The Albany register. [volume] (Albany, Or.) 1868-18??, 1871-02-18
"A Freak of Fortune,

Samuel Duhobret was disciple of the
famous engraver, Albert Durer. admitted
into the art school out of charity. He was
employed IN painting signs and the coarse
tapestry then used in Germany. AS he
was about forty years of age, small, ueIv +
and humpbacked, he was the butt of ii I
jokes among his fellow pupils, and select
ed as special object of dislike by Mad
um Durer, who tormented the scholars
and domesties, as well as the master, by
her. Xantippical temper. Poor Duhobret |
had not a spice of malice in his heart, and
not only bore all his trials with patience,
eating without complaint the scanty crusts |
given him for dinner, while his compan |
ions Jared better, but always showed him
self ready to assist and serve those who |
scoffed at him.
His industry was indefatigable. He
came to his studies every morning at day.
break, and worked till sunset. During
three years he plodded thus, and said
nothing of the paintings he had produced
in his lonely chamber, by the light of his
lamp His bodily energies wasted away
under incessant toll No one cared
| enough for him to notice the feverish co.'s
or in his wrinkled check, or the increas-
ing meagleness of his misshapen frame.
No one observed that the poor pittance
set aside for his mid-day meal remain
ed untouched for several days. The
poor artist made his appearance as usual
and as meekly bore the gibes of the stu
dents or the taunts of lady, working with
the same untiring assiduity, though his
hands trembled and his eyes were often
suffused with tears.
One morning he was missing from the
scene of his labors, and, though jokes
were passed about his disappearance, no
one thought of going to his lodgings to
see if he were i'll or dead. He was, in
deed, Frustrated by the low fever that
had been lurking in his veins and sapping
his strength. He was half delirious, and
muttered wild, incoherent words, fancy
ing his bed surrounded by knocking de-
mons, taunting him with his inability to
call a priest to administer the words of
comfort that might smooth his passage to
, another world.
!, From exhausted slumbers he awoke
faint ard with parched lips it was the
fifth day he had lain in his cell neglected.
Feebly he stretched out his hand toward
the earthen pitcher, and found that it
, contained not drop Of water. Slowly
, and with difficulty he arose, for he knew
I
| of want. He had not kreutzer. He
. went to the other end of the room, took
, up the picture he had painted last, and
resolved to carry it to dealer, who might
, give him for it enough to furnish him
necessaries for week longer.
On his way he passed house, before
which there was a great crowd. There
) was to be sale, he learned, of many
specimens of art, collected during thirty
, years as an amateur. The wearied Du-
hobret thought he might here find a
market for his picture. He worked his
way through the crowd, dragged himself
, up the steps, and found the auctioneer,
busy little man holding handful of pa
pers, and inclined to be rough with the
lean, sailow hunchback, who 50 eagerly
implored his attention.
) ..N hat do you call your picture y he
J saked.
1T is view ofthe Abby of Newbourg,
r with the village and landscape" replied
t the trembling artist
| The auctioneer looked at him hemmed
contemptuously, and asked its price.
: "Whateyer you please whatever 1t
: will bring was the anxious reply.
esHem !" with an unfauorable criticism
1 ssI can promise you no more than three
t thalers.s'
Poor Duhobret had spent the nights of
many months on that piece. But he was
| starving, and the pittance offered would
5 buy him bread. He nodded to the auc-
E tioneer, aud retired to q corner.
7 After many paintings and engravlngs
! had been sold Duhobret's was exhibited.
"Who bids Three thalers. Who bids p
was the cry. The poor artist held his
: breath. No response was heard. Sup
! pose it should pot find purchaser He
dared not look up he thought everybody
was laughing at the folly of offering SO
, worthless piece at public sale. ct is
< certainly my best work !" he murmured
pitcously to himself He ventured to look
7 at the picture as the auctioneer held it in
7 favorable light There was certainly a
beautiful freshness in the foliage, trans
! parency in the water, a freedom and life
I Iii the animals. The steeple, the trees,
) the whole landscape, showed the genius
of an artist. Alas he felt the last thIob
I cf an artists vanity The dead silence
continued, and, turning away, he buried
his face in his hands.
, "Twenty-one thalers r faint voice
cried out The stupiied painter gave
start of joy, and looked to see who had
uttered those blessed words 1t was the
I picture dealer to whom he first ment to go.
.sFifty thalers y erIed the sonorous
voice of tall mar in black.
There was another silence.
) Gone hundred thalers !" at length cried
the pieture-dealer, evidently piqued and
| anxious.
"Two hundred r
D '.Three hundred =
"Four hundred"
"One thousand thalers."
Another profound silence, and the
crowd pressed around the two opponents,
who stood opposite each other, with flushed
, and angry faces.
) The tall stranger bid fifteen hundred