The daily exchange. [volume] (Baltimore, Md.) 1858-1861, 1859-08-31

painter, Albert Durer's pupils, admitted into his
studio out OF pity, and in spite of his age and pow
erty for Samuel almost forty, and had no other
means of earning livelihood than that of painting
signs and house decorations-a kind of ornamental
ton then common in Germany Understood, bunch
backed, extremely ugly, and, moreover, stutter-
ing so badly, not to be able to pronounce
two syllables consecutively, it may easily be sup
posed that he the butt Of his fellow pupils and
that, whenever any practical joke was to be played
in the studio, it was always levelled at Samuel.
Jeered at by his comrades, tormented by his mas
ters wife, who could not forgive his being admitted
into the studio gratis, and having nothing for his
meals but black bread, land sometimes not even
that the poor fellow had no rest or comfort but
on the days when he could escape into the country
to paint some of the numerous beautiful views in
| the neighborhood of Nuremberg. Then he was not
like the same man. His downcast, melancholy look
passed entirely away, as he sat upon the grass, his
portfolio upon his knees, trying to catch some of
those admirable effects of light which he excelled
| IN reproducing. After spending the day in this
manner, he returned to Nuremberg; but he did not
mention in the studio his excursion of the day be-
fore, still less did he show the sketches he had
made.
Except the occasions of these visits to the
country, Samuel arrived at the studio every day
at dawn, and remained there until nightfal. He
| then returned to his garnet, and reproduced on
canvas the views which he had sketched in the
| country. To procure himself brushes and colors
he imposed upon himself the hardest privations
| Three years went on in this way without Sam
uSl having pclleIeu HIS pUslllOn IN the SMALLEST
degree, or either his master or his fellow pupils
being aware of the night labors which he had been
pursuing. Hew he succeeded in preserving him
self from death, considering the great priyations
he had to endure, is mystery.
One day, however, he fell ill; a violent fever
seized his withered frame, and for nearly week
he remained lying upon his pallet without any one
coming to take compassion on his sufferings. With
burning brain, and feeling that he was dying, aban-
dOned by all, he took a desperate resolution; he
rose, took under his the latest picture he had
painted, and staggered with it towards the shop of
broker, in the hope of selling it at any price, 1t
so happened that he had to pass in front of house
where great number of persons were assembled
lie found that sale by auction proceeding, the
property consisting of works of art, collected by
conotsseur with endless trouble during thirty years.
and, as usually happens, sold and disposed without
remorse, by the inheritors of his wealth after his
| death.
Samuel went up to of the auctioneers men,
and after great entreaty succeeded in persuad-
ing him to allow the picture which he carried
under his arm, to be pu5 up for sale with the other
works of art. The auctioneer estimated its value
at three thaers.
Good =! said Samuel to himself; :Etbat will buy
me food for at least a week-if | am fortunate
enough to find purchaser
The picture put up for sale, and passed from
hand to hand round the circle, while the monoton-
Gus voice of the auctioneer repeated:
| "Three thalers-going, for three thalers. Will
nobody make an advance on three thalers p
| Nobody answered.
ooh, heavenv' murmured poor Samuel; "nobody
| will buy it What is to become of me? And vet y
he added, at is my best work. have never done
| better. The air passes through the foliage of nv
| trees-any might say that the leaves move
rustic, and murmur. The water is lmpid-it is the
PregnitZ, beautiful, pure, and clear. There is life
in the animals coming down to quench their thirst
IN 1t. And in the background, what admirable
| view the Abbey of Newbourg with its belfry of
fretwork like lace and its elegant buildings! The
| Abbey of Newbourg whence the monks have been
driven out, and which, fear much, will soon
be demolished by its proprietor; for alas! what
will the good Lutheran be able to do with an abbey
| and belry ?'
twenty-five thalers," said a weak, dry voice.
which made Samuel start and almost supplied him
with Joy.
He raised himselfupon the tips of his toes to see
if possible who had pronounced those blessed
| words. Surprise 1t was the broker towards whose
| house Samuel had been making his way, when his
good angel had inspired him with the idea of getting
! his picture put up to auction.
t'Fifty thalers," cried loud voice.
| Samuel would willingly have embraced the big
man dressed in black, who uttered those two words
| "a hundred thalers," coughed the reedy little
| voice of the broker.
