Последний отзыв
Очень интересная!
По всем вопросам обращайтесь на: info@litportal.ru
(©) 2003-2024.
✖
Nobody
Настройки чтения
Размер шрифта
Высота строк
Поля
Dillwyn was saying.
"I don't know! I wish something could be done with them, to keep themfrom coming to the house. My cook turns away a dozen a day, some days."
"Those are not the poor I mean."
"They are poor enough."
"They are to a large extent pretenders. I mean the masses of solidpoverty which fill certain parts of the city – and not small partseither. It is no pretence there."
"I thought there were societies enough to look after them. I know I paymy share to keep up the societies. What are they doing?"
"Something, I suppose. As if a man should carry a watering-pot to
Vesuvius."
"What in the world has turned your attention that way? I pay mysubscriptions, and then I discharge the matter from my mind. It is thebusiness of the societies. What has set you to thinking about it?"
"Something I have seen, and something I have heard."
"What have you heard? Are you studying political economy? I did notknow you studied anything but art criticism."
"What do you do with your poor at Shampuashuh, Miss Madge?"
"We do not have any poor. That is, hardly any. There is nobody in thepoorhouse. A few – perhaps half a dozen – people, cannot quite supportthemselves. Check to your queen, Mr. Dillwyn."
"What do you do with them?"
"O, take care of them. It's very simple. They understand that wheneverthey are in absolute need of it, they can go to the store and get whatthey want."
"At whose expense?"
"O, there is a fund there for them. Some of the better-off people takecare of that."
"I should think that would be quite too simple," said Mrs. Wishart,"and extremely liable to abuse."
"It is never abused, though. Some of the people, those poor ones, willcome as near as possible to starving before they will apply foranything."
Mrs. Wishart remarked that Shampuashuh was altogether unlike all otherplaces she ever had heard of.
"Things at Shampuashuh are as they ought to be," Mr. Dillwyn said.
"Now, Mr. Dillwyn," cried Madge, "I will forgive you for taking myqueen, if you will answer a question for me. What is 'art criticism'?"
"Why, Madge, you know!" said Lois from her sofa corner.
"I do not admire ignorance so much as to pretend to it," Madgerejoined. "What is art criticism, Mr. Dillwyn?"
"What is art?"
"That is what I do not know!" said Madge, laughing. "I understandcriticism. It is the art that bothers me. I only know that it issomething as far from nature as possible."
"O Madge, Madge!" said Lois again; and Mr. Dillwyn laughed a little.
"On the contrary, Miss Madge. Your learning must be unlearnt. Art isreally so near to nature – Check! – that it consists in giving again thefacts and effects of nature in human language."
"Human language? That is, letters and words?"
"Those are the symbols of one language."
"What other is there?"
"Music – painting – architecture – I am afraid, Miss Madge, that ischeck-mate?"
"You said you had seen and heard something, Mr. Dillwyn," Mrs. Wishartnow began. "Do tell us what. I have neither seen nor heard anything inan age."
Mr. Dillwyn was setting the chessmen again.
"What I saw," he said, "was a silk necktie – or scarf – such as we wear.
What I heard, was the price paid for making it."
"Was there anything remarkable about the scarf?"
"Nothing whatever; except the aforesaid price."
"What was the price paid for making it?"
"Two cents."
"Who told you?"
"A friend of mine, who took me in on purpose that I might see and hear, what I have reported."
"Two cents, did you say? But that's no price!"
"So I thought."
"How many could a woman make in a day, Madge, of those silk scarfs?"
"I don't know – I suppose, a dozen."
"A dozen, I was told, is a fair day's work," Mr. Dillwyn said. "They domore, but it is by working on into the night."
"Good patience! Twenty-five cents for a hard day's work!" said Mrs.Wishart. "A dollar and a half a week! Where is bread to come from, tokeep them alive to do it?"
"Better die at once, I should say," echoed Madge.
"Many a one would be glad of that alternative, I doubt not," Mr.Dillwyn went on. "But there is perhaps an old mother to be taken careof, or a child or two to feed and bring up."
