisance and on the opposite side of the avenue. Over the portal is the figure of Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of fie, its pose suggested by the well-known legend of a race wherein the goddess, being worsted by a native prince, pursued him in a chariot of molten lava, hurling fire-brands after him as he sought refuge in the sea. Circling the walls within are some 22,000 square feet or nearly half an acre of canvas, whereon is depicted "the inferno of the Pacific," the largest volcano on the face of the earth. While not without merit, it does not compare with the other as a panoramic painting, the effect being largely produced by electric lights, pyrotechnics, and other mechanical contrivances. The point of observation is in the very heart of the crater, and not on its brow where thousands of travellers have stood. Gazing upward and around, the spectator is encompassed with  a hissing, bubbling sea of lava, with tongues of flame and clouds of steam rising from fathomless pits to overhanging crags and masses of rock. All this is expressed with studied but not with artistic realism, fragments of rock being blended with painted cliffs on which are dummies and painted figures, presumably intended for tourists, while flashlights in various colors, with detonation of bombs and crackers, imitate in showman fashion the awful grandeur of an eruption.
Adjacent to the Alpine panorama is the Turkish village, a typical exhibit of the Ottoman empire, spread over a spacious area and arranged in attractive style by Robery Levy, its concessionaire, representing the firm of Saadullah, Suhami and company, Constantinople. Here are no antique castles, no grim weapons or warriors, no peasants, or peasants' homes; instead are luxurious pavilions and bazaars, a miniature mosque, a theatre, with Turkish sedan bearers, and costly articles of furniture and decoration, all true to the life of Turkey in Europe and Turkey in Asia. At one corner of the village stands the mosque, with its gilded dome 60 feet high and its slendor minaret rising to an equal height. It was erected by special permission of the Ottoman government and dedicated with much pomp and ceremony, as well it might be; for this was the first time that a Mohammedan temple had been consecrated outside the limits of the Mohammedan world.
On the appointed day the muezzin, from his perch in the tall white tower, summoned the faithful to prayers and to the dedication ceremonies. They came from all directions, advancing in long procession some 3,000 strong, headed by a military band. Though accompanied by native musicians sounding their shrill pipes and discordant drums, and by a contingent of Turks in gorgeous uniforms over whom floated the crimson banner of the porte, the majority of the participants were of the Caucasian race. Attired in scarlet fezes embroidered with the crescent, they were popularly known as the shriners, and officially as the "Ancient Arabic order of Nobles of the Mystic Shrine," an organization which flourished in Turkey many years before it gained a foothold in the United States, the majority of those who took part in the exercises being members of the Medina temple of Chicago. The procession wound through the village, the men entering the mosque in sandals or without substantial foot-wear, and soon all were at prayer. In his little square shrine, hung with rich tapestry, stood the high priest, and behind him a row of thirteen assistants. The ceremony was of the briefest - merely a recitation of passages from the ritual, in  which the muezzin and his brethren wee the prominent figures, the congregation responding with frequent prostrations, and devout exclamations of Allah! A banquet followed in an adjoining hall; a handsome Damascus blade was presented to the Medina temple by the concessionaire, and the celebration was at an end.
Close to the mosque is the refreshment pavilion, with wide arched veranda, its interior decorated with silken curtains and the finest of oriental fabrics. Here are served lemonades, sherbets and other Turkish drinks, with oranges, raisins, bananas, tamarinds, and pomegranates. To the south is a small structure enclosing a Persian tent, 160 years old, and formerly belonging to one of the shahs, who pitched it many a day in the hunting ground or the battle field. It represents an immense amount of hand-work, the interior being almost completely covered with figures embroidered in silver, gold, and silk. Here also is the sultan's silver bed of solid metal and most elaborately ornamented, both these priceless treasures being guarded day and night. Near it is a large building in which are exhibited the manufactured and other products of Turkey, this forming the educational portion of the display, while in the centre is its commercial feature, in the form of a grand bazaar with 40 booths. Among the articles offered for sale are tapestries, embroideries, rugs, carpets, silverware, filigree work peculiar to the orient, brass-ware, precious stones and jewelry, ancient arms and relics, and in a word whatever is produced and found throughout the broad empire of the porte. Restaurants are grouped in the neighborhood, the caf� proper supplying the genuine Mocha coffee, and offering the visitor a huge water pipe filled with native tobacco. While thus engaged, he listens to the native band, and later perhaps, visits the native theatre, where the favorite performance is "A Wedding in Damascus," in which, after all misunderstandings have been settled and the wedding festivities are actually in progress, the women appear in a series of dances.
In front of the bazaar are reproductions of two ancient monuments, one, near the refreshment, of Cleopatra's needle, and the other near the caf�, representing the Serpentine column. The latter was fashioned of three intertwining serpents, and was erected at Delphi to commemorate the victory of Plataea. In rear of the bazaar are cottages in which men and women are engaged in the manufacture of rugs, laces, embroideries, brassware, and other industries pertaining to the country. The largest of these buildings is a candy factory and salesroom, the most popular of oriental sweets being known as Rahat-el-Lo-koom; that is to say, comfort of the throat.
But attracting more attention than anything else in the village, is a small, white-bearded man whom Mark Twain introduced to the world many years ago. It is related in Innocents Abroad how the author selected him for his guide through the narrow, tortuous streets of Constantinople. Although he could speak English, the man was rather of tactiturn mood, and Twain was so much interested in what he say that he did not care to talk. Finally, after they had traveled together for a while, the latter  asked the guide his name. "Moses," was the reply. Now, having always lived in Constantinople, Moses was not specially interested in its sights, and while Twain would be standing before some gorgeous mosque or bazaar, as though rooted with the intensity of admiration, his guide would still keep plodding on. The humorist was so often distanced in this unequal contest that he dubbed him "far-away Moses," and thus he was recognized by thousands who visited the plaisance.
The Moorish palace, adjoining the Turkish village on the west, is architecturally interesting, as of the type so familiar and once so widely represented in Africa and Spain. Within it rugs, tiles, bronzes, swords, works of art, and curios are sold by turbaned Moors, who also act as waiters in the local restaurant. Figures in wax give the visitor a clear idea of the people which once played no mean part in the history of the world, and, if inclined, he may become so entangled in an ingenious labyrinth of optical illusions as to imagine a swart-visaged Berber in every corner. There are also about sixty groups in wax on the second floor, the figures being made in Paris, and representing not only European rulers but historic Americans. Scattered through the building are comely women, some in wax and others of flesh and blood, the skillful disposition of mirrors assisting to make the illusions more complete. In a separate chamber is a grewsome sight in the form of the scaffold and guillotine used for the execution of Marie Antoinnette, the executioner and attending officials being shown in wax. In the background a painting represents a crowd of the proletariat gloating over her death, and near the guillotine, the blade of which is rusted with blood, is the wicker basket ready to receive the head of the victim.
In contrast with the Moorish palace and the Javanese colony is the German village, adjacent to the latter and covering nearly one sixth of the northern side of the plaisance. All the structures, 36 in number, illustrate the mediaevel architecture of that country, and especially of Bavaria. The visitor enters through the arched portal of a square tower, over which is the inscription "To the Golden Tankard." Within, music pavilions and refreshment halls are plentiful, Edelweiss beer served by rosy cheeked Bavarian barmaids, with bare, well-rounded arms, flowing freely, not into golden tankards but into capacious beer glasses. Two military bands are on the grounds, the cavalry band in white uniforms, and the infantry in red and blue, thus combining the national colors of the United States. The latter has 48 pieces and is composed of army veterans, its leader being Eduard Ruscheweyh, who served in the wars with Austria and France, and for many years was royal musical director of Prussia.
