Our Show / A Humorous Account of the International Exposition in Honor of the Centennial Anniversary of American Independence, from Inception to Completion, Including Description of Buildings, Biographies of Managers, Receptions of Foreign Dignitaries, Opening Ceremonies, Poem, Oration, Amusing Survey of All Departments, Incidents, Etc., Etc.

Amid this profound silence the Chaplain proceeded to inform the Lord for what purpose that great concourse of people was assembled.

He intimated that as “the earth was the Lord’s and the fulness thereof, and as the United States of America formed a part of the earth, and its citizens frequently gave evidence of the fulness thereof, it was eminently proper that He should not be kept in ignorance of its doings.”

He quoted freely from Scripture to convince his hearers that man was not all-powerful, but that, sooner or later, he must needs leave country, home, greenbacks, office, and corner lots behind him.

Alluding to the nations of olden time, he aired his classical learning. He informed his hearers that Greece and Rome were not now exactly what they had been, and mentioned likewise that Romulus and Mr. Julius Cæsar had both been dead for some time.

He also remarked upon several interesting historical facts of more modern date, which he seemed to think might possibly have slipped the memory of the angels,—namely: that a number of European countries were governed by potentates; that some of these had not been all that virtuous, peace-loving men could have wished them; that an assembly of individuals had pronounced freedom to be the prerogative of all mankind;—then, after commending Mr. Grant and his cabinet, Mr. Stokley and his city council, Mr. Goshorn and his associates, to the good graces of the heavenly host, he complimented that body on having the truest republic yet organized, and retired gracefully from the pulpit.

The orchestra of ten thousand selected musicians then executed Haydn’s magnificent “Oratorio of the Creation,” after which Mr. Ulysses S. Grant, who as President of the United States was chairman of the meeting, arose and made one of his powerful and eloquent addresses:—“Ladies and Gentlemen,” said he, “I hope I see you well. I am glad to see so many of you around me on this occasion. It is a very pleasant occasion. Like the century plant, it blooms but once in a hundred years. A good many of you, who I see around me on this occasion, will not be around when it comes around again. I thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for the manner in which you have received me, and I will make room for a longer winded man than me. I hope you will listen to him with attention. I thank you again, and hope you will all enjoy the exhibition. Allow me to introduce to you the orator of the day, selected by the Centennial Executive Committee.”

The building shook with the applause of the assembled multitude, and when the clamor had subsided, the orator began his address in a stirring appeal to

The Genius of Liberty.

“Ring out, ye bells, ye harbingers of liberty, ring out! The world is hushed to listen to your joyful pealings,—the heavens open and swallow up your golden sounds! From where the sun first breaks upon Columbia’s slopes to where the rain-drops thunder in supernal night,—where eagles screamTHE EAGLE
SHRIEKS. and dash their pinions ’gainst the crags and peaks which blaze in midday splendor,—where, rushing through the crimson sky, they swell the notes which drown the shrieking gale, and flashing arrows of electric light, piercing the groaning depths of chaos, echo beyond the shadow of eternal hills the cry of nature’s soul, the thrilling anthem—Liberty!

“It is our throne—the pedestal on which our building rests! a century agone its bed was hollowed out by pithy arms, now resting in the dust. Oh sturdy hearts! Oh honest hands! Beyond the boundaries of space and time, where Nature’s seedlings bud, and waters gather in a mighty deep, to thee, to thee we look through tears we dare not hide, and glimmering in the phosphorescent radiance of a holy past, we cry aloud, and loud the answer comes. The waves dash high, the breakers roar, the bright bow spans the clouds above, when lo, forth springs in brilliant splendor, our flag—the emblem of our dearest hopes,—our pride, forth springs in glorious purity, our flag,—the stars and stripes,—the flag of Adams and his son John Quincy.”

At this stage of the proceedings, four hundred ladies uttered a simultaneous scream and fainted. The gallant orator, descending from the rostrum, helped to carry and lay them upon the greensward without, where members of the Fire Department promptly saturated them with a portion of the Schuylkill River. Then, taking a hasty draught of Bowers’ Centennial Mead, the orator re-entered the hall and resumed his address. Not one of the audience had left—during the interim they had been nicely entertained by the Director General (always prepared for emergencies), who gave them a comic song and dance.

In resuming, the orator alluded to the Garden of Eden. He explained how the “S” became added to the name of Adam, and drew a pleasant word picture of the illustrious founder of his family in his fig-tree suit. He spoke for two hours in an interesting manner, and concluded.

The chorus then joined in the national anthem, “Pop goes the Weasel,” after which the

Poet of the Occasion,

LONGFELLOW.America’s sweetest singer, who touches with his gentle hand the heart-strings of the world, waking them to musical response as pure and truthful as his own blessed soul, stepped forward, and read his original poem, which will live forever, a mile-stone of the nation.

The people listened with rapt attention to the words of the honored bard. He seemed inspired; his voice was full, and each syllable he uttered reached every corner of the immense building. We caught the words and pinned them to our note-book in phonographic characters as they were given birth, and we reproduce them here complete and unabridged.

A Song in Two Voices.FOREVER
AND FOREVER.

This poem was telegraphed, word for word as spoken, to the “New York Herald,” appearing in that sheet next morning. From its columns it was copied, the week after, into the Philadelphia journals.

