The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1870-06-16


/. pride 10 leave you a respectable il
come al my death"
r. I inclined nay head in silence, an
{. wondered what would come next.
: ''Burgomaster Won Gael i one o
!. nv oldest friends . said my father
Il have often heard you speak r
!, him sir, I replied.
"And she is rich"
L $50 should suppose"
}. Gertrude viii have fortune, sal,
my father, as if thinking aloud.
< I bowed again but this time rathei
neTvously.
! MARRY her, Franz"
| dropped his arm, and started back
5 "Sir % / faltered, 'T-I-marry tn,
Fraulein Won Gael?''
"And pray, sir, why not ?'' said my
father, curtly, stopping short in his
/ walk and leaning both hands upon
his walking stick.
"Why not, sir ?" repeated my faith
er, very energetically. "What wOulC
YOU wish for better? The young lady
!. ted, rich. Now, Franz, if / thought
you had been such a fool As to form
e any other attachment without"
NDil, SIT, you DO
cried. "Indeed, have done nothing
of the kind. But do you think that
that she would EaYe me ?n q,
"Try her, Franz" said my father,
good hnmOredly, AS he resumed my
arm. "If am not very much mis-
taken, BurgOmaster WOtlld be rs well
pleased ~ myself; and as for the
; fraulein-wOmen are easily Won"
We had by this time reached the
door Of the inn where my father was
to sleep for the night. As he left me,
his last words were:
"Try her, FranZ-try her."
a From this time i became frequent
visitor at the house of the BurgOmast-
er Won Gael. It was a large, old
fashioned mansion, built of red brick,
and situated upon the famous line of
houses known as the BOOmpjes. In
front lay tie river covered with mer-
chants vessels, from whose masts tiut-
tered the flags of all the trading na-
tions OF the world. Tall trees, thick
with foliage, lined the quay, and the
sunlight tlickered through the leaves
upon the spacious drawing rooms of
Gertrude's home.
Here, night after night, when the
studies of the day were over, used to
sit with her beside the open window,
watching the busy crowd beneath, the
rippling water, and the rising moon
that tipped the masts and city spires
with silver. Here We read together
from the pages of our favorite poets,
and counted the first pale stars that
trembled into light.
1t was a happy time. But there
came at last time still happier, when,
one still evening, as we sat alone, con-
versing in unfrequent whispers, and
listening to the beating of each 9TH
er's hearts, / told Gertrude that /
loved her; and she, in answer, laid
her fair head upon my shoulder with
a sweet confidence, as if so to rest for
ever. Just as my father had predict
ed, the Burgomaster readily sanction
ed our betrOthal, specifying but one
condition, and this was that our mar
riage should not take place till had
attained my twenty-fifth year. 1t
was long time to wait; but L
should by that time, perhaps, have
made a name in my profession. lin
tended soon to send picture to the
annual eXhibition-and who could
tell what 1 might not do in three
years, to show Gertrude how dearly
| loved her!
And SO our happy youth rolled on,
and the quaint old dial in Messer Won
Gaers tulip garden told the passage
of our golden hours. In the mean
time, l worked sedulOusly at my pic
ture. j labored upon. it all winter
and when spring time came sent it
in, with no small anxiety as to its
probable position upon the walls of
the gallery. 1t was a view in one of
the streets of Rotterdam. There were
the high old houses with their gables
and carved doorways, and the red
sunset glittering on the panes of the
upper windows; the canal flowing
down the centre of the street, the
white draw-bridge, with barge just
passing underneath, the green trees
deep in shadow, and the spire of the
church of st. Lawrence rising beyond
against the clear warm sky. When
it was quite finished, about to be sent |
away, even Hans Van ROOs nodded a |
cold encouragement and said that it |
deserved a good position. He had
himself prepared painting this year,
on a more ambitious scale and larger |
canvass than usual. 1t was sacred |
subject, and represented the cOnver- |
sion of st. Paul. His pupils admired |
it warmly and none more than my |
self. We all pronounced it to be his
masterpiece, and the artist was evil
IDENTIFY of our spinion.
The day of exhibition came at last. |
L had scarcely slept the previous
night, and the early morning found |
me, with a number of other students,
waiting impatiently before the yet |
unopened door. When arrived, it |
wanted an hour to the time, but half
a day seemed TO elapse before we
heard the heavy bolts give away in
side, and then forced our way through
the narrow barriers. had flown up
the staircase, and found myself in the
first room before remembered that /
should have purchased a catalogue at
the door. / had not patience, howev-
er, TO go back for it; so / strobe round
and round the room, looking eagerly
for my picture. 1t was nowhere to be
seen, and passed on to the next
Here my search was equally unsuc-
cessful.
at must be i'm the third rOOm," 1
said to myself, "where all the best
work are placed Well, if it be 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 bravely, it was
with a sinking heart / ventured in. /
could not really hope for a good plac e
the magnates Of the art
while i'm either of the other rooms
there had been a possibility that my
picture might receive a tOlerable posi-
ton.
The house had formerly been Il
mansion of a merchant of enormous
wealth, who had left il, with his val
liable collection paintings, to the
state. The third room had been his
reception chamber, and the space Ov-
er the magnificently carved chimney
was assigned as the place of honor, to
the best painting. T
The painter of this picture always
received costly prize, for which he
was likewise indebted TO the munifi-
cence of the founder. To this spot my
eyes were naturally turned as i enter
ed the door. Was / dreaming? /
stood still-I turned hot and cold by
turns-I ran forward. 1t was no IL
lusion. There was my picture, my
own picture, in its little modest frame,
installed in the chief place of the gal
leryl .5.
And there, too, was the official card
struck in the corner, with the words !
''Prize Painting printed upon it in ;
shining gold letters. ran down the
staircase and brought catalogue,
that my eyes might be gladdened by I
the Confirmation of this joy and
there, sure enough, was printed at the
annual Prize
Of Rotterdam. No. ]
Linden" l could have
wept for delight. l was never tired :
of looking at my picture. walked
from one side to the other, l retreat
ed, I advanced, / looked at it in every !
possible light, and forgot all but my
Il
IA very charming little painting,
sir,n said voice at my elbow.
1t is an elderly gentleman, with
gold spectacles and an umbrella. l /
colored up and said falteringly:
"Do you think sop i
"I do, sir" said the old gentleman.
II am an amateur am very fond
af nipfIIFoS nrpSIlma that Won aPa