Neither black nor Afghan, Arab nor Malay (and
I know them all pretty well) can hold a candle to the Indian. All of
the other aboriginal types seem to be more or less distorted from the
model of perfect human form--as we know it--the blacks, thin-hipped,
with bulbous limbs, not well mark'd; the Arabs large-jointed, &c. But
I have seen many a young Indian as perfect in form and feature as a
Greek statue--very different from a Greek statue, of course, but as
satisfying to the artistic perceptions and demand.
"And the worst, or perhaps the best of it all is that it will require
an artist--and a good one--to record the real facts and impressions.
Ten thousand photographs would not have the value of one really finely
felt painting. Color is all-important. No one but an artist knows how
much. An Indian is only half an Indian without the blue-black hair and
the brilliant eyes shining out of the wonderful dusky ochre and rose
complexion."
SOME DIARY NOTES AT RANDOM
NEGRO SLAVES IN NEW YORK
I can myself almost remember negro slaves in New York State, as my
grandfather and great-grandfather (at West Hills, Suffolk county, New
York) own'd a number. The hard labor of the farm was mostly done by
them, and on the floor of the big kitchen, toward sundown, would be
squatting a circle of twelve or fourteen "pickaninnies," eating
their supper of pudding (Indian corn mush) and milk. A friend of my
grandfather, named Wortman, of Oyster Bay, died in 1810, leaving
ten slaves.
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