On the left of the entrance  is the rich and massive facade of a Hessian town-hall, with carved outer staircase - the traditional Bridal stairs. It has a high slate roof, and over its broad gate is sculptured on the frieze the date of erection as in the original - "Anno Domini, 1584." Here are several typically furnished peasants' homes, with figures in characteristic raiment and specimens of home manufactures. The huge base timbers and the crude painting and frescoes are exact imitations, as also are the tall windows of stained glass, venerable in appearance. From the balcony depend festoons of woolen cloth, spun centuries ago upon hand-looms, the simple designs worked with flaxen threads. The main body of the hall, however, is occupied by the museum, many of its rarest articles being contained in models of colleges and others in plain cases. The array of bronze masks and images carries one back many hundreds of years, Bavaria contributing many curious head-dresses and jewels, with here and there a relic of Columbus' times. Huge silver chains and iron rings, jeweled head-gear worn by the brides of old, and antique caps of golden braid donned by wealthy matrons stand side by side with wooden clothes-beaters and book-jacks ingeniously carved, and huge powder flasks of bone ornamented with silver.
The museum forms a portion of a valuable ethnological collection, which is substantially completed in the picturesque German castle towering aloft from the centre of the village, surmounted by turrets and spires, and surrounded by palisades and moats. Reaching the entrance tower beyond a model drawbridge, the visitor may take either of two passage-ways. Following one of them, he comes to a large wooded garden, provided with tables and chairs, restaurants, and pavilions for the bands already mentioned. Here one may partake of viands served as at the hotel Kaiserhof, of Berlin, to the sound of music provided by Herman Wolff, the director of the Philharmonic society and army inspector of Prussia.
Entering the castle, through the old sixteenth century  gateway, the visitor is confronted at the entrance to a museum of ethnology with a group in wax of the national warriors and heroes of Germany. Around an heroic figure of Germania are the eagle-plumed Armenius; the warlike, unlettered genius, Charlemagne; Otto the warrior churchman, who carries a cathedral in his arms; the long-bearded Frederick Barbarossa, friend of the people, and old Kaiser William of United Germany, who was with us in the flesh not many years ago. A foot-soldier of the Thirty Years' war stands on either side of Germania, and here also are representatives of Frank and Roman soldiery. The walls are covered with weapons of early date, with flags taken from the nations against which Germany has warred, and with tapestries and silks of the sixteenth century, when Italy with the looms of Genoa, Florence, and Venice, was in the grasp of Germany and Spain. There are German peasants dressed in gayly colored homespun goods, tinsel, and embroideries glistening with gold and silver threads. They are of all ages and provinces, and it is difficult to believe that they are merely studies in still life. In the hall of Germania are lance and axe heads, arrow points, knives, and other weapons, utensils, and ornaments gathered from Roman and German tombs, some crude and simple, others rudely beautiful, and all relics of the days when Teutonic tribes were warring among themselves in the forests of Germany, as yet unbroken to the Roman yoke. These are reproductions from the Berlin museum, mainly collected from the burial places of Saxony, Hanover, Schleswig-Holstein, and Hungary, where the ancient German tribes longest retained their primitive customs.
The chapel of the castle contains knights in full armor, with coats of mail of every variety, from the earliest to comparatively recent times. Old and tattered banners line the walls, in company with rare etchings and paintings. The evolution of armored suits is shown, from the crude chain breastplate to the full steel garment with movable joints, a suit of mail inlaid with silver, bearing the royal arms of Austria, having seen service in the Thirty Years' war. The central figures of this group are two horsemen armed cap-a-pie, the heads and bodies of their steeds being protected with heavy plates as during the sixteenth century. Above this warlike array of the mediaeval ages, and side by side with such bloody emblems as the blue and yellow banners of the Burgundian knights, are pictures of such artists of the period as Cranach and Bugiardini, whose themes were tender, soft-eyed children in the arms of Christ or the madonna. Near these are the angels and symbolized virtues which sprung from the brain and soul of Raphael.
 - In chambers adjoining the chapel are hundreds of single and two-handed swords, with daggers, battleaxes, guns, cross-bows, powder-horns, pistols, and combination guns and spears, grouped in cases hung upon the walls and stacked in various devices. There are the heavy swords of the German tribes - some of them seven feet long, - which the muscular Teutons wielded, and the short broadswords of the Romans, more readily handles and of superior metal. Ivory handled halberts, strangely carved powder-flasks, daggers grooved to contain deadly poison, cross-bows for war and the chase, some with stocks inlaid with silver and ivory, delicate Italian blades, stirrups, helmets, and gloves are exhibited in endless variety. Here is a gun the stock of which is covered with copper and gold, carried in the sixteenth century by a grand-duke of Brunswick. The cross of Burgundy and the chains of the Golden Fleece appear upon the ivory handle of another, and the sun-wheel of the old German pagans flames upon sword hilts not far removed from those which bear the Christian cross. A sword with pistol attachment is the weapon which Von Hutten bore when he came to arrest his friend Martin Luther, and near by is the spur of Charlemagne and a box that belonged to the elector of Saxony. Each treasure has a history and is of unquestionable authenticity, the entire collection being so arranged as to show the evolution of arms, the evolution of armor being illustrated in the chapel and of national costumes in Germania hall.
Near the Hessian town-hall are the typical homes of the peasantry, each one large enough to contain the horses, cows, pigs, and fodder, in addition to its human inmates, the ground floor serving for stalls and stables, the first floor for family use, and the hay loft above all. A fantastic specimen of architecture if the flaring roof of a cottage in the Black forest, which descends like the wings of a brooding hen almost to the ground. In winter when the forest is wrapped in a mantle of snow, this cottage is turned into a factory, where painted wooden villages with wonderful figures of quadrupeds and human beings play the leading part. The Westphalian house is stately and cathedral-like in comparison, having a high pointed roof thatched with straw, and above the gable, horses' heads carved in wood, the tribal symbol of the ancient Saxons. Through its half opened horizontally divided doors comes the pungent aroma of a Westphalia ham as it is carried from the smoke chamber. Diagonally opposite is the Upper Bavarian house of pronounced highland type, with carved doors and wide verandas, with the cross surmounting the gable, closely resembling a Swiss cottage. More rudely constructed is the Spree Forest log farm-house, its gable rafters bearing carved heads of wolves which proclaim that its ancient inmates were the fierce and warlike Vandals.
The German village comes nearer to being an expression of national sentiment than any exhibit made by the empire. The project was warmly supported by the government, and the list of its attractions is included in the official catalogue issued by the German commissioners. For this unique and interesting display, credit is due to Ulrich Jahn, of Charlottenburg, a pupil and friend of Professor Virchow. With the financial support  of the German and national banks of Berlin, he organized a company styled the German Ethnographical Exhibition, with a capital of nearly $400,000, C. B. Schmidt of Omaha being placed in charge of the enterprise in Chicago. The ethnological exhibits are valued at many times that amount, the museum of armor and arms alone being estimated at $1,000,000. This collection is the result of fifteen years of labor on the part of Richard Zschille, a town councillor of Grossenheim, near the Dresden, and a friend of the king of Saxony. The plan and scope of the entire display were matured with the assistance of a committee of artists and scientific men, such men as Professor Virchow, rector of the university of Berlin; Baurath Wallot, the architect of the new German Reichstag building; Eugene Bracht and Von Heyden, celebrated painters; A. Voss, director of the Royal Ethnographic museum, and Cohn, Siemens and Magnus, the Berlin bankers. The architectural plans were made under the direction of Carl Hoffacker, a professor in the Berlin Art academy, and the village was built by the firm of Philip Holzmann and company of Frankfort-on-the-Main, all the wood-work being of German material.