After the poem, Messrs. Arbuckle and Levy, the cornetists, played “Old Hundred.” It proved a great success, as it had never before been attempted—in a horn.

The Massachusetts gentleman selected for the honor, then read an essay by Thomas Jefferson, entitled

The Declaration of Independence.

This production was replete with witty sayings and wise aphorisms, doubtless very applicable to the time in which it was written, but somewhat obsolete and wanting in point at present. The soda-water fountain was much patronized during this portion of the ceremonies. AN APPRECIATIVE
PRESIDENT.General Grant sat it out, however, and mentioned afterwards that he considered it one of the finest things he had ever listened to. He inquired particularly concerning the author, and seemed disappointed when informed that he was dead. He would doubtless have enjoyed making Thomas a revenue inspector or an Indian commissioner.

Again the combined orchestra and chorus howled forth. This time it was “Paddle your own Canoe.”

Mr. L.Q.C. Lamar, of Mississippi,

Orator of the Day No. 2,

stepped forward. He remarked that as it was growing late he should not detain them long. At this, those favored ones to take part in the banquet concluding the ceremonies, brightened up wonderfully.

The orator then proceeded to say that this was the first centennial celebration in which he had taken part; he therefore hoped that any shortcoming might be overlooked in consideration of his quick going. He remarked that he came from where the Mississippi wound her silvery length through rich green fields, by thriving towns and mighty cities; that he was a native of the Sunny South, those happy realms where nightingales tuned harmonious song and alligators sported in their lukewarm baths. He mentioned that this was a great country, that the sun rose in the East and set in the West, and that while the snow-flakes fell and whitened all the northern plains, the orange bloomed and gentle breezes blessed the southern groves.

“We are but travellers here,” said he, pathetically, “and while we breathe the air and walk upon the earth, we have two duties which should command the energies of our minds, the strength of our arms, and the honor of our souls;—one, to our fathers, those who have gone before—the other to our children, those who have already come and those yet to come after.” Mr. Lamar did not exempt bachelors from the latter of these duties, but in eloquent language urged upon all the great mission of an American citizen.

The orator continued for three hours, and ’twas only when darkness fell and the chambermaid came in to light the gas, that he concluded; telling his spell-bound listeners, that, although he had much more to say, he would remember his promise to be brief, and postpone the remainder of his address until the next centennial, hoping that in the mean time they would ponder well upon the truths which he had uttered.

General Sherman here nudged the President, who had fallen into a gentle spell-bound doze, and who, awakening with a start, rose and said:—

“And now, by virtue of authority in me vested, I, Ulysses S. Grant, President of the United States of America, do declare this Exhibition open for the transaction of all such business as may be legally brought before it.—Amen.”

The musical fraction ended up with Beethoven’s Twelfth Mass, and “Little Brown Jug” for encore, and thus was the

International Exposition

inaugurated.

Through the courtesy of the Centennial Managers, we were supplied with copies of several odes, poems, essays, etc., forwarded to the committee by various distinguished authors of this and other countries, and rejected for reasons best known to the committee. Of these we cannot refrain from inserting a contribution from Lord Alfred Tennyson. It is in the shape of a two-act drama, entitled

“George W. Washington.”

It has been pronounced by competent judges to be equal to much that Shakspeare did not write. It has been translated into the celestial tongue, and will be produced during the next century at the Theatre Royal, Hong Kong. We understand that CLARA’S
NEXT ROLE.Miss Clara Morris is studying the role of G. W. Washington.

ACT FIRST.

SCENE—Winter Quarters at Valley Forge. The American Army sleeping on the left side of the stage. Delaware River flowing in the rear. Seven 42-pounders pointed towards the audience (to be discharged if they leave before the curtain falls). A full regiment of cavalry ready to issue R. I. E. Practicable window in flat.

Thomas Jones, a farmer, and Sambo, Washington’s servant, discovered.

Sambo.

Farmer Jones.

THE PLOT
THICKENS.

Sambo.

Farmer Jones.

Sambo.

Farmer Jones.

Sambo.

(Washington enters through window and listens.)

Farmer Jones.

Sambo.

Farmer Jones.

[All exit. Curtain falls.

ACT SECOND.

SCENE—State-House at Philadelphia. Continental Congress in session, John Hancock in the chair; representatives ground around; large concourse of citizens in the hall; the back window open, through which a view of Independence Square in flat. Procession passing with flags and banners, and band of music. A political meeting in the Square; also a few Indians lassooing buffalo. Eagle screams as curtain rises.

John Hancock. Ah!

Robert Morris.Indeed!!

Thomas Jefferson.Possible!!!

John Adams.Very remarkable!!!!

[Exit all the representatives except Benjamin Franklin.

GRAND
DENOUEMENT.

First Citizen. Shall we go too?

Second Citizen. Go to!

Third Citizen. For which we should be thankful.

[Exit all the citizens. Franklin alone.

Benjamin Franklin.

(Milkman sings without.)

Franklin.

(Enter Roger Sherman, Gerry, and George Whytte.)

Sherman.

(Chorus outside) [many voices]. “Washington forever!”

George Whytte.

(Shouts again) [many voices]. “Three cheers for Washington!”

Gerry.

Benjamin Franklin.

(They all kneel, and the orchestra strikes up “Yankee Doodle” as the curtain drops.)