But I sez, "You hain't much of a judge of halos, anyway. Mebby if you
should try to make a few halos you'd speak better of 'em."

I often think this in the presence of critics, mebby if they should lay
holt and paint a few picters, they wouldn't find fault with 'em so glib.
It looks real mean to me to see folks find so much fault with what they
can't do half so well themselves.

Then there wuz the wimmen at the tomb of the Christ. The door is open,
the Angel is begenin' for 'em to enter.

In the faces of them weepin', waitin' wimmen is depictered the very
height and depth of sorrow. You can't see the face of one on 'em, but
her poster gives the impression of absolute grief and loss.

The quiverin' lips seems formin' the words--"Farwell, farwell, best
beloved."

Deathless love shines through the eyes streamin' with tears.

In the British section there wuz one picter that struck such a deep blow
onto my heart that its strings hain't got over vibratin' still.

They send back some of them deep, thrillin' echoes every time I think
on't in the day-time or wake up in the night and think on't.

It wuz "Love and Death," and wuz painted by Mr. Watts, of London.

It showed a home where Love had made its sweet restin'-place--vines grew