Few nations have developed their inner culture more fully than the German empire. Though many tribes may have broke loose from the strong ties of the ancient Germanic family, each adhering tenaciously to tribal peculiarities of thought and custom, there nevertheless has obtained among them all a unanimity of sentiment, a warm of instinct of kinship, which has at last ripened into the empire of United Germany. As the tribal peculiarities are in no particular more sharply manifest than in variety of costume and domestic architecture, the management of the German village has fully illustrated, and in most graphic and interesting form, these phases of national life.
Zoopraxiscopic hall is the building of formidable name in which are given illustrated lectures on animal locomotion as applied to art. The discourses and the pictures are both entertaining and instructive, and through them one may learn surprising facts as to animals in motion and the positions which they assume. Investigation in this line is a speciality which has been pursued within comparatively recent years, among the most prominent of those who have engaged in it being Ottomar Anschuetz, of Lissa, Prussia, whose tachyscopes are exhibited in the electricity building, and Eadmund Maybridge, who displays some of his results in the hall on the plaisance. With photographic apparatus so perfected than an exposure of one ten-thousandth part of a second is sufficient for a truthful impression, the labors of such men have been prolific as results. The step of a man in the act of walking has been photographed at various points of motion, as well as the jumping and galloping of a horse, the climbing of a monkey, and the flight of a bird, with its motions upon the ground. Thus long established ideas which have obtained even among the most observant artists have been corrected, these investigations being of interest and value to the scientist as well as to the world of art.
Adjoining this exhibition is the Persian palace, which reproduces a portion of the royal residence of the shah of Ispahan, the large hall on the first floor being decorated with all the richness of coloring characteristic of Persian taste. On the second floor are a restaurant and tea house, the beverage being brewed in large urns and containing floating slices of lemon, as in Russia. In various booths near by are weavers of carpets, rugs, shawls, and plain and striped silks, for which the Persians are famous. There are also makers of satins, brocades, and velvets, manufacturers of bronze work, engravers in brass and other metals, cutters and polishers of gems, and those who prepare the candies and sweetmeats of which Persian women love to partake. Although the caf� contains, besides its black-eyed waiters, a number of dancing girls, there is a special hall in another part of the palace, in which are entertainments of a questionable character. In the theatre a troop of men supply the amusements, performing in a small pit, where magicians thrust knives and swords into various portions of the body, and athletes, tall and swarthy, swing clubs, wrestle, and lift and throw heavy weights. These with  sleight-of-hand men, merchants, waiters, danseuses, artisans, and others, number about seventy, and make the Persian building a lively place for those who care for such entertainments.
Beyond it, to the north, are the manifold sights and noises of the street in Cairo, whose plastered walls, irregular buildings, and babel of sounds do not at first create an agreeable impression, though when the picture is examined in detail, the contrast between the unsightly and the picturesque is not without interest. The principal entrance is through the broad, low, eastern portal, where at once the visitor finds himself in the ancient African city. Here from the brick courtyard and the tiny booths one gazes down the street, with its curious bay-windowed houses, and bazaars on either side, and above, the graceful minaret of the mosque. Visitors are scattered more plentifully among the Arabs, merchants, Soudanese, donkey boys, performing monkeys, and snake charmers, than in Cairo itself; but here is a thoroughfare on which are people of many races and proclivities. Arabs, Soudanese, Egyptians, and Europeans have all their separate quarters in Cairo; but in the city as in the street they sometimes wander abroad amid the cosmopolitan throng. It is when the wedding or the birthday procession passes along that the populace turns out in force and conjurers, astrologers, snake charmers, and dancers strive to win admiration and reward. The wedding procession is of daily occurrence, pert Arabian and Soudanese children running ahead as heralds, and  the torch-bearer waving aloft his sign of office. The oriental band brays in honor of the event, which is succeeded by a parade of donkeys and half-naked wrestlers, while swordsmen with scimitars and shields indulge in special contests of skill. Jesters, mounted upon camels and fantastically dressed, slap each others' faces, and do as would their brothers at Barnum's or Forepaugh's circus, while after all comes the central figure, amid the commotion - the coy bride, hidden under a rose-colored canopy, preceded by her bridesmaids and an unladen camel gorgeously caparisoned.
The mosque, around which swarms so much of this heterogeneous throng, is a substantial counterpart of that of the sultan Kait Bey, all save the minaret, which is a reproduction of the tower above the mosque of Abou Bake Bazhar. The massive doors of this house of worship are rich in metallic ornamentations and gorgeous in coloring. Entering the sanctuary the scene is one of oriental splendor, softened by the graceful draperies and the mellow light shed by its many pendent lamps. Regular services are held every Friday at noon, but five times daily the priest from the gallery of the minaret summons the faithful to prayer. At daybreak, just after high noon, in the middle of the  afternoon, immediately after sunset, and at nightfall is heard the chant: "God is great; God is great. There is only one God, and Mohammed is his prophet. Let us pray; let us begin. God is great; God is great."
Across the street from the mosque is the restored dwelling of one Gamal-el-Din-el-Yahbi, a rich Arab of the seventeenth century. Its facade is more elaborate, and its balconies, which extend from the upper stories, are larger than are found in the average residence. The doors are inlaid with ivory and exquisitely carved, while the gilded ceilings, mosaics, elaborate draperies, and beautiful rugs which adorn the living apartments tell of luxury if not of refinement. Beyond this aristocratic mansion is a long row of shops and dwellings - bazaars below, and living apartments above - a turn in the street leading to a marble pavilion, its lower story pierced with arched windows, while above are light arcades covered with arabesques and crowned with balconies. In the Kuttab or mosque school the children are taught to read the koran, and there is a model school in operation, the upper room of which is thrown open to visitors as a convenient observatory. Near by is a handsomely decorated theatre, where dark-eyed Egyptian girls in gauzy garments, with great golden ornaments in their head-dresses and tiny cymbals upon their fingers, dance in dangerous proximity to sharp swords and lighted candles. The semi-circular stage is line with divans and on either side are richly curtained rooms, these for the dancers and musicians.
Through the handsomest portal in the street one passes into the Okaka, a quadrangular court or arcade. Here is the commercial quarter or exchange, more pretentious than the place where shopmen spread their wares in what are little more than niches in the house walls. On all sides of the court are pointed arches, one above the other, every quarter of the Nile country contributing to the varied and picturesque display. Ivory, jewelry, pottery, and brasswork, embroidery, ancient gold and silver coins, Soudanese arms and draperies, mummies, beetles, national costumes, lotus soap, toilet appliances, and myriads of household articles are offered by merchants in gay attire, both goods and salesmen adding to the architectural attractions of the court. Many of the articles here contained are being manufactured in the houses, where are makers of slippers, silk-weavers at their looms, fez and tent-makers, embroiderers, smiths fashioning the filigree work of the Soudan, potters turning and decorating jars, candy makers, manufacturers of musical instruments, and carvers in wood, ebony, and ostrich eggs.
