Herald of the times. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1830-1846, 1836-11-03

Wh-ro fortune hath denied IT,
The shadows Of evening were beginning t,
creep darkly over the surrounding objects
ere Martin Werner laid down his brushes ant
palette. His easel was placed SO as TO catct
every ray of light from tho solitary window
that illuminated the room in which he sat-
He had been working all the day 10 finish his
picture, and it was with heavy sigh that he
now desisted. But the sigh was not Of des-
pair, for his nature was sanguine, and there
was buoysncy in his soul that had never
yet deserted him. This might have resulted
from the consciousness of genius that must,
either at q present or future time, find its
reward in the applause Of thousands: or it
might be only the light heartedness Of youth
and health But certainly, to look at himself
and his abode, most persons would have said
that Martin Werner had great cause for mel
ancholy. The apartment was large and cold.
but he consoled himself by saying that he
could not complain of having no room 10 work
in; and though the window would not open TO
admit air, as wellas the yellowish light by
which the painter worked, yet the draughts
poured in from every direction, which he said
kept up constant circulation Of fresh air.
No fire cast cheerful glow over the desolate
region, and the corner opposite to the empty
CRATE was occupied by lowly bed, beside
which stood large chest, containing the
painters wardrobe. Martin Werner had laid
aside his colors, and was carefully searching
for something that lay at the bottom Of his
chest. At length he dragged forth the object
and proceeded to the window to examine its
contents. 1t was a leatherr purse, and from
it lie drew, carefully wrapped in paper to
preserve its lustre, shining coin. In hap
pier hour he had been attracted by its bright
ness, and determined never to part with t:1
but now the hand of stern necessity was held
forth--be had tasted no food all day. He
gazed upon it, and, for moment, a tear dim
med his eye; for il recalled distinctly his
mother, in her distant home-his brothers,
tossed on the tickle and deceitfu waves-and
his sisters, even now perhaps, thinking how
their brothers pictures would be admired and
gazed at in the great city. The whole
course Of his life passed as in q dream before
him. Again he was in the cottage home
which had sheltered his infancy; again he
heard the shouts Of the happy urchins who
had been his ploymates; again ne wandered
from them and stood alone with nature, the
blue vault above and the lovely earth benenth;
he heard the gurgling Of thousand stream.
lets, the roar Of the distant ocean, the song of
the wild birds, and, high overhead, the lark.
TO him the sweetest songster of them all.
sending forth its notes distinct and clear
while the straining eye could scarce perceive
the motion Of its futtering wings. All the
haunts Of his boyhood passed, like the scenes
Of magic Lantern, before him, and, with
them, the train Of happy associations that
we're connected with ench individual spot.
Il cannot part with it" he said, uncon-
sciously, aloud; surely such dream Of hap
piness is worth starving for Besides, my
picture will be finished tomorrow, and can
wait tiiI then" aat
With this heroic resolution he replaced his
yessure, and folding his arms he stood at the
window, wbistling one Of the plaintive little
sirs Of his country. Groupe on groupe OF
;himneys. of oil shapes aud sizes, formed the