New Orleans daily crescent., 1860-10-22
MnriIln,H Lrrtsit Girl.

|
performances, in d moral sense. rich merchant
led the illnstious painter one day to the Market
place of Seville, and, pointing out to him young
girl of sixteen, of the Gipsey race, asked him TO
| do her portrait.
The Gipsey girl was so beautiful, and looked no
picturesque, in the midst OF the baskets fruit she
offering for sale that the painter did not hesi-
tate to accept the commission.
"H you can paint the picture In months
time,'' said the merchant, 'you may name your
4 own price for itn
| Murilo promised the portrait for the end Of the
| month, and asked a hundred golden Philips, which
| the merchant agreed to give.
Murillo glanced once more at the features and
form of his beautiful model, and then went to see
her relations, to ask their permission for the young
| girl to sit to him.
The gitana's relations consisted Of very bad
| looking man, who was her uncle, and of a very
4 good-looking man, in every sense of the word who
was her cousin. The artist talked with them for
| some time, and on taking leave of them, shook
| hands cordially with the cousin. To the uncle he
| was somewhat colder, for he Ind discovered that
1 he was a selfish and avaricious man.
Murillo had sitting. the very next day, and the
| first stroke of his brush already announced mas
ter-piece, when the merchant entered his studio.
| " The head will be admirable,'' said the pur-
| chaser, in a hafpatronising tone.
| 81 am glad it pleases you replied Murillo, "par-
| ticulariy as have made up my mind to ask you
! rather more than the sum originally namedf'
- But told you to mention your own price, u ex.
| postulated the merchant. Yon said hundred
|
think you ought to demand more than that amount
| now"
| am very sorry,n said Murillo, but find that
twill be impossible to let you have the picture for
less than six hundred, II you do not like to give
| so much, there has not been much time lost yet,
| and you will be able to get some other artist to
ecute the commission; but really shall be obliged
to give it up, unless you afford to remunerate
| me for my trouble.'
] Gas for affording it 2 returned the merchant,
you know that am not poor, but the sum is
large one, After all, will not dispute with you
| about five hundred Philips. 1t s great deal for
you to receive, but it is not much for to gve.n
View the matter as you please, said Mnrillo,s
extraordinarily only let me have the money.
| That is all ! stipulate for.''
| you shall have the six hundred,' said the mer-
1 chant, with something like sigh. 81 will sign an
agreement for that amount with you this evening"
! why not at !, oncem suggested Murillo, 4 since
"Who Knows answered the merchant; aper-
haps this evening you viii be more reasonable in
| your demands
""oh, you not decided thenn said the
| painter.
eyes, l am decided" replied the purchaser.
but prefer not to sign any agreement until this
| evening"
In the evening Murllo informed the merchant
gravely and coldly, that he could not accept six
| hundred Philips, but that he must have thousand
| or course the merchant refused, point blank, in
\ the first instance. Then he hesated, offered
| seven, eight, nine hundred and at last agreed to
| give the full thousand. This time formal agree.
| ment was signed.
At the end of the month the portrait was flushed
| When the merchant came to take it away, he found
the original standing before it in full dress as If on
the point of starting for some fete. By her side
were her uncle and cousin, who had evidently got
| himself up for some very important occasion.
The merchant paid the thousand Philips.
| As soon as Murio had received the money and
| put it away carefully in portfolio, he opened
sidedoor in his atelier, and from the adjoining
| chamber entered priest and two Witnesses
| The merchant thought he must be dreaming.
Sir said Murillo, at length, ''w while you were
| bargaining with me about the portrait of this
| young girl, you were bargaining with her relations
| for the young girl herself, whom you had already
sold to pirate to be carried into slavery. You
need not deny it; your protestations would be in
vain, for heard all that was going on from the
cousin. The uncle thought at last that he had bet
ter accept my offer than yours, and, the yonng
! people were already betrothed to one another /
| thought it would be good idea to marry them
| and make you pay the dowry.
You know now what am going to do with the
thousand Philips The uncle would not hear of the
| match being arranged for a hundred, and wanted
| six. If you had signed the agreement for six
| hundred when proposed it at first, you might
| still have gained the day but Providence was on
my side and made You blind. You went to the
uncle and finding, as you thought, that he had re-
| ceived some higher bid for the poor child, who
was to be sacrificed through you to pirate, and
| through this pirate to Turkish Pasha, you in
creased your offer to the avaricions guardian, who
is standing there coolly at the present moment
possibility OF recall.
As the uncle had now the prospect Of getting a
| larger sum than he had originally expected from
YOU he explained to me that it would not answer
his purpose to behave like an honest man unless T.
in my turn, increased my offer. This, through
your berality, | was enabled to do and, at last,
without telling you of his intention he resolved to
reject your proposition and to accept mine. Here
is the priest; here are the witnesses; imagine, if
you can, that you represent the friend and all will
be complete | have deprived you Of the model,
but yon will still have the portrait. Send 1t to the
Pasha, if you think he would like it,
The marriage was celebrated without further de-
lay, but notin the presence Of the merchant, who,
mystified and mortified as he was, lost no time in
effeeting his escape.
The day afterwards, the proprietor Of the picture
sold it for half its original price, If he had lived
in the present century he could have gained hun
dred per cent by the speculation-supposing that
he had paid for the picture in proportion to the
artistic talent it displayed with reference to the
greatness Of soul evinced by the painter, which
renders Murillo's young FrutGirl almost inval-
liable,
QUEEN MARY's TIME.-Martial law was proclaim
ed through Cornwall and Devonshre, and the gib-
bet did its business freely, although in the latter
county care was taken to distinguish the really
guilty. In Cornwall, if we may believe the legends
Of the next generation, Sir Anthony Kingston, who
went as provost marshall was not SO scrupulous.
A story was told of a miller who had been out with
Arundel, and expecting inquiry, had persuaded O.
servant to take his place and name.
"Are you the miller?n said Kingston, on riding
one day to his door.
of you please. yes,' was the unsuspecting
answer.
"Up with him. said the proyost-marshal, che is
busy knaye hang him up"
In vain then the poor man called out that he
was no miller, but an innocent servant
etThou art false knave, then, said Sir Anthony,
to be in two tales. therefore hang him.
And he was hanged incoptnently.
The Mayor of Bodmin had been among the first
to move his name was Joined to Arunders in the
rebels articles but his friends had interceded for
him, and he had hoped for pardon. Kingston
visited Bodmin in his progress, and sent the Mayor
notice that he would dine with him. He had a
man to hang too, he said, and stout gallows must
be ready. The dinner was duly eaten, and the
gallows prepared.
s'Think you,n said Kingston, as they stood look
ing at it, j" think you it is strong enough?
nYes, sir, quoth the Mayor, q it s.'
"Well, then" said Sir Anthony, :" get you up,
forit is for you"
The Mayor, greatly abashed exclaimed and pro-
| tested.
"sir,' said Kingston, there is no remedy; ye
have been a busy rebel and this is appointed for
your reward.n
And so, without respite or stay, the Mayor was
hanged, [J. A. Froude.
| --e> S---
h The English writers are discussing the origin of
Maeaulay's figure of the Z" noble savage,h who, in
| N ;-4, rit, tIa hrnIr nf Ian1 1au