A noted character in Cairo street is Hadj Hamud Nuir, a fortune teller and descended from the long line of seers, the first of his family sitting in the shade of the sphinx and bidding Egyptian damsels beware of white men who came to them from the Red sea with promises which they never intended to fulfil. He is a dignified personage, but somewhat eccentric in his habits, conning his books during the witching hours of night, when all others are sound asleep.
Around the court in the west end of the street are the ancient temple of Luxor and the section given over to Soudanese and Nubians. The  temple is a close copy of the one near Thebes, built about 1,400 B. C., and afterward the principal seat of ancient worship. Two obelisks stand in front, the exterior walls being painted to represent the warlike deeds of the Rameses, during whose dynasty the glory of the ancient faith was restored. The third monarch of that line is also represented by two mighty figures at the entrance, and the inner walls are depictured with events in the lives of the Pharaohs, whose dried and embalmed remains are represented in rows of cases which extend to the altar of Isis at the farther end of the hall. Rameses III is first in the line of mummies, and back of the altar are the tombs of Thi and Apis the Sacred bull.
North of the temple are the Soudanese and Nubians, living in bark huts, oval in shape and thatched with split reeds or corn-stalks. The former, with their sword dances and mimic contests with long-bladed weapons, revive memories of the campaign undertaken for the relief of General Gordon. A large portion of the contingent came from Khartoum or its vicinity and, within the walls of Cairo street is one who performs a warlike dance in which the long Egyptian gun, often levelled at the soldiers of the British army, is handled with telling effect. The dancing of girls and children, some of the latter little more than infants, is merely a series of writhing and contortions offensive to taste and disgusting to look upon. The Boushreens are the most savage of the tribes whose representatives come from Soudan, while the Nubians appear to conform more to the appearance and costumes of the Egyptians. The women have pendants of gold and silver in their ears, such as are worn by their sisters farther to the north, with an abundance of bracelets around arms and ankles.
About midway in the plaisance, and the most conspicuous object therein, is the mechanical wonder of the Fair, one that is to the Columbian Exposition what the Eiffel tower, yet standing in the Champs de Mars, was to the Paris Exposition of 1889. This is the Ferris wheel, named after its artificer, G. W. G. Ferris, president of a Pittsburgh engineering firm whose specialty is the construction of bridges. It was not until December, 1892, that the concession was granted, and in the following month the materials used were still in the form of rough lumber and pig iron; on the 20th of March ground was broken for the foundations, and on the 20th of June the completed wheel began to revolve. The structure consists of two wheels some 30 feet apart and connected by iron rods and struts, which nowhere come within 20 feet of the periphery, It is 320 feet in diameter and 30 in width at the exterior rim, rising from a platform raised 15 feet above the ground. The rim of each wheel is composed of a curved, hollow frame of iron, within which is another wheel with lighter frame. In the centre of the circle is the iron axle on which it turns, nearly three feet thick and 45 in length, the entire mass resting on a pyramidal framework at either side, and held together by steel rods, extending in pairs from the axle to the circumference, where they are 13 feet apart. Viewed at a distance these rods appear like spider webs, giving to the fabric, with its freight of human beings, a dangerous and unsubstantial aspect; but more clearly to explain its mechanism, it may be stated that the interior portion of the wheel is constructed as in a bicycle, with the difference that the former hangs by its axle while the latter rests on the ground.
 - Ascending a broad staircase, the visitor passes through a doorway, between two iron beams, into a cheerful looking apartment with plate glass windows, and on either side, rows of revolving chairs. Except that the windows are barred with iron gratings, and that above are other chambers poised in air, he would not know that he is already on one of the cars of the Ferris wheel; but so it is. Of these cars there are six and thirty, with iron, wood-covered frame, each 27 feet long, 13 in width, and 9 in height, with a weight of 13 tons and seating accommodation for 40 passengers. All are connected with the outer rim by an axle which passes through the roof, the wheel being moved by cogs and the motive power resembling that of the power-house of a cable car company.
Presently is hear the click of a latch, and with a slight creaking sound, but almost without perceptible motion, except what is apparent to the eye, the car starts on its twenty minutes' trip. At first the passenger may not be perfectly at ease, though assuming an air of careless unconcern; but in each compartment is a conductor, who by calling attention to objects of interest, banishes the fear of what might happen should the car break loose from its moorings and launch into space. Apart from a little rattling of windows and a gentle swaying motion, as of a vessel rocked on a summer sea, there is nothing to unsettle the nerves of woman or child, though on the first voyage many close their eyes. As the ascent is made, one first looks down on the roofs of the plaisance villages, and then toward the north, the south, and west the great midcontinent metropolis lifts into vision in fleeting and kaleidoscopic vistas. Eastward are the temples of the Fair; beyond, the blue waters of Michigan; and still beyond, the opposite shores of the lake, some 50 miles away, are dimly outlined on the horizon. As the huge, revolving orb approaches the apex of the circle, the mammoth structures of Jackson park dwindle into liliputian proportions, the park itself into a plaza, and its throng of sightseers into a pygmean host. Then from an elevation of 250 feet, almost on a level with the summit of the dome which crowns the Administration building, the descent is smoothly made, and the visitor has completed his initial tour on the Ferris wheel.
By night the trip is even more attractive; for the great wheel is ablaze with 2,500 electric lights attached to the outer rim, to the inner circle, to the spokes, the portals, the enclosing fence, and wherever else such lights could be placed to advantage. Far above the myriads of lamps that illumine the city of the Fair, towers this rainbow of revolving light, seen afar on the prairie and lake, like the bow of scientific promise set athwart the blackness of the night. As with the entire Exposition, by day its aspect is imposing; by night it is beautiful, with an almost supernatural beauty, as though in this Midway plaisance with its nondescript buildings, its babel of tongues, its discordant music, and raucous outcries, were placed by way of contrast a glimpse of fairyland, a vision of the Arabian Nights.
As to the mechanical part of this stupendous fabric it may further be said that, while itself of no great practical value, it is a step forward and a very decided step, in the science of engineering. Both in the Eiffel tower and the Ferris wheel are more or less adapted the principles of the cantilever bridge; but while the former was merely a bridge set on end, the latter was a bridge whose extremes were united in the form  of a revolving circle, in a structure solid and safe in every component part, with a total weight of more than 1,100 tons, aside from its supports, and yet with workmanship in parts almost as delicate as that of a chronometer. When a novelty was demanded for the Columbian Exposition, one that should be at least as striking and original as the tower, many plans were submitted, but none that fulfilled the conditions. Then it was that the Pittsburgh engineer bethought him of his wheel, which while serving as a medium of observation for passengers, would stand as one of the architectural monuments of the Fair. To insure its safety, each bolt and beam, each rod and girder was thoroughly tested, and the strain at every point was calculated with the utmost nicety. Early in the season a hurricane with a velocity of 100 miles an hour passed through the structure without the least symptom of damage, save that on the night of the hurricane the cars ran somewhat bare of passengers.
Within the shadow of this mechanical triumph of the Exposition stands a small wooden building which contains a model of the Eiffel tower, 20 feet in height, with a miniature representation of its environment. In this were used 650,000 pieces of metal, as in the tower itself, the elevators being in constant motion, while 1,000 incandescent lights are displayed on the model and on the miniature grounds and street adjacent. Groves of trees are woven in silk, and at the foot of the structure an electric fountain plays from a basin of marble decorated with statues and vases, the entire reproduction being true to the original, and costing as is said $100,000 to place it in Jackson park.
