Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1872-03-21
THE RECORD OF A SILENT MAN
BY MARIA R. Oakley.

sooner than my friends expected me,
and | always thought that this account
ed for my never being quite old enough
for the world.
l was always at disadvantage, though
am not a stupid man. Ny wife saws
am not, and she surely should know,
who sees so much of me.
Ny very talents seemed always in the
way. My perception of things made
me always seem stupider than I was;
for | was oVerpowered and made silent
by all | felt. | was forever misunder-
stood in those desolate days when l was
a bachelor and alone. Now Molly ex-
plains me, and everybody understands
her.
But how l anticipated am confus-
ing you by speaking of things that came
after, before telling you what came first.
Molly wouldn't do so.
Well, [ will tell you what came first.
First came narrow, dirty street, and a
doorway with little black signs at the
side of it, setting forth in gold letters
the various names of the occupants of
the various floors of the house and their
various occupations. NY name was
there. Then came four long flights of
dirty stairs, and then came door with
little black sign on it, and on the sign
some gold Letters that spelled "Joseph
Burrows. Artist"
Joseph Burrows IS my name. The
little sign proclaimed me an artist.
never could get quite used to it, and
wanted to scratch over the word artist,
art student. But that wouldn't have
looked as well, you know. And people
used to call me what the sign unblush-
inglY proclaimed
Next came the studio inside the door.
where all sorts of odds and ends. dra.
perry. and other bric-a-brac hung about
the room in the midst of easels and
sketches.
A huge, full-length portrait stood
halt-finished on one easel, and little
painting of wild roses on another by its
side.
One morning a gentleman came into
my studio, and gave me the order to
pant the great big portrait of himself.
| had often painted full-length figure
for fancy picture, but never portrait.
You see, portrait was different, because
the original had to be pleased. | was
staggered at the thought. | had found
1t quite hard enough to please man
with portrait of his own face, but to
attempt to please him with a portrait of
his own legs Really, it was too much.
| couldn't, l wouldn't paint it WHY
didn't | say so then? There | stood
quite silent, with the gentleman con.
fronting me. He was very tall. What
a long canvas he would take! My heart
sank into my boots.
Not very busy now?' said the gen
tleman. | shook my head. "Begin
next week then ?'' Ny breath left me.
Very well, then, next week. Monday
suit you? Monday, at ten ?"
Monday" / said as one in a dream.
He took a check out Of his pocket-book,
sat down at my secretary ian old carved
one, | had bought at curiosity shop),
and filed up the check, saying, II sup
pose you'd rather L d begin so,'' and left
me standing with his check in my hand,
as he slammed my studio door and ran
down stairs.
had wild idea of rushing after him
and stopping him, giving him back his
check, and telling him that couldn't
paint his picture. 1t was of no use; he
had gone. | didn't even know his adj
dress. He had come in unasked, unex-
pected, talked fast, and slammed my
door; spoilt my days work, disturbed
my mood, and bound me over to his
will by this check held in my hand;
and, worst of all, he probably imagined
he mad done me favor.
Why! L ought to be glad. Here was
FIVE hundred dollars, to be had by walk
ing into bank and showing this scrap
of paper. But wasn't glad. WANTED
to paint my wild roses for a present, if
| could make up my mind to give it to
my distant cousin Molly, the delight of
my heart, my constant dream; only
had never told her so.
put the check away in a drawer of
the secretary, and went out to lunch.
IL was not until was going home at
dusk that l made up my mind to go
into the color-man's Is, to order my huge
canvas. l was aware that l looked
apologize, and gave the order in very
subdued tone: 9 Six feet six by three
feet SIX
care you going to paint a mantel-
piece, Mr.. Burrows p said the color
man and 1 knew he was laughing in
his sleeve.
The next morning / was at work on
my wild-roses, forgetting my coming
troubles, when there came rap on the
door--a most impertinent, obvious, dis
composing knock.
hknew it was the canvas, and went
to let it in, glancing furtively up and
down the entry, to see if any other
studic-door was open for the inmate to
look out and say Why what's all
that canvas going to do with Burrows?'
Again my morning was spoilt. |
couldn't work on my roses with that
great thing in the room. Iput it in my
closet, but it proved to be only a skele-
ton there. / took it out and again and
set it on an easel. 1t was whole foot
taller than myself. How ridiculous | 1
Should paint on step-ladder? What
business had men to be six feet; OF, if |
they were, why did they come to me to
have their portraits painted? 1 sat