e. There is much crackling of fine
garments, a brilliant display of lorgnette, and this penetrating and
comprehensive royal critical dictum: "Isn't that interesting! So full of
feeling."

Two outstanding features, you mark, of art exhibitions everywhere are
here presented. Is any one who doesn't know what he is talking about at
art exhibitions (and which of us does?) properly equipped for attendance
there without this happy esoteric phrase "full of feeling"? It is safe,
or as safe as anything can be, to say about any picture. It graphically
indicates in the speaker delicate sensitivity and emotional
responsiveness to Art. And, most beneficently, it subtly evades anything
like the trying ordeal of an analysis of a work of art. It is, indeed,
invaluable.

The other thing is this: There is no place going which is so well adapted
to the exhibition of handsome, fashionable, or eccentric eye-glasses as
an art exhibition. You observe there all that is newest and classy in
glasses, and you are insistently invited to admiring study of the art of
wearing queer glasses effectively, and of taking them off, letting them
bound on their leash, doubling them up, opening them out, and putting
them on with a gesture.

The complimentary type to the storied Duchess at art exhibitions is
represented by yonder portly blood, in this case a replica of the late
King Edward. The fruitful spectacle of art exhibitions, I think,
presents nothing which gives one a more gratifying sense of their dignity
and of the imperial character of Art than the presence there of these
patently highly solvent, ruddy joweled, admirably tailored, and
impressively worldly looking connoisseurs of painting to be seen
scrutinising the pictures at close range, in a near-sighted way, and
rather grimly, as though somewhat sceptically appraising possibly dubious
merchandise.

Hello, there's Mr. Chase! And that's a fortunate thing, too, as no
sympathetic picture of a representative American art exhibition should
omit Mr. Chase. Whether or not we think of him as our premier painter,
we should be inordinately proud of him. Undoubtedly he is a great
artist. He has wrought himself in the grand manner. In person he
delights the eye, and satisfies the imagination. With his inevitable
top-hat, his heavy eye-glasses cord, his military moustaches and upward
pointing beard, his pouter-pigeon carriage, his glowing spats and his
boutonniere, his aroma of distinction,