Connecticut western news., 1874-02-27

ness. Yet I usually-with obstinat' toll and severe persistency-get thing right at last.
 My friends had quick eyes and dex terous hands-they sketched with sur prising facility and vivid effect. Al phonse, as I will call him, was in his wa, especially gifted. He could design a deftly as he could twist up cigarette or twist the end of his mustache int, pin-points. A few movements of hi pencil and the thing was done. Mucl more than this I think he could not ac complish. He was true to his origin he was of a nation of sketchers--grea at beginning, leaving completeness ant achievement to others-the German let us say.
 He grinned wiokedly, scoffingly at m. picture.
 "My poor Hans," said an English man, kindly-he has grown famous since, am glay to say, for he was { true artist" this will not do. Tur1 Minna Won Barnhelm to the wall. That's my advice. Paint something smaller simpler, or you will stand no chance with the dealers"
 When we were alone, he proffered me help from his purse-though it was but poorly furnished, and he was, I knew in debt. I would not t,,borrow of him but thanked him till my voice failed me, and could not see for my tears.
 had by this time quite pack oi pawn tickets. was subsisting, like 6 moth, on my clothes. A coat lasted me week, waistcoat three days, and SC on. But soon I should have nothing more to pledge; and then?
 was very miserable. I could sec suspicion and mistrust on the face o1 my landlady, printed in deeper and plainer lines every day. She was afraid of losing her rent. She told me must give up my garret, and find another home. Where? In the street-or the Thames? ?
 tried to live on as little as possible. I went out every day for an hour or so, that my landlady might think I was dining. walked hither and thither, in retired streets, furtively devourine 0 penny loaf of bread-it was all could afford. Then I returned, effecting a light step, singing or whistling, with the air of one refreshed and in good spirits. But was an indifferent actor. Was she duped, that landlady, I won- der? Perhaps. My stomach was not, I know. There was no deceiving that.
 What comfort was left me |? Only my pipe and my love for Frederick. And presently my pipe had to go-round the corner. My love, not being nego- tiable, alone remained.
 I tried to paint-something, any, thing, @ sketch, a study, that would bring money to buy food with. My English friend set up an easel for me in his studio. He had models coming to him ; surely could do something with them? Here was Mulatto, of superb contour, muscular, sinewy, nobly pro- portioned, Hercules in bronze. Here a lovely English girl, a bouquet of bright colors, roses and lilies, violets and gold. Here Spanish gipsy, with blue-black hair, flashing eyes, ivory teeth, and cheeks like russet apples, flushed with sunset.
 It was in vain. My heavy heart weighed down my hand. It was duller, more awkward, and inert than ever. ] could do nothing.
 I retreated to my garret. I flung myself upon my truckle bed not to sleep, but to torture myself with fears, memories, dreams, my head burning, my brain disordered.
 Dusk came. and then night. The moon-rays flooded the room, to fade gradually into the yellow twilight oi the morning. Another day was dawn. ing to find me more wretched and for lorn and destitute than ever. I could not rise. I lay upon my bed, dressed as I was, hinking-thinking- a con. fused, fevered way; not of the future I did not dare do that-but of the past and the miserable, most miserable pres ent. And, now and then, the name oi Frederick broke from my lips.
 Suddenly there came the sound oi some one moving in my studio. start ed-I reused myself. It was morning. A figure stood upon the little throne fronting the easel.
 Frederick
 She was clothed in fluent draperies ot white; her faxen hair streamed, very mantle, over her shoulders; her blue eyes were turned heavenward; her slen der alabaster hands were crossed upor her bosom. She was saint-an angel The Frederick of my dreams, my hopes my love, was posing before me
 I flew to my palette and brushes an6 set to work. I sketched with facility and rapidity I had never before anc have never since accomplished. I toilec on like one inspired. trembled witt eagerness. I could hear my heart beat fire seemed to be coursing through my veins. A picture was growing under my hands--a picture to be proud of. dreaded each moment that the visio1 would vanish.
 But she remained-motionles as ever-with the same rapid air, divinely beautiful. She spoke no word; nor die I address her. I dreaded that speecl might dissolve the spell. My blessed Frederick
 had been thus engaged some hours my task was nearly completed. For { moment paused to breathe freely, anC to close and rest my burning eyes. was faint and sick with fatigue and ex citement. Yes, and with hunger; haG not tasted food for twenty-four hour and more.
 When turned again to look at Fred erica, she had departed ! All was over It was dream, perhaps; but had pro duced picture. My strength failed me, and sank helplessly upon the foo of my studio.
 Presently consciousness returned t' me. found my English friend ant Alphonse beside me. They were in specting my portrait of Frederick; fo it was portrait, although of that fac they had no suspicion.
 "Come, cheer up, Hans," said tn, Englishman. "This will do. This i by no means bad, don't you know?"
 "C'est magnifque," said Alphonse "Voila un artiste qui peint de chic!"
 He was pale with envy, it seemed t, me. The picture was far beyond any thing he could execute. Of that fel assured. And he was jealous. I dis liked him that's the plain truth. Ant he did not like me. It may be that w did not understand each other.