Among the most interesting structures in the plaisance, though one that appears somewhat out of place in this pleasure ground of the Exposition, is a model of St. Peter's, an exact reproduction of that  monumental edifice on the scale of about one sixtieth of the original. Begun in the sixteenth century, the model was completed in the eighteenth, from drawings by Michael Angelo, San Gallo, Bramante, and other architects and artists of world-wide repute. After being in possession of several of the pontiffs, it became the property of Ludovic de B. Spiridon, by whom it was tendered for exhibition purposes. It is 30 feet in length, 15 in width and height, and constructed of carved wood covered with a substance closely resembling marble. All the more imposing features, together with the minutest details, are faithfully reproduced. There is the great dome, 630 feet in circumference and more than 300 above the roof, completed in 1590 in the Pontificate of Sisto V, who kept 600 men at work upon it day and night at an annual outlay of 100,000 gold crowns. Beneath it is the canopy above the high altar and the tomb of St. Peter, weighing nearly 100 tons and fashioned of bronze stripped from the Pantheon. There are the capellas Clemintina and della Pieta; the chapels of the Holy Sacrament and the Madonna, and the sacristy which Pio VI erected, with its fluted pillars from Hadrian's villa. In the centre of the court inclosed by the colonnade is an Egyptian obelisk, 130 feet high, and carved from a single piece of solid marble. There is the vast, central nave, with its imposing arches and aisles, its shrines and sanctuaries, and near the central door, the slab of marble on which the Roman emperors were crowned; all these an other features reproduced in miniature from this masterpiece of mediaevel architecture, the execution of which cost $60,000,000 and extended over the reign of three and forty pontiffs.
In the building which contains the model are portraits of the popes from Gregory IX to Leo XIII; with the coats of arms of pontiffs and cardinals. There is a facsimile of the bronze statue of St. Peter, near which in miniature is Trajan's column from the Roman forum which bears him name. Of other cathedrals, chapels, and monuments there are also models, as of the cathedral of Milan, in dimensions second only to St. Peter's and with no superior in architectural and decorative sceme. The St. Agnese church is here, erected by Innocenzo X in 1664, and there is the pantheon that Agrippa completed a few years before the Christian era, and which Boniface IV consecrated in 609. By night the entire fabric is illuminated with incandescent lights, and in attendance are men armed and uniformed in exact imitation of the Vatican guards.
Second in interest to the German village, and second only, is the Austrian village, or as it is more commonly termed, "Old Vienna," reproducing in part its ancient market place, with portions of the wall that encircled the city and one of its gates, flanked by gray towers and guarded by a portcullis. Opposite the entrance way is the rondello, the original of which was erected in 1622, and so-called from its large low windows built in the form of towers, a typical feature in Austrian architecture, and one largely adopted even at the present day. A conspicuous object is a model of the rathhaus or town-hall, completed in 1799, and one of the  oldest structures in the metropolis. There is a church where services are held as at home, and there are some thirty houses and stores, representing, with the aid of carpentry and scene painting, the fronts of venerable buildings, so far at least as the exteriors are concerned. A clever architectural delusion is created by painted stucco fronts, with inscriptions in old German and Roman text. On one of them, on a dark background inclosed in scroll work, is the inscription, "Ano D. M. 1587." On another, bearing the date of 1590, is a picture of children at play, and on a third a virgin and child are surrounded by a halo of glory, beneath them the words "Soli Deo Gloria."
A feature of Old Vienna is its restaurants and cafes, its beer garden, and its daily concerts by the emperor's band. Near the entrance is a favorite resort conducted by the owner of vineyards whose products are of European celebrity. At the western end is a caf� where the infanta Eulalia partook of refreshments served by a former apprentice to the court confectioner at Buda-Pesth. On the southern side is a booth where the Voslau-Goldeck wines are displayed, a favorite brand among the clubs and hotels of the United States. The beer garden is somewhat of a novelty, occupying three sides of a square, with tables scattered around a music stand, with bill of fare in German script, and Viennese waiter-girls of whom none can speak a word of English. Each one carries a satchel strapped to her waist-band in which her money is kept, and as flirting or conversation with guests is forbidden, the only rivalry is as to the number of glasses of beer which each one can carry without spilling their contents. The shops are stored with articles of jewelry and bric-a-brac, one of them especially displaying excellent workmanship in gold and silver, enamel and rock crystals.
In the ratthaus several of the chambers are fitted up as a museum of the Hellenic period, and here are portraits in wax nearly 2,000 years old, exhumed not many years ago from Egyptian mausoleums. The pictures come from the tombs of Rubijat in the ancient province of Memphis, where, after his conquest of Egypt in the year 320 B. C., Alexander left behind him artists whose names have perished but whose works survive. They are uniform in size, about 14 by 8 inches, and though merely executed on thin boards in colors of wax, probably laid on with knives or other steel implements, are not without artistic qualities. In Berlin they excited much interest and were widely copied, one of the foremost of German artists remarking, "We can paint as well, but no better." But not all are of equal merit, some being the crudest of amateur productions, and a defect that is noticeable in most of them is the exaggerated size of the eye, due to over-coloring of the lids with a view to increase the effect.
The subjects represented are of course unknown, some being portraits of Egyptian and others of Syrian and Phoenician personages; but as a rule of light complexion and of no special race type. Among the best is  one of an aged may of earnest, intellectual features, lustrous eyes, and finely chiselled mouth, on his shoulder the stripe which is often noticed in pictures unearthed from Pompeiian ruins. This was copied by Meissonier, who pronounced it one of the finest portraits he had seen. Another painting is of a priest of Isis, on his breast the golden badge worn by the dignitaries of that ancient order. More comely of aspect is the head of a girl, with symmetric outline and head-dress of purple, showing that the wearer belonged to some family of exalted rank. Finally there are small wooden boards which served as tombstones for mummies, inscribed with Greek characters such as were used in the second century of the Christian era.
Adjacent on the east to the Austrian village is the Chinatown of the Fair, containing under one roof of a bazaar, restaurant, theatre, museum, joss-house, and elsewhere, a tea house and garden. The building is of typical Chinese architecture, 150 by 100 feet, 80 in height, with bell-shaped towers and minarets painted in prismatic colors, beginning with the violet hue of the rainbow. In the bazaar are silks and embroideries, toilet appliances and table ware, with other articles such as are offered for sale in Chinese stores of the better class. In the restaurants meals are served and cooked in mysterious fashion. Here one may partake of the regular fare of the Chinaman; a dish of rice and vegetables, with perhaps a few small pieces of meat or fish; or he may order an elaborate dinner, with courses innumerable and savory, tempting viands, so they be not too closely scrutinized.
But the theatre is the centre of attraction; not for its amusements, its acting, or its equipments; for in these there is little worthy of note; but for the oddity of the performance and for the nature of its themes. In China, as in ancient Greece, the drama is a national and in part a religious institution, controlled by law and forming a prominent factor in religious festivals. Most of the plays are of an historic character, but with little attempt at delineation of character, and with nothing of psychological interest. As in Chinese literature, the pervading tone is morbid and ultra-pessimist, virtue in woman and honor in man being conceded only to a few. But this may be no very unjust aspersion; for here, as has been said, "is a country where the seat of  honor is the stomach; where the roses have no fragrance and the women no petticoats; where the laborer has no Sabbath and the magistrate no sense of integrity."