"I don't know! I wish something could be done with them, to keep themfrom coming to the house. My cook turns away a dozen a day, some days."
"Those are not the poor I mean."
"They are poor enough."
"They are to a large extent pretenders. I mean the masses of solidpoverty which fill certain parts of the city – and not small partseither. It is no pretence there."
"I thought there were societies enough to look after them. I know I paymy share to keep up the societies. What are they doing?"
"Something, I suppose. As if a man should carry a watering-pot to
Vesuvius."
"What in the world has turned your attention that way? I pay mysubscriptions, and then I discharge the matter from my mind. It is thebusiness of the societies. What has set you to thinking about it?"
"Something I have seen, and something I have heard."
"What have you heard? Are you studying political economy? I did notknow you studied anything but art criticism."
"What do you do with your poor at Shampuashuh, Miss Madge?"
"We do not have any poor. That is, hardly any. There is nobody in thepoorhouse. A few – perhaps half a dozen – people, cannot quite supportthemselves. Check to your queen, Mr. Dillwyn."
"What do you do with them?"
"O, take care of them. It's very simple. They understand that wheneverthey are in absolute need of it, they can go to the store and get whatthey want."
"At whose expense?"
"O, there is a fund there for them. Some of the better-off people takecare of that."
"I should think that would be quite too simple," said Mrs. Wishart,"and extremely liable to abuse."
"It is never abused, though. Some of the people, those poor ones, willcome as near as possible to starving before they will apply foranything."
Mrs. Wishart remarked that Shampuashuh was altogether unlike all otherplaces she ever had heard of.
"Things at Shampuashuh are as they ought to be," Mr. Dillwyn said.
"Now, Mr. Dillwyn," cried Madge, "I will forgive you for taking myqueen, if you will answer a question for me. What is 'art criticism'?"
"Why, Madge, you know!" said Lois from her sofa corner.
"I do not admire ignorance so much as to pretend to it," Madgerejoined. "What is art criticism, Mr. Dillwyn?"
"What is art?"
"That is what I do not know!" said Madge, laughing. "I understandcriticism. It is the art that bothers me. I only know that it issomething as far from nature as possible."
"O Madge, Madge!" said Lois again; and Mr. Dillwyn laughed a little.
"On the contrary, Miss Madge. Your learning must be unlearnt. Art isreally so near to nature – Check! – that it consists in giving again thefacts and effects of nature in human language."
"Human language? That is, letters and words?"
"Those are the symbols of one language."
"What other is there?"
"Music – painting – architecture – I am afraid, Miss Madge, that ischeck-mate?"
"You said you had seen and heard something, Mr. Dillwyn," Mrs. Wishartnow began. "Do tell us what. I have neither seen nor heard anything inan age."
Mr. Dillwyn was setting the chessmen again.
"What I saw," he said, "was a silk necktie – or scarf – such as we wear.
What I heard, was the price paid for making it."
"Was there anything remarkable about the scarf?"
"Nothing whatever; except the aforesaid price."
"What was the price paid for making it?"
"Two cents."
"Who told you?"
"A friend of mine, who took me in on purpose that I might see and hear, what I have reported."
"Two cents, did you say? But that's no price!"
"So I thought."
"How many could a woman make in a day, Madge, of those silk scarfs?"
"I don't know – I suppose, a dozen."
"A dozen, I was told, is a fair day's work," Mr. Dillwyn said. "They domore, but it is by working on into the night."
"Good patience! Twenty-five cents for a hard day's work!" said Mrs.Wishart. "A dollar and a half a week! Where is bread to come from, tokeep them alive to do it?"
"Better die at once, I should say," echoed Madge.
"Many a one would be glad of that alternative, I doubt not," Mr.Dillwyn went on. "But there is perhaps an old mother to be taken careof, or a child or two to feed and bring up."
Другие электронные книги автора Susan Warner
Последний отзыв
Очень интересная!