1t was instantly drowned by the voice of the big
| man, crying:
"Two hundred thalersr'
"Three hundred"
"Four hundred p
ga thousand thalers"
Along silence followed among the persons present
| who ranged themselves around the rival bidders
who stood facing each other like two combatants.
Samuel thought himself dreaming, aud uttered con-
| fused ordinations
"Two thousand thalers,'' said the broker, with
| short forced laugh.
"Ten thousand, cried the big man, his face get
| ting purple with rage.
"Twenty thousand cried the broker pale and
| feverish, clenching his hands, and swayng himself
| with convulsve movement.
| The big man, sweating and putting, beloved
| rather than cried:
| thola
| The broker hesitated, but the insolent and con-
queror-like look of his adversary provoked him,
and he murmured:
| ''Fiftv thousand
| A profound silence succeeded for, in his turn
| the big man hesitated.
| During all this time, what had become of Sam
uel? He had been endeavoring with all his strength
| to wake himself; for he said to himsef-"After
such dream, my misery will appear more horri.
ble.''
ga hundred thousand thaers," cried the big man.
"a hundred and twenty five thousand"
"The original for the copy, you internal broker,
! and may the devil seize you - cried the big man.
The broker got up and went away in pitiabe
condition, and the big man was victoriously carry
| ing of the picture, when he saw coming towards
him Samuel Duhobret hunchbacked, lame and
| ragged. The big man took him for beggar, and
would have passed him after having thrown him
small piece of money; but the hunchback said to
| him.
"When may 1 enter into possession of nv abbey.
my chateau, and my lands?-I am the painter of the
| picture"
The big man, who the Count of Dunkelsbach
and one of the richest Seigneurs in GERMANY was
not little surprised at the announcement made to
him by Samuel; but he drew portfolio from his
pocket and tore from it leaf, on which he wrote
| few lines, saying:-
"lIere, my friend, present this, and you will be
| put in possession of your property"
The poor painter still some time before he
felt quite sure that he was not under the deusive
influence of dream; but awakened at length he
took possession of his chateau, sold it, and deter
mined to live upon his means, only painting for
amusement. There is something of practical satire
in the finish of his le-he died of fit of indiges-
ton.
| How TO GIVE DINNER.-The English public are
| discussing with much gusto the art of dining and
two volumes on subjects connected with the table
have lately appeared at London From one we
quote its directions for dinner
"Let the number OF your guests never exceed
twelve, so that the conversation NAV constantly re-
main general. Let them be so collected that their
occupations different their tastes similar and
with such points of contact, that it is not necessary
to go through the odius form of introduction Let
your dining room be brilliantly lighted, your cloth
perfectly clean, and the temperature from SO to 69
degrees Fahrenheit. Let the men be clever without
presumption, the women amiable without conceit
Let your dishes be limited in number but each ex-
cellent, and your wine frst-rate. Let the former
vary from the most substantial to the most light;
and for the second, from the strongest to the most
perfumed. Let every thing be served quietly, with
out hurry hustle; dinner being the last business
of the day. Let your guests look upon themselves
as travellers who have arrived at the end of their
journey. Let the coffee be very hot, and the
liquors first quality. Let your drawing room be
spacious enough to allow game to be played if
desired, without interfering with those addicted to
chatting. Let the guests be retained by the pleas
ant company, and cheered with the hope that be-
fore the evening is over there is something good
still in store for them. Let the tea not be too
strong; the hot toast well buttered; and the punch
carefully mixed. Let no one leave before eleven,
but let every one be in bed by midnight
Ex-PREsIDENT PIERoE.-BosroN, August 27.-Ex-
President PIERCE who arrived to-day by the steam
err America, from Liverpool, was serenaded this
evening at the fremont House by his friends, and
in response made very eloquent and telling
speech. After alluding to the death of Mr. Choate,
he stated that the object of his visit to Europethe
restoration of the health of Mrs. Pierce-was par
TALLY accomplished. He then alluded to his graf
iication at being on New England soil once more,
and closed by enjoning upon all to appreciate the
great blessings which this country affords to her
citizens.