Six months is no unusual time for the acting of a Chinese drama, even with daily performances; but as this represented the entire term of the Fair, the plays must of course be condensed. No scenery is used, and each actor appears to be his own manager and his own property man; so that on this mimic stage, as on the stage of life, it is the unexpected that always happens. Beards are a feature in the performance, good men wearing long white switches, and those who are evil disposed appearing in whiskers of brown. But these are changed as occasion requires, especially for "blood and thunder" effect. The leading players are what are termed lightning change artists, wearing all the garments needed for their several parts and changing them as required. Thus a man transforms himself from a hero into a villain by simply discarding his suit of blue and standing revealed in green, while a mandarin of the red button who is about to personate an angel, does so by merely changing his pantaloons. A soldier appears on the stage intent on rescuing his betrothed from a band of Tartars, and presently comes to a river which he can only cross by swimming. For this he prepares by stripping to his undergarments, and after standing for a moment as though posing for the nude, ducks his head and disappears through a convenient exit. A moment later he is seen in front of the footlights, dripping with water, and resuming his attire and his armor, sets forth with waving sword in pursuit of the foe.
No women appear on the stage, these being represented by female impersonators in raiment of gorgeous hue, their cheeks thickly coated with pink and white paint, and on their lips the same meaningless, stereotyped grin. The leading impersonator is a man of national repute with intelligent features and searching glance, swift and bright as the falcon's. Pang does very much as he pleases; the more so as there is no call boy and no cue save that which dangles from his head. Seated on a box; for chairs are no part of the property, he leisurely smokes his cigarette while chatting with his fellow histrions. Presently bethinking him that it is time to  appear on the stage, he slowly discards his attire and arrays himself in female garb. Then proceeding to the mirror, he contorts his features into the required expression, and wetting his palms transfers to his face with nimble touch the pigments placed before him. Finally he dons his wig, gives his skirts a final shake, and a moment later his high falsetto voice is ringing through the Chinese theatre.
That "the religion of God is one, but the religions of man are many" was never more forcibly exemplified than in the Midway plaisance, and especially in the Chinese joss-house, with its multitudinous idols and graven images, suggestive not only of Confucianism but of Buddhism and Taoism. Joss is the central figure, and there are many josses, the chief one occupying the post of honor enthroned in hand-embroidered robes. In front of him are incense burners, cups of tea for him to drink, calabashes of water for his toilet, and vases filled with huge artificial roses, while prayers and praises are inscribed on the sides and background of the dais. Lions and griffins guard the doors and keep watch beside the shrines; and illustrating episodes in Chinese history are figures in wood and clay, with lanterns in many fantastic forms. Here and in another gallery is a collection of curiosities, with literature and works of art, or art applied to objects of common utility. Among them is the great dragon of China, 36 feet long and mounted on a pedestal, with mirror-like eyes and scales of burnished brass. Then there are umbrellas for the josses, with other appliances for their comfort and protection. On a large screen is shown a plough of primitive pattern, fashioned of two bent pieces of timber, with share of wood roughly tipped with iron, and harness of plaited grass fitted to the heads of oxen. A scythe for cutting rice, shaped like the letter V, and with a blade on one of its sides, is a no less ancient implement, one probably in use at least four centuries before the Columbian era. Finally there is the most expensive flag on the grounds, costing, it is said, $3,000, hand-embroidered in silk, and designed for presentation to the emperor.
On the opposite side of the plaisance is the Algerian and Tunisian village, where are reproductions in miniature of streets and bazaars, with fountains and ornamental gardens, a concert hall, a Moorish cafe, a Kabyle hall, and the houses and tents of Arabs. Most of the buildings are covered with tiles imported from northern Africa and richly glazed and colored; in many are embroidered hangings and other interior decorations,  and in not a few, music is rendered by native artists on instruments of native manufacture. Of the two concessionaires one is a medallist of all the international expositions held since 1865, winning at Paris in 1889 the highest award for an exhibit of similar character.
In the bazaars are many curiosities side by side with most of the commodities known to the world of commerce, from gems and jewelry to long barrelled muskets and old fashioned flint-lock pistols. There are scimitars whose finely tempered blades are damascened in gold with passages from the koran, and whose hilts are aglow with precious stones. Of daggers there is a wonderful collection in every conceivable pattern, from such as are worn as ornaments to those intended fro more deadly work, some of them poisoned and kept in a case by themselves. There are brocades embroidered with silver and gold; the daintiest of cushions and table-covers with tracings arabesqued in golden threads; laces of film-like fineness, and tissues tasselled and tinted in every hue. In one of the tents cotton cloth is being woven by native women seated on the floor, and elsewhere jewellers are at work fashioning rings and bracelets. Perfumery, with attar of roses, sweetmeats, and seraglio pastilles are offered by dark-eyed damsels swart of complexion but shapely of form; these and many other articles intended to delight the eye and deplete the purse.
Around a Bedouin camp, suggestive of desert life, camel drivers are shouting at their stubborn beasts, which refuse to rise when too heavily burdened. Not far away snake-charmers are swearing by Allah that their serpents are the deadliest of their kind. Conjurors are prepared to measure their skill against all others of their calling, one of them a dark Kabyle Arab making his lunch on living coals of fire. There are swordsmen and swordswomen, two of the latter also from Kabyle, each fencing with a scimitar in either hand, and picking a card from the girdle of her lightly-clad opponent without symptom of injury or fright. Entering the caf�, richly furnished in oriental fashion, the visitor may partake of light refreshments, as ices, confections, and cooling drinks; but here no intoxicating liquors are sold, and there are none within the village.
The concert hall is the favorite resort; not for its music but for its dancing-girls, who are beauties in their way, though with strongly marked features and somewhat too plump of outline. Their attire is modest and not without elements of the picturesque; for the Algerian dancing-girl wears clothes, much more of them at least than the Parisian coryphee, and here is no unseemly display of tightly hosiered limb. Most of them are attired in skirts that reach to the ankle, with loose embroidered waists of silk and bolero jackets spangled with tinsel ornaments. From a bench where all are seated side by side with the orchestra, one of the damsels steps forward and begins to dance, swaying her lithesome form in rhythmical fashion, at first slowly and then in accelerated measure. As the orchestra warms to its work her figure appears to tremble and undulate, as though in an ecstasy of delight; for the motion is rather of the body than of the feet, yet agile and far more graceful than the pirouetting of a premiere. As a rule only one girl dances at a time, each introducing some special feature, while the rest look on with critical eye and applaud when applause is deserved. Among the most pleasing is the scarf dance, where the performer waves scarfs above her head while posing in symmetrical attitudes. But there are other dances, as the sword dance and the torture dance, the latter executed by men, too revolting to be witnessed or described.
Dahomey has a village on the plaisance in the form of a hollow square adjoining Old Vienna, its huts built in native fashion, with rough mud walls thatched with the bark and boughs of trees and with wooden  floors and windows. There is little furniture in these rude habitations and there is not a single pane of glass, the inhabitants sleeping on the floor rolled in skins or coarse blankets of home manufacture. One of the huts, an open structure, serves as kitchen and dining-room, where men and women take their meals al fresco. Here is a modern cooking stove - about the only thing that is modern amid this African community. Other buildings serve at once as workshops and dwellings. In one lives the village blacksmith, whose principal business is the sharpening of spear heads and the repairing of the spikes which protrude from Dahomean war-clubs. This he does seated squat on the ground in front of his domicile. Elsewhere a man is stooping over his embroidery; for in Dahomey this is the work of men, the women, if not nursing their babies, going forth to till the soil or to fight.
