ART AND SCIENCE IN THE MUSEUM 87 



great crowds of people who came to the exposition to see the 

 sights. The Joy Zone did not attract the largest number of people, 

 nor were the state exhibits in the buildings overcrowded. It was 

 the esthetic, the beautiful, the artistic, that caught and held the 

 masses. They strolled about the courts admiring the architecture, 

 the beautiful flowers, the colors, and the good music. Twenty, or 

 even fifteen years ago such conditions may not have existed, but 

 I believe that the average intelligent person who visited the great 

 exhibit will say that, aside from any special thing in which he 

 may have been interested, it was the whole exhibit in its artistic 

 aspect that made the most favorable impression. 



It is true that we cannot divide the public into those classes 

 which do, and those which do not, appreciate art. Among the 

 educated people we often find individuals who are entirely lack- 

 ing in this respect. This is particularly true of individuals who 

 have specialized along scientific lines. On the other hand, we oc- 

 casionally find, in the most common families, individuals who are 

 artistic and who, in so far as their opportunities admit, are ap- 

 preciative of art. 



The following experience convinces me that even the savage 

 may have latent in him some real esthetic instinct. At one time 

 it was my good fortune to know an old Indian guide named Pete. 

 One day I received a letter from a friend, asking me to see if I 

 could engage Pete as a guide for a hunting party, and with him 

 make a canoe trip of fifty miles and join the company. It was 

 on this occasion that I really got acquainted with Pete. The first 

 day was quite uneventful. Pete seldom talked. I remember my 

 pleasure in watching the graceful, rhythmic play of the guide's 

 muscles as our canoe glided along, the silence broken only by the 

 regular "put-put" of our paddle blades as they cut the water. 

 About sun-down we made camp at a sharp bend in the stream, 

 a site which afiforded an unusual view of nearly a mile of mirror- 

 like water, bordered on either side by the rich reds and yellows 

 of a Canadian autumn. As I sat by the camp-fire watching a flock 

 of loons swim past, leaving a tiny ripple that soon melted from 

 sight, and enjoying the beautiful picture, I happened to glance at 

 Pete. He was sitting on the end of a log smoking, and apparently 

 vacantly gazing- out over the same scene. "What you see, Pete?" 

 I asked. "Me like to see um nice woods, nice water, all same me 

 like to chase um deer, shoot um deer, eat um deer," was his 

 reply. I understood. Pete loved the esthetic, as well as the hunt 

 that meant a day's sport and a good square meal. 



