The Shasta courier., 1863-07-04
The Unkn, YIN Painter.

Murillo, the celebrated artist of Seville.
often found upon the canvass of some one of
his pipils. sketches or experiments of drawing
imperfect and unfinished, but bearing the
rich impress of genius. They we're executed
during the night, and he was utterly una lie
To com jecture the author. One morning the
pupils had arrived before him and were group
ed before an easel, uttering explanations of
delighted surprise when Murrillo entered
His astonishment WAS quite equal to their
own on finding the unfinished head of the
Virgin, ofexquisite outline. with many touch
es of surprising beauty. lie appealed FIRST
to ole and then another of the young gentle
men. to see if they could lay claim to the
choice but mysterious production, but they
returned n sor"owful negative. He who
lett this tracery will one day be master of US
all. Sebastian" said he--a youthful slave
stood trembling lef re him" who occupies
this studio at night?'
. No o~e but myself, senor.'
We'll, take your station here to night.
and if you do not inform of the mysterious
vistant to this room, thirty lashes shall be
your reward on the morrow"
He bowed quite submissivelv and retired
That night he drew his mattress before the
easel, and slept soundly till the clock struck
three. lie then sprang from his couch, and
exclaimed, Three hours are nv own, the
rest are my masters p He then seized
pallet and took his seat at the frame. to
erase the work of the preceding nights. With
brush in hand, to make the oblivious stroke,
he paused: ''Oh those eyes," said he,
= they pierce me through the blood will
run from those purple veins | cannot.
o, cannot erase it! rather let me finish it,
He went to work and soon the slave, the
darkened brow, the child of toll and
suffering, are merged in youthful spirit,
rising from the impetus of his own deathless
energies into sphere Of liberty and bright
beauty.
a little coloring here, touch there, a
soft shade here - and thus three hours roll
ed unheeded by. % those beaming eyes
those lips they will speak and bless me ! my
beautiful''-a slight noise caused him to look
up. Murillo with his pupils stood around
the sunshine was peering brightly through
the easement, while yet the uncxtinguished
taper burned. Again he was slave, and
the spirit folded wings scarce seemed to fut-
ter. His eyes fell beneath their eager gaze.
q Who is your master, Sebastian?p
Your drawing master, | mean?''
g You. senQr.;|
~ have never given you lessons"
mo; but you gave these young gentle
men and | heard them"
Yes, you have done better-you have
profited by them. Does this boy deserve pun
ishment or reward, my dear pupils?'
: Reward, senor, !" was the quick response.
"What shall it DE ~
One suggested suit of clothes. another a
sum of money but no chord was touched in
the captiv's bosom. Another said
"The master feels kindly to day ask your
freedom, Sebastian.,'
lie sank on his klpe2s. and groan of an
guish burst from lin he lifted his burning
eyes to his masters face, :" the freedom of
my fatherl -
The death chill had passed from his heart
and he bTeathed. Mnrillo fnlded him to his
bosom. = Your PENCIL shows that you have
talent, your request that you have heart;
you are TO longer my sla:e but my son !
Happy Murilo | have not painted but made
painter r.