The Lancaster ledger. [volume] (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, 1856-10-08

into light.
1t was happy time. 3ut there came
at last a time still happier, when, one still!
evening rs we sat alone. conversipg in
untrequent whispers, and listening to the
beating OF each others hearts, told Ger
trude that loved her; and she, in an
swer, lad her head silently upon my
shoulder with sweet confidence, rs she
were content 20 rest SO forever. Just as
my father had predicted, the Burgomas-
ter showed every mark Of satisfaction, and
readily sanctioned our betrothal, specify
ing but one condition, and this was that
our marriage should not take place until |
was in my twenty fifth year. 1t was a
long time to wait; but should by that
time, perhaps. have made a name in my
profession. | intended soon TO send pic
ture to the annual exhibition-and who
could tell what might not do in three
years, to show Gertrude how much IIov-
ed her.
And so our happy youth rolled on, and
the quaint old dial in Messer Won Gael's
tulip garden told the passage Of our gold
en- hours. In the mean time worked
seduIously at my picture; labored upon
1t all the winter; and when spring time
came sent 1t in, with no small anxiety
as to Its probable position upon the walls
ot the gallery. 1t was view ia one of
The streets OF Rotterdam. There were the
high, old houses, with their gables, and
carven doorways, and the red sunse, gilt.
terlns on the bright, winking panes of the
upper wndo"s-the canal, flowing down
the centre OF the street, crossed by its
white draw awbridge, with a barge just pas.
sing undeinea,h-the green trees, spread.
ing long evening shadow across the vel
low paving Of the roadway, and the spire
OF The church cf st. Lawrence rising high
beyond, against the clear, warm sky
Whom 1t WAS quite finished, and about to
be sen: away, even Hans van Roose mol
ded cold encouragement, aud said tha,
It deserved good position. lie had HIM
self prepared painting this year, on a
more ambitious scale, and larger canvas
than usual. 1t was sacred subject, and
represented the Conversion Of St. Paul.
Ills pupils admired it warmly, and none
more than myself. We all pronounced il
TO be masterpiece, and the artist was
evidently Of our opinion.
The day Of exhibition came at last.
had scarcely slept the previous night; and
the early morning found me, with q mum.
Der of students, waiting impatiently before
the yet unopened door. When | arrived,
IT wanted an hour to the time; but half
the day seemed 10 elapse before we heard
the heavy bolts give way inside, and then
forced our way struggling through the
narrow barriers. had flown up the stair.
case, and found myself in the first room,
amid the bright walls Of paintings and
gilt frames. had forgotten TO purchase
a catalogue at the entrance, and had
not patience to go back for it; so strobe
round the apartment, looking eagerly for
my picture: il was nowhere to he seen,
so passed on to the next; here my search
was equally unsuccessful.
| "lt must be in the third room," | said
10 myself, "where all the best works are
placed. Well, il ii be hung ever so high,
or in ever SO dark a corner, it is, at all
events, an honor to have ones picture in
the third room!'
But though spoke so bravely, it was
with sinking heart ventured in.
could not really hope for good place
among the magnates Of the art; while in
either Of the other rooms, there had been
possibility that my picture might receive
a tolerable situation.
The house had formerly been the man
sion Of q merchant, Of enormous wealth,
who had left it, with his valuable collec.
tion OF paintings, for the purpose Of afford
ing encouragement TO Flemish art
The third rom had been his reception
chamber, and the sp.,- So the uaeenifi.
Gently carved chimney was assigned, as
the place Of honor, to the best painting
The painter Of this picture always received
a costly prize, for which he was likewise
indebted to the nuniiicence Of the founder.
To this spot my eyes were naturally turn
ed as entered the door. Was dream
ingi | stood still turned hot and
cold by turns-I ran forward. II was no
delusion There was my picture, my
own picture, in its little modest frame, in.
stalled in the chief place Of all the gale
yl And there, too, was the official card
stuck in the corner, with the words,
"Prize Painting" printed in shining gold
letters in the middle ran down the
staircase bought catalogue, that my
eyes might be gladdened by the confir-
nation ofthis joy; and there, sure enough
was printed at the commencement: " An
nual Prize Painting-View in Rotterdam
No. 127 -Frantz Linden" I could have
wept for delight. was never tired OF
looking at my picture: walked from
one side to the other--I retreated-I ad
vauce1 closer to it--I looked at !, in eve.
ry possible light and forgot all but my
happiness.
"a very charming little painting, sir, y
said voice at my elbow.
il was an elderly gentleman, with gold
spectaclcs, and an umbrella. colored
up, and said, falt<ringIy I" Do you think
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