The Century World's Fair Book for Boys and Girls / Being the Adventures of Harry and Philip with Their Tutor, Mr. Douglass, at the World's Columbian Exposition

As has been said, Harry and Mr. Douglass set out for the Convent of Santa Maria de la Rábida, which means “Blessed Mary of the Frontier,” according to the wise men who write guide-books. Appropriately built upon a point of land, it was surrounded by green turf to the shore, where pointed rocks made an irregular wall. Even to one coming through the Court of Honor—an architectural display unequaled—the quiet little convent presented an aspect of quaint simplicity that was full of dignified repose. Its plain walls and low-pitched roof were relieved only by two features that broke the sky-line, a tower and a belfry. Probably its designers thought little or nothing of architectural beauty, and had attained their object when they had made an inclosed court surrounded by small rooms, with one or two large enough for a refectory and chapel.

Entering a narrow doorway at the back, Mr. Douglass and Harry found themselves in a large hall, which was no doubt the chapel of the original building. To their right was the place where the altar had stood, but in the model this inclosure contained pictures on the walls. They were very old, no doubt; but when a Columbian guard told an inquirer that they were “more than a thousand years, I guess,” Mr. Douglass and Harry concluded that the guard’s uniform was no guaranty of his knowledge.

In the front of this chancel was an easel sustaining a frame that protected the commission authorizing Christopher Columbus to go and see what he could find. A placard requested “gentlemen to remove their hats,” as Philip had said; but the American public had made up its mind to disregard this inscription. Mr. Douglass said to Harry, in a low tone, “I can see no reason for removing one’s hat to a piece of paper with ink on it. One can show a proper respect and appreciation for a relic without flunkeyism.” And Harry quite agreed with him.

The commission was a bit of brown parchment written in a crabbed hand, probably by some court copyist; and not even the signatures were intelligible. Moving onward through the crush of people, they came next to the west wall, where there was a glass case containing the rarest ancient treatises upon geographical matters. There were twenty or thirty in the case, some ornamented with woodcuts; but though Harry had come with the best of intentions to study the exhibits carefully, he could do nothing but gaze wonderingly at the type, saying to himself, “This is an old, old book. Columbus may have read it. Here’s another. What a queer picture!” At length he said to Mr. Douglass:

“What do you make of them, Mr. Douglass?”

“Very little, I must confess,” said the tutor. “One has to read such books to learn how much wheat there is amid the chaff of fable, folly, and guesswork. Even if I could read all the languages, I could get little from the two pages which are all they can show. All you can do now, Harry, is to get a good idea of what these old books and charts are like. Perhaps we can buy a catalogue which will give us translations of some parts of the books and of the letters that are also shown here.”

“What can one learn from these old books?” asked Harry. “Surely there is nothing in them that we don’t know about.”

“No, of course there isn’t,” said the tutor. “We can only take an interest in them as showing the beginning of events that have resulted so wonderfully. It is also true that now and then we find a sentence throwing light upon how men did things in old times. But it is rather as a matter of curiosity than of learning that these relics are studied.”

Upon the west wall was a very large painting showing the “Landing.” It represented Columbus, just after he had stepped ashore, raising his eyes upward in thanksgiving for his success. The men in the boat seemed to show curiosity and enjoyment rather than piety. The painting was not remarkable except that the expression upon the discoverer’s face was well rendered.

At the left of the picture the original anchor of the wrecked “Santa Maria” leaned against the wall. Both flukes were gone. Mr. Douglass felt a little doubtful of the genuineness of this relic, but was willing to be convinced. There seemed to be no proof that the anchor belonged to the old caravel; but, on the other hand, it was found where her anchor might have been, and it was pleasant to believe that it might be the very piece of iron upon which the hand of the discoverer had often rested.

Mr. Douglass asked a young man who was selling catalogues whether he hadn’t one telling just what letters and papers were in the building; but, to the tutor’s disappointment, the catalogues of the old manuscripts were all sold. There were a number of old paintings around the walls, but after examining a few, Mr. Douglass advised Harry not to waste much time over them, as their connection with Columbus was rather remote.

Going up the narrow stairway, they came out upon a corridor that looked upon the open court through graceful arches; and from this corridor opened small square rooms—originally the monks’ cells. The doors were as plain as possible, and each had a latch lifted by a string coming out through a hole in the door; the windows were small and square, embrasured, or sunk, into the thick walls.

Various relics were hung at every point, either along the corridor or in the cells. Many of them were queer drawings or paintings, meant to show the manners and customs of the Indians; others were charts and maps, some earlier than Columbus and others later.

At one place Harry suddenly stopped and pointed delightedly out of the little window.

“See!” he cried. “Isn’t that just right?”

Mr. Douglass turned, and gazing through the little opening saw the “Santa Maria” lying near the wharf opposite.

“It makes one feel as if he were back four hundred years,” said the tutor, quite as much delighted with this fortunate view as Harry was. “Looking through this little window, we see nothing of the crowd, and are all alone with the convent and the caravel.”

They were most interested in the “Columbus Room,” which occupied the place of the cell where lodged the monk who became interested in the man with a theory. There were dozens of portraits of Columbus, and they certainly gave one plenty of choice. Broad-faced, narrow-faced, round, oval, bearded, or smooth, the great discoverer might well have been puzzled to know which was his likeness. People’s remarks were droll enough.

One young woman who had been critically scrutinizing the array of “Columbuses, various,” finally stopped delightedly before a large portrait and exclaimed:

“Oh!—that’s more like him!”

Harry longed to ask how she knew that, but concluded it would get him into trouble. Harry himself had no choice. He felt just as another critical visitor did. This was a young man in a broad felt hat, who sailed around the room, and left with the parting remark:

“There isn’t one of them that looks alike!”

