CONVENTIOJS^ — SECOSD HARVESTS. 
199 
then taken the best of each for this grand picture. The size (I 
■should judge) is the same as that of Farmer’s world-famous “ Slave 
Ship.” The colors are the same, and it is made up of sky and water, 
hut here all is subdued, the winds are hushed, and waters at rest; 
there is not even a breath of care or pain. The sun shines through 
the centre of the picture, as it does in the Slave Ship, and although 
we were at once reminded of it, how entirely different it is in every 
particular. The Slave Ship is a terrible combination of horrors. 
It is not a gloomy, dark picture, as one might suppose, but full of 
fierce, dazzling light and blinding colors. 
The storm is past, but the sea is still in a wild tumult, and the 
clouds torn and writhing. The forewater is full of ghastly bodies 
of slaves who were thrown over during the storm; their manacled 
iimbs protruding from the waves, and dim bodies showing from be¬ 
neath, as they are tossed and whirled about in the mad commotion. 
The fish, with horrible, gaping mouths, are darting and leaping 
from the water in ravenous haste to feast upon them, their irides¬ 
cent sides flashing blue, white and pink in the sun. It is a picture 
to smite in upon the brain, and once seen can never be forgotten; 
you feel as if it must have been painted by a man of insane fancy, 
but yet what “ method in his madness! ” 
In direct contrast is Moran’s Sunset. Instead of the floating hor¬ 
rors, we have a gay boatful of young men and maidens, with music 
and banners. lie has, too, so kindly chosen his point of observa- 
ition as to shut out a view of the Asylum, that refuge of the broken- 
bearted. He does not even leave us standing upon the high bank, 
but takes us down on to the opalescent bosom of Mendota into the 
heart of its splendor, where we float between two skies. How 
limpid and liquid is the water! The gulls hovering over the bay 
add to the solitude, and the distant sails carry the eye out into the 
pathway of the sun and among the reflections. What a wealth of 
color, and how exquisitely delicate are the subtle forms and tints 
that lie upon the translucent waters! From them the eye leaps to 
the dreamlike cloud-mountains and towers, up a shining pathway, 
where delicate vapors in endless variety show the touch of a master 
hand. Nature never makes two clouds alike, nor has Moran. His 
sky is full of infinity. Infinity must be various and vague, and the 
forms of these clouds are too mysterious to describe. With what 
loving reverence the artist must have gone to nature to be thus 
richly rewarded. 