In the centre of the enclosure is the theatre, if such can be called a large, open shed, unwalled, with thatched roof and floor of rough planking. Here is the strangest sight among all the spectacular wonders of the plaisance. At one end are grouped the musicians, all of them Dahomeans, all lean and lank, and all supremely hideous. They wear nose and earrings of metal, and as little clothing as decency permits, their dark, shining bodies showing the scars of many a hard fought battle. Seated on the platform is the king, a coal-black potentate, sleepy and fat, with thick, bush beard and head and jaws like a bull-dog. All day long he sits dozing with half-closed eyes and changeless expression of face, if his face can be said to have any expression save that of ferocity and lust. But leaning forward with his hands resting on a cane, and a slave holding an umbrellas above him, his majesty enjoys the music and dancing more perhaps than anything else in life, unless it be the cutting off of heads.
The instruments are as grotesque as the performers, and some of them are fearfully and wonderfully made. The best is a stringed instrument, resembling somewhat the zither seen in the Tyrol, but of ruder workmanship. There is an orchestra of drums and bells, with a single flute, a rattle, and an ivory horn of most primitive pattern. The last is used for giving signals by the warrior who keeps guard over the village, and is similar in shape to the brazen war trumpets used by the ancient Kelts, such as have been exhumed from the bogs of Ireland. There are other horns of wood; with stones shaken in a bag of skin, producing sounds like the hissing of serpents, and vessels and disks of copper clashed together like cymbals. The singing is much better than the instrumentation; for the Dahomeans have a certain knowledge of harmony, and their dances are accompanied with choral song as well as the beat of drum.
The drum-major opens the performance with gentle, rhythmic tapping of drum, rapidly increasing int tone. Then another drum is heard, and presently the clashing of a cymbal, the sound gradually gaining in volume until all the musicians are hard at work. As the concert opens, the men and women crouching in the centre of the floor, some 30 in number, are aroused from sleep or stupor, and rising to their feet, begin to beat time to the music. When all are ready the war-dance or march begins at a signal from their leader. Forward and backward passes this motley crew, brandishing war-clubs and grinning as only Dahomeans can grin. Louder and yet more loud grow the beating of drum, the blast of horn, and the clash of cymbal. Then the posturing begins; but in this there is nothing of the graceful or sensuous; simply a contortion and quivering of limb and body, with swinging of weapons as though nothing would delight them more than to kill and destroy. It is in truth a barbaric spectacle, and the more so as many of the performers are women, the amazons of western Africa, trained for the service of the king and esteemed as the choices of his troops.
From the Arctic zone there are also two Exposition colonies, one of Eskimos from Labrador, and the other from the portion of Lapland near North cape in Norway. The former is likewise termed the Innuit colony, and consists of several families, each living in a cabin covered with moss or bark. There was also a snow  house during the earlier part of the season, and in a topek or lodge are kayaks or canoes, with paddles, harpoons, nets, sleeping bags, and all other articles needed for the outfit of an Innuit hunter. Within the enclosure is an arm of the lagoon, where are illustrated Eskimo methods of boating, fishing, and seal hunting; and on one side is a pen for dogs, of which many are running around the village, such as are used for draught animals, offensive to sight and smell, but strong, powerfully limbed, and with thick coating of hair. Sledges are driven by an Eskimo boy, armed with a heavy whip fifteen feet in length, the crack of which is heard afar in the grounds. Not a few of the inhabitants have learned to speak the English language and conversely freely and intelligently about the Fair and the part which they play therein. Their winter dress is of seal skin, and in summer a suit of pearl-gray color trimmed with fur - a tunic, pantaloons, moccasins, and a hood. Both sexes are attired alike, except that in the garb of the women is more of ornamentation and that their hoods are larger; for these also serves as baby holders, in which the little one rests on the mother's shoulders.
The village of the Laps is a miniature reproduction of a Lapland settlement, with huts of skins banked with moss, in which a fire is always burning, the smoke escaping through a hole in the roof when the wind is in the right direction, and if not, remaining where it is. There are but two dozen inhabitants in all, and the oldest of them is King Bull, whose descendants represent several generations. The king is 112 years of age, and with him is a son aged 90, a grandson of 73, and a great granddaughter of 59, the last the mother of a son of 41, whose own son is 29, this latter having a daughter of 14, who herself has a daughter two years old. The patriarch of the flock is as active as any of the rest, especially in the solicitation of fees, taking whatever is offered him, from a bottle of beer to a piece of money; but he like beer the best. Most of them are very religious, belonging to  the Lutheran faith; but some have no religion at all; among others the king, who believes in nothing greater than himself. There is a small herd of reindeer in the enclosure, and these are fed and tended with care; for the reindeer is the main support of the Laplander, its flesh serving as food, and at times as his only food; its skin as clothing and for tents; its milk as a beverage and for cheese; its sinews for ropes; its hoofs for glue, and its bones for sledges and implements of the chase. The entire village is different from the rest, and together with the Eskimo colony and several others, forms a most interesting ethnological display.
Located for the most part at the western extremity of the plaisance are a number of attractions, some more or less valuable from an ethnological standpoint and others mainly of a commercial character. One of the most remarkable is the encampment of Bedouins, already briefly mentioned. It is popularly know as the Wild East show, and consists of a typical group of Arabs with their dromedaries and steeds, the men dressed in native costumes and armed with scimitars and spears. They parade along the avenue, chanting in discordant notes, and otherwise advertising themselves and their exhibits. Upon the fence of their encampment are crude paintings showing Arabian life in the desert, and within the enclosure Bedouins are living in their tents, with their wives and children, as they do at home. Here, also, the horsemen indulge in various games and contests of speed and arms, as with loud shouts they race around the course or run across it, ostensibly filled with all the emotions which possess them when ranging the desert. In close proximity to the Johore bungalow, already described, is a Brazilian concert and dance hall, in which the performers are somewhat gross looking Indian women. Elsewhere are several exhibits by North American natives.  In the Winnebago Indian village are not a few tasteful articles of native manufacture, and within another enclosure is said to be the original log cabin of Sitting Bull. Near by are what purport to be relics from the battle field where General Custer met his death, while purely or partially commercial in character are the Ice railway and the display of French mosaics and spun glass work. There are also such special attractions as the captive balloon, and the California ostrich farm, the latter harboring some 30 birds. In this vicinity, and at the western extremity of the plaisance are the Hungarian caf� and concert garden, and the grounds devoted to military encampments. The former contains a vaudeville stage, and on the roof are given the concerts which form a popular feature of the plaisance.
World's Fair Miscellany
From the opening of the Fair until its close, the amount of revenue derived from the concessions of Midway plaisance was over $4,000,000, while the Paris Exposition received only about one-sixth as much from all such sources. Cairo street led in popularity, the admissions exceeding 2,250,000. During the same period the Ferris wheel carried 1,500,000 passengers; into Hagenbeck's arena passed more than 2,000,000 persons; about 800,000 entered the gates of the German village; nearly as many visited Old Vienna, and more than 670,000 the Javanese village. Lady Aberdeen's exhibit of Irish industries was also a most popular feature of the plaisance, attracting during the Exposition season more than 550,000 visitors.
