Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1853-11-09

,
mess, and having a finger IN any that would
amuse me without giving me care or res
possibility
II sprang from my seat as the engine
whistled. The baggage was checked and
would take care of itself. | was alone. So
as the cars dashed westward out Of the val
ley was already following the footsteps of
the stranger, up the gorge, which was so
narrow that knew there was no danger of
missing him.
"My determination was so sudden that
had formed no plan OF action, only resolv-
ing to know more of this curious incident
aud the actors in it. At length emerged
from the wood road, IN little open spot,
surrounded by hills, with beautiful south
ern exposure, which seemed 10 be sort Of
small Eden. 1t was filled with fruit trees,
and luxuriant garden, and all the beau
ties and delicacles of tasteful cottage
home. A small hut stood under the shad-
ow of few lofty trees, with bubolIng
spring in the midst of the green grass be-
fore the door. The sky seemed to love that
little spot, and bent over it all around and
very near to it. The sun never penetrated
those shades in summer, and the hills kept
off the winds IN winter. | paused TO ad-
mire the beauty the scene moment, and
then knocked at the door. "A clear, distinct
voice bade me enter, and ! obeyed.
"Seated in large chair. with his elbow
resting on a rude table, and his eyes shaded
by his hand sat the strange iruit-deaer.-
The furniture was rude, but elegant In its
rudeness. The walls were ornamented
with paintings Of startling force and beauty.
| was surprised, and, | confess it, embar-
rassed, but was in for story, and sat
down with some trifing phrase Of civility.
A few words suficed to explain that was
traveller, hunting scenery, accidentally
led TO that spot. But it was no go. He
remembered me, and in five minutes he
made me confess the truth. that had seen
the railroad incident, and wanted an eXpla-
nation
"'Well, like that said he. 1T was
cool and bold, and have not gotten over
my love for adventure yet, though am
growing old and am hermit and am called
a fool. You have made bold push for a
story, and you shall have it. But SIT down
and eat first, for it is dinner-time herea-
| bouts
ain five minutes we were at a table Gov
cred with fruits, bread and milk, in abuu-
dance and we dined heartily When we
| had finished and he had made me light my
cigar, he rose, crossed the room to large
chest, and took out from it large-slzed
miniature case, or perhaps should call it
small-sized cabinet picture. Placing 1t
before me so that the light of the single
window at my back fell on it with beau
tiful effect, he bade me look well at it, be-
fore he commenced his story. 1t was the
portrait of young and beautiful woman, Of
noble appearance. 1t might have been a
painters fancy of Helen, for she wore no
dress of modern times. was struck with
the eyes, they were so full OF life and frol-
ic and gayety. After had looked my fill
be restored it to its place.
al loved her, and lost her-that is my
story, briefly and fully. The old story
She was the daughter of wealthy house.
the poor artist. Month after month, year
after year,I had grown rich in the outpour-
ing sunshine of her eyes. | was admitted,
favored, petted. and was it strange that
was fool enough to believe was loved =
There were times when / had reason to
think so. But | will not blame her ne
yer have blamed her. She was good, no.
Bile, beautiful but she was in, and she was
of, the world, and schooed in all its lessons Of
what was proper and what was most desra-
BILE. 1t was not her fault that they made her
soul so cold in body so fitted to be loved.
1t was once different. In gay childhood may,
in later years, she had wealth OF pure warm
| feeling in her heart, and sometimes it gush-
ed out. But year after year it was repress-
ed till she mad command owe: it, and some
times thiak 1t was best so. She never low
ed me. thought she did, but was wrong,
and when the truth came in on me with
binding force it made me mad. That love
had been my life. You lawyers, who deal
IN constant excitement, IN the passions of
other men, and all whose lives are among
men, know nothing Of the life Of the artist.
Solitary and alone from sunrise 10 sunset,
he studies his own soul, and its treasured
images. One exquisite scene, one beauti-
full thought, lives for years in his BRAN and
is his mental food until it is exhausted, or
until another takes its place, and when that
one is so beloved that he neither looks for
nor desires another, then it becomes part
of his soul, his very being. 1t lends color
to his imagnatIons, it guides his pencil, 1t
pervades bis work. Go where he will, it
is the same one fixed star before his soul,
toward which, like the needle, it turns with
unerring ,immutabe affection. have Won
dered whether any woman has thought OF
what it is to be loved by an artist.
"'The change came. will not tell you
how, or when, or where. Enough that
looked once into her speaking face, once
into her deep fathomless eyes, and finding
there the cold, calm gaze ofcomplete world
Iy womanhood, went out from her pres
ence forever. will not rehearse the pain
that followed. Why, man, | had worship
ped nothing for years and years except that
growing, glorious beauty. The astrologer
who had named star and worshlpped it
night and morning for fourscore years, felt
not half the sense Of agony, when he saw
it vanish out of heaven, that then felt
And this was separate feeling from woun-
ded love. kept all that by itself. The
first great feeling was that had lost my
idol. And wandered up and down the
world, seeking another in vain. For years
| was rowing artist, never approaching a
city. AT length saw this glen, and liked
i:. bought this piece OF ground for a tri-
f, and built the hut. lived quietly and