Mr. Douglass and Harry spent a long morning in the convent, but Harry wearied of it. He tried to be interested, for he wished to please his father; but he couldn’t find anything to take hold of in making a beginning. Still, by sitting quietly in the rooms and corridors, the boy, without realizing it, carried away a perfectly clear idea of the old convent, its arrangement, how Columbus must have been lodged and entertained, what the old documents were like, and how much modern maps differed from the rude charts of the Middle Ages.

He told Mr. Douglass that he couldn’t make much of it; but the tutor consoled him.

“You never know how much you have learned until long after you’ve studied and gone past a subject,” said Mr. Douglass. “Some day you’ll read more about this old building and its documents, and then you’ll find a peg to hang the knowledge upon. Have you ever seen a negro minstrel try to hang his hat on a wall where there is no hook?”

Harry laughed, and said he had.

“That is what people must do who have no general ideas to hang particular bits of information upon. Now, in this case you would be surprised to see how much you know about Columbus compared with what you knew before you came to this Fair. I won’t bother you now to review it; but some day, when we are studying again, I’ll let you note down the facts about Columbus that you learned at the World’s Fair.”

“Thank you,” said Harry, smiling.

“You’ll like to do it,” said Mr. Douglass. “You’ll see. Now let us take something a little simpler. I hear that the Cliff-Dwellers exhibit is really good. Suppose we go over there?”

Harry was very glad to agree, and they walked still further southward past the Anthropological Hall and the Forestry Building,—a most interesting place, where none of them had yet been,—and came to the curious imitation of a great cliff which gave room to the Cliff-Dwellers museum and models.

Here they found that there were guides to go about and explain the different parts of the show. They followed one of them for a while, but found that he talked so fast and paused so short a time in any place that they could hear and see little.

Starting out upon their own account, they looked first at models built into the sides of the imitation rock,—for they were inside a great structure dimly lighted, and looking like a great cavern,—showing that the “villages” were really a collection of rooms made by erecting walls from floor to roof of a cleft in the cliff.

Then they went into the museum, and saw relics of the strange people of whom little is known. Some believe there are no remnants of these Indian tribes of the Southwest. Others think the Pueblos are the same or a closely connected people.

There were in the cases bits of sandals woven of cord, cloth remnants, some as finely woven as canvas; bits of bones, scooped out into spoons or sharpened and faced for needles; bits of straw hats, large stone mortars for grinding corn, the corn itself in jars and corn-cobs, and even skeletons, skulls, and mummies in a fair state of preservation. The skulls were finely developed in front, but nearly all flattened at the back. The skull of a Cree Indian was set in the case, in order to show how much finer were the foreheads of the Cliff-Dwellers. Harry was especially pleased to find a little bear made out of pottery,—a tiny little thing that was probably a toy. He made a sketch of it.

Going into another part of the cavern-like structure, they saw some oil-paintings of the original rocks and dwellings from which these relics were taken. In yet another compartment were some of the donkeys used by the exploring party, and young girls and children took rides upon their backs.

Harry was standing just at the heels of one of these little gray beasts of burden when a gentleman of an inquiring turn of mind asked, “Does he kick?” at the same time pinching the donkey to see. Luckily for Harry, the donkey didn’t kick, or there might have been a new mummy added to the collection in the museum.

Another place was set apart for full-size models of the houses, and it was curious to see how the walls surrounded a sort of fireplace. The Cliff-Dwellers apparently slept in stone bunks cut in the rock, for there were several of these mineral sofas around the walls.

A path here and there led up out of the interior to the surface of the imitation cliff, and many people went clambering up and down these strange highways, clinging to ropes that had been fastened along the sides.

Now and then the lecturing guide would come near enough to let Mr. Douglass and Harry hear part of his explanation. He spoke of the deep wells that supplied the dwellers with water; of the narrow trails that made the settlements inaccessible to the hostile tribes that drove this people from the fertile plains up into these rocky forts; of the lamps and the cooking-utensils: but all at such lightning-express speed that Harry could find out nearly as much by examining the objects for himself.

When they came out, Harry was amused to see that even the turnstile was made of rough logs, to be in keeping with its surroundings.

As Mr. Douglass intended to go out to see a procession of boats in the evening, they went home early. On their way they passed the Alaskan totem-pole settlement, but concluded not to make their way through the press in order to get into the hut where souvenirs were on sale. At the Indian village they did succeed in making their way within doors, but found nothing to repay them for their trouble—merely the regular array of baskets, bows and arrows, and similar trifles.

Some North African booths, kept by people of the French colonies, offered for sale all sorts of little trinkets in brass and silver filigree or cheap enamel; but in spite of the continued cry, “Sheep, sheep; everyt’ing werry sheep!” the party kept on toward the outlet.

Reaching home, they found that Philip was already there. He was at the window, much amused over the doings of some of the negro waiters who, sitting around in the sunshine, were musically singing or talking over their experiences.

Philip displayed his photographs, and Harry showed the sketches he had made. But the party had ceased to be very talkative over the Fair.

“What I should like to see,” said Mr. Douglass, “is a fair from which all the ordinary, commonplace exhibits are excluded. Cans and boxes of ordinary merchandise, even if piled up in ornamental forms, are better suited to an agricultural county fair than to a World’s Exposition. A small, choice exposition, where every exhibit was unique of its kind, would be more manageable and much better worth seeing. This Chicago World’s Fair has in it the very best material the world can produce. But it would take two years to see it thoroughly, and no one man could understand it then.”

“I’ll tell you what I should like to see,” said Harry; “and that is a grand procession where people of the same States should be in ranks together. Then we should see how they differed.”

“And my idea,” added Philip, “is to have a Children’s Fair, where everything that is interesting to boys and girls should be on exhibition. That would be something like!”