The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1873-10-16
THE ARTISTS STORY.

Ofyour thinking me sentimental fool,
1t is the thing TO laugh at love; to regard
courtship as an absurdity, designed by 6
slang phrase; to look upon wedding as
The death of young fellows freedom, aad
at best doubtful, aud certainly not G
lasting happiness, All this may be right
or wrong; | confess l know some married
people, and, what is more, | know young
fellows who owe their success in life to ihc
devotion of their wives and to their happy
homes But as for me, am aD iiustra-
ton Of the success of Disappointment, an
example of half broken hart being equal
to many whole one; il short, proof Of
the trirmpL Of fvork,
You do not share in the general opinion
of love? You think that married life IS
the highest form Of earthly bliss' God;
give me your hand! Then the young lady
whom you brought to the Academy On
vanishing day is to be Mrs, S. Nay,
don't look as if | found you out in some
piece Of lunacy. Nay you be happy, my
boy! Stir the fire; spring has way Of
coming 10 Of late years very cold and fros
ty. When | was boy the goddess was
less fckle. My memories of spring are
full of green leaves aud sunshine. II i
were not for the power of reproduction,
memory would be "a curse; but | turn it to
account. You will hardly believe it but
my fishing party is study from memory
Yes, sketchod the boat carefully for the
critics; that is oil, You know wha! they
are; they could have found fault with
the drawing Of The boat, the faint Of. inao.
curacy would have gone all through the
picture, and ruined it. That dark girl in
the gypsy hnt-Do model, assure yoa-
picture Of the past, drawing from mem
ory, face aud figure, a smile, sunbeam
of my youth, gloam from heaven that
hauuts this room many time and CIT
Ah! Ny dear boy, you little dream OF The
soflncss that lies beneath what men call
my big, burly, brusqne manner. BJjo7e.
Sir, l sometimes sit here with tears in my
eyes, when tliuk Of the days when that
fishing party was living reality for me.
| met her at a friends house on the
Thames was two and twenty; she sew
euteen. was an artist doing bits Of
studies in quiet uooks on the river. She
was the daughter ofa doctor in Russell
Square. Her father was poor. lie had
invested the savings Of q lifetime iu some
speculation tbatcame to grief | think it
vas bank. | was a struggling artist,
With an invalid mother to take care OF
Kate Woodward became my dream Of life
| fell in love with her desperately, would
have done anything, suffered anything for
her She soon reciprOcatcd my tender
feelings: that is, as far as she could. It
would have been impossible for any wo,
man to have given me love for love, Ny
passion scared toalmost ipossiblo heights
All our friends said we ycro well match
ed couple Kate was small ard dark, and
lively; was big bllking fellow, with
brown hair, aud somewhat dull, pblegm-
attic manner; but they never knew how
fercely the Gre burned behind my calm
dcmeanor. By Jove! Sir, | could have
set the Thames on fo II it had been neo-
essary. All! 1t was On Gre those days!
There are no sunsets now like the sunsets
through which ny beat glided on summer
evenings when Kate steored it, and ran it
for fun into the tall dusky rushcs, at some
out of the way bend Of the river where the
lilies looked up at her bright eyes.
Well, one day | got permission to call
uron her father and ask his consent 10 our
marriage. had visited twice at the
house, but Kate had many admirers, aud
DR.. Woodward had not, i suppose, MOTTO
cd that | held favored position among
them.
| was shown into the breakfast room.
One Of my sketches was hung upon the
wall. That was hopeful token | thought
| noticed the touch Of her hand here aud
there. A little vase Of flowers stood upon
a table near a cottage piano, upon which |
Enew she practiced. | touched the aow-
ers and felt happy. l can sec the room
:, E,