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as that which buys his works at a price in the shambles ? Yet 

 even this is not all my argument. I look out on the innu- 

 merable scenes of the country and the farmstead, full of 

 beauty and significant of all that is lovely, and I say if the 

 undevout astronomer is mad, what shall be said of the unar- 

 tistic farmer ? I know the yeoman is not blest with much 

 leisure for the study of Raffaelle or Mendelssohn ; he is not 

 very familiar with the dialect of Tennyson, or of the sculp- 

 tor's modelling-room ; but he as well as any one, nay, better, 

 can and does appreciate the sublime truth, that art is, rightly, 

 only the visible expression of beauty, and that beauty is a 

 high gift of God, which let no man despise. 



It is the most cruel uncharity to assume that the heart of 

 the husbandman is hard against the loveliness of art. I have 

 been among such all my life, and know better. I heard a 

 wealthy manufacturer say that he had been in the famous 

 gallery at Dresden, but whether he saw the Sistine Madonna 

 he was not sure, for it rained, and he was looking after his 

 umbrella ! I do not believe any farmer of Essex would have 

 missed that picture, though some might have gaped a very 

 little while they admired it. For who of all our people seize 

 most greedily upon all such refinements when avaihible, if not 

 these? Who likes best to improve his place and make a 

 graceful drive up from the highway to its door? Who will 

 try to set his trees to the best advantage, and dispose his 

 flower beds well before the house, for the finest effect of the 

 posies that grow there, and of the matron and maidens that 

 tend them? Who buys a good picture when he can, and a 

 handsome book often, and is even willing to dare to look on 

 a premium chromo, rather than have nothing of the kind? 

 Take your fine performers and go among the farms of New 

 England with a choice entertainment. You will bring to your 



