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WORKING SONG OF A COUNTRY WOMAN
rative, and even in the portrait, work of those painters who claim to
represent "the turbulent art spirit that is now bursting through all
bonds in vigorous young Germany." The trouble is that a vigorous
and sincere spirit never expresses itself in this way, and if this exhibi-
tion speaks the truth, every struggle of modern German art toward the
coveted freedom and originality only carries it farther from the honest
simplcity that appears in the examples shown of the art of a former
day. Whether excrescences such as the more exaggerated examples
of Stuck and the amazing decorative pieces of Er er and Hofmann
merely represent a phase of growth similar to the knees-and-elbows
of boyhood, or whether they are the ephemeral expression of a pass-
ing extravagance of spirit, remains to be seen. At all events, this
new art gives at least the impression of being very insincere and
theatrical painting, so that we are glad to turn from it to the most
unimaginative pictorial records of an honester Germany.
   It is said that Mr. Reisinger's plan is to follow up the exhibition
in this country of German art by taking a similar exhibition of con-
temporary American pictures to Berlin next summer. If he does, it
will beinteresting to hear what the Germans think of it.
WORKING SONG OF A COUNTRY WOMAN
       HE linen's blowing in the sun,
             The orchard's all a-bloom
             The step is white, the bread is light,
       And garnished every room.
       Then sing, sing, sing,
       While the goodly bread I knead.
       The world is wide; on every side
       There's a-many mouths to feed.
       The sun-bleached linen's gathered in,
       The cows wait in the lane;
       The evening falls, the night-bird calls,
       And my man is home again.
       Then sing, sing, sing,
       While the snow-white cloth I spread.
       The sun sets clear; there is naught to fear
       With our Father overhead.
                                        ELIZABETH BLANDIN.
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