Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1871-02-17
Gales and SketeIes.
THE PAINTERS DREAM.

That is good head, Clayton. 1t wants
little deeper tone about the background,
though, to throw it more out. An ideal
affair, suppose ?"
NO" replied John Clayton, 'the own
er of the studio, which was crowded with
models and numerous pictures OF various
stages of completion ''No it is por-
trait"
"a Portrait calculated the other, a
thick headed, carelessly attired disciple of
the brush. 1.-The deuce then the lady is
fortunate in regard to looks; the features
are perfection. fancy, old fellow, you
must have selected the most fattering of
you pencils when you took the likeness"
NO" said the young artist, as, leaning
his arms, his pallet in his hand, across his
knee, he gazed thoughtfully at the picture.
There is a strange story attached to
that head. Quincy"
:" 1t had better have been tale," laugh
ed his companion. But, come, out with
the story What is it? Is it of some fair
houri, who. after entrapping your heart,
proved false !"
mo; sketched that face from one /
saw in a dream-a dream!
Yes, it was while l was about my pic
ture of Helen of Troy. Well was rack
ing my brain to create a face that might
be something out of the common run of
painful beauties-a face with an expression
that would at once seize the eye and adj
miratioa of the beholder.
For hours and far into the night / had
sat before my eaesl, in vain, till at last l
fell asleep from sheer fatigue. l slept,
or rather appeared more to be in trance,
for, though resting, l felt conscious of my
quiescent state and the darkness about
me. as of one who closes his eyes at night
but still is conscious of the blackness
which surrounds him. How long re-
manned thus | cannot tell, when abruptly
the black veil before me was rent by a
| yellow light, in the midst of which | be-
held a strange group, the frame to it being
a country lane, that, despite the yellow
light, | had a consciousness of being very
dark. Under the arching trees were a
man and woman; the former, 4 slight
made, low looking fellow, with an ex-
preston upon his face of vindictive hate
and fierce passion was bending over the
woman, who half rested on the ground,
holding her wrist with one hand, while
the other was raised in the air clasping an
open knife.
In horror my eyes turned from the gleam-
ing knife to her who evidently was to be
his victim. She appeared scarcely twen-
ty, and seemed in dress and manner far
above the man. Her hair, a deep vene-
tian red, fell on her shoulders from her
face, which, thrown back in terror. dis
played fully to my view the swelling ivory
throat, the parted lips, and the violet eyes
distended in terror. | need not describe
the features; they are there. Well, as il
the cry knew the paid features were ut
tering had reached my ear, sprang for.
ward to the rescue, and was awakened by
falling heavily to the floor.
need scarcely say that | regarded the
vision merely as II phantasy OF a dream,
brought about by the one thought which
had tormented my brain for days. But
the few moments oblivion had served the
purpose of hours of reflection. | had the
face desired Yes; that of the woman
of my dream-slightly modified and de-
prived of the expression of horror-was
the one l had painted as Helen of Troy.
Yonder portrait, however, is the true like
ness
"And does your story end there ?" asked
the other.
"No; it is but half told As may be
imagined the vision did not easily quit my
thoughts. frequently recalled it when
delineating any more than an ordinarily
beautiful face; or when | came across a
pretty woman in society, then / always
found myself comparing her with the one
of my dream, ever in the latter's favor.
So nearly two years passed, when one
winters evening L was going to Cam
bridge by rail. The night was exceeding
ly cold, threatening snow, and, wrapped
up warm, was enjoying comfortable
doze, when | was aroused by the sound
of train approaching in the opposite di-
rection. With that lstless curiosity one
experiences when one has nothing else to
do, looked through the Window to see
it pass.
On it came with a pant and rush car
riage after carriage flashed by, revealing
their occupants seriously occupied, when,
suddenly my eyes cecountered those of a
lady. She was bending forward, watch
ing our train, and though all flashed by
like meteor, had yet recognised in her
the fac-simile Of my vision. The next in
Stant the carriages had rushed on, even
the sound of them scarcely reaching my
ears in the distance.
| found | had thought so much of the
lueal lace tnat Tell In love with tne real
one instanter. Yes, sinking back upon
the soft arms of the carriage, l felt con-
scious of this--so conscious, that before
many minutes, had resolved to get out
at the next station and go back towards
town, inquiring about the lady at every
place we stayed, to see if could trace
her. Madmen and lovers, you know, are,
in some instances. synonymous terms.
The time which elapsed before reaching
the station brought no change to my mind,
but, jumping out, fastened to the other
side-learned that the last train was not
an express, inquired when the next passed
and procured ticket accordingly.
had twenty minutes to wait, and while
pacing the platform--for was too restless
for the waiting roonl--I began to ponder
upon the strangeness, and u little upon the
absurdity Of my position, though the latter
never made me swelve one iota in my in.
tent.
l could but feel it was strange that
the beautiful ideal of my dream should
have a living representive, even to the