As to the Irish Industries association, represented in Lady Aberdeen's village, the following are some of the results accomplished during the seven or eight years of its existence, as stated in substance by the management. It has brought the cottage and home industries of Ireland into communication with a common centre, drawing public attention to these industries and to the excellence of their products, thus creating for them a reliable market. Depots for their sale have been established in Dublin, London, and other business centres, with the result that in 1892 many thousands of dollars were forwarded to the homes of Irish peasantry. Designs and instruction have been furnished free of cost, and the workers trained to business-like habits. Influential men of all political and religious creeds have united for the common purpose of bettering the condition of the peasantry, some serving on the council and others tendering their support and sympathy. Among them are Gladstone, Balfour, John Morley, Justin McCarthy, John Dillon,  Horace Plunkett, Lord Aberdeen, Lord Londonderry, Cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, and William J. Walsh, protestant archbishop of Dublin.
When the Donegal Irish village was formerly opened, its promoter, Mrs. Ernest Hart, who is also president of the Donegal industrial fund, was gratified by a demonstration of the good will entertained for such enterprises in the United States. A representative of Archbishop Feehan, accompanied by several Fair officials, including president Higinbotham, with many friends and spectators, passed through its ancient looking archway into the semblance of the historic ground of Ireland. As with Lady Aberdeen's village, a depot was opened in Chicago for the sale of its surplus stock, a large portion of which was sold during the progress of the Fair.
The visit of Lordmayor Shanks, of Dublin, to be further mentioned in connection with foreign exhibits was a notable occasion not only for Irish men and women, but for Fair pilgrims generally. Among the receptions accorded him, the one which occurred at Mrs. Hart's village was the most enjoyable. In a speech the mayor referred gracefully and feelingly to the work accomplished, and Judge Moran, another speaker, alluded to the fact that Mrs. Hart had expended more than $60,000 or its equivalent from her private fortune in promoting Irish industries.
It is said that the project for the Ferris wheel was suggested to its artificer at a banquet given by the director of works to the architects and engineers of the Exposition more than a year before the opening day. After commending the labors of the former, the director complained that the latter had fallen short of expectation, suggesting nothing novel or original for the Fair in the way of engineering science, such as was the Eiffel tower at the Paris Exposition. Taking to heart this rebuke to his profession, Ferris conceived and worked out his design for the wheel, presenting it with all the details to other engineers, by whom it was somewhat coldly received. Still her persisted, expending $25,000 on plans and specifications before he obtained his concession. Later a joint stock company was organized, with a capital of $600,000, of which more than $250,000 was expended on the wheel, the Fair managers receiving one-half the profits, which were very considerable.
By the Libby Glass company, whose exhibits are described in the text, was manufactured for Georgia Cayvan, the actress, a gown of spun glass, in appearance resembling grenadine, but of a brilliant satin-like surface. It is described as being made in the fashion of 1830, the skirt fitted closely to the hips and the gores outlined with a braided gimp of glass. At the foot there is a puff of glass, and over it a fall of chiffon covered with a gleaming glass fringe. The bodice is deeply Vandyked from the belt toward the shoulder, and between the points are puffs of chiffon narrowing toward the belt and broadening toward the top, where a fall of the former is covered with the glass fringes which finish the low cut neck. The hug puffed sleeves of the period are all of glass, draped in approved fashion and finished with fringes. The dress attracted the attention of the infanta Eulalia, who ordered a similar garment for herself.
The people of all nations made the season of the Fair one of betrothals and marriages. Several American couples were married on the Ferris wheel while it was in motion. In the Java village Mimi, a boy of some ten years of age, was united to Samaon, a little maiden somewhat his senior, the ceremonies being conducted according to Mohammedan rites. From the house of the bride groom being borne in a palanquin at its head. An aged priest blessed them in Malay, and pronounced the simple words from the koran which made them man and wife, all the native spectators repeating a prayer; and then the formal ceremonies were over. Afterward the procession escorted the couple to the groom's cottage, prettily decorated with flags and bunting, where the marriage feast was spread and the couple received the congratulations of their friends. Presently the party returned to the theatre, where the natives performed the marriage dance, a serenade completing the programme. The ceremonies attending the marriage of Ahmed, the donkey boy, and Nabitia, the flower girl, both familiar figures in the street of Cairo, extended over a week, during which period neither the bride nor groom were allowed to see one another. Ahmed was formally congratulated, the marriage contract was signed in the presence of the priest, and there was singing by the bride beneath the window of the bridegroom, and vice versa, after which the young wife, surrounded by the female relatives of the groom, was taken to the home of her spouse. Inspired perhaps by these marital events, a member of the Kabyles, a warlike tribe of Algeria, endeavored to seize upon a dancer with whom he had become enamored since their departure from their native land. He failed, however, to carry her away, on account of the cries of her female companions and the intervention of a Columbian guard, the over zealous lover being escorted to the nearest police station to answer for his violation of American laws.
Under the management of F. D. Millet, master of ceremonies, several popular features were introduced, tending to bring together the motley collection of people whose headquarters were in the plaisance, and to demonstrate to the public what a wonderful gathering was here. On the 17th of June, an international parade, some 2,000 strong, marched along the avenue and through the main portions of the Exposition grounds, followed by bipeds and quadrapeds from all portions of the earth. First came a delegation of men, women, and reindeer from the Lapland village, led by famed King Bull; then a squad of muscular amazons of the Dahomey settlement, with bare, scarred legs and suggestive weapons, singing a war song as they passed. Gorgeously attired in flowing robes of silk, long files of Chinamen were seen, bearing upon their shoulders a huge dragon, beating their gongs, and clashing their cymbals in competition with the huge drum of the Dahomeans. From the contingent of Algerians the shrill and excited cries of the dancing girls, who rode in rolling chairs, rose above the din of drum and clarionets. Then came a delegation from Cairo street, including camels and donkeys, soudanese and Nubians, swordsmen, clowns, and merchants. Dancing-girls of the Persian palace posed in carriages, and there were troops of Bedouins and Turks in picturesque costume, South Sea islanders clad in seaweed, and representatives of the International beauty show, not to mention animals attached to Hagenbeck's arena, and employees of such concessions as the Eiffel tower, the Libbey glass-works, the Irish villages, and the Ostrich farm.
Paul du Chaillu, the famous African traveller, was a frequent visitor to the Fair, and instinctively gravitated toward the plaisance. He spent much time in the Dahomey village, and made warm friends with the Samoans and other members of the South Sea settlement. On one occasion the latter formally entertained and feasted him, roasting a pig on hot stones and furnishing chickens, ducks, fish, and other viands, with kara for drink.
Most of the oriental employed on the plaisance took home with them a considerable sum of money; the Turks from $200 to $300, the dancing girls at least $500, and the donkey boys a larger amount. Of the last many had enough to purchase a camel or a number of donkeys on their return to Cairo, where they would probably start in business for themselves. Nearly all carried their funds in sovereigns or napoleans, exchanging therefor the silver which they received and hoarded until it amounted to a larger sum than they had ever seen before. They were experts on coin, it is said, and neither Turk nor Egyptian was ever know to accept a counterfeit piece, though some were deceived by counterfeit or confederate notes.
For the Arabian horse Aigme, exhibited in the Bedouin encampment, it is stated that $12,000 was offered and refused on his arrival in New York. He is said to be the fastest Arab steed that was ever brought to the United States.