The daily Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1873-1877, 1875-07-01
A FOREIGN SCANDAL.
One With a Lord and q Parlor Maid In
It
London Correspondence Of the Cincinnati Con

London Correspondence Of the Cincinnati Com
merelal
Here is rather quaint bit of gossip,
which has the double merit of being credi-
bic and creditable. Lord Blank, a little
time ago. was the subject of a considerable
scandal, which appears to have got abroad
through governess who resigned her posi-
ton in his mansion, The was a widower,)
and afterwards assigned as her reason his
lordship's improper intimacy with one of
his domestics. Just as these whispers
began to circulate concerning the noble
man whose character had been spotless, his
friends received marriage cards in which
his name was connected with a plain
Miss somebody whom nobody had heard
of. The fact turned out to be that Lord
Blank had fallen in love with his parlor
maid; that for a year or more he had de-
voted every evening of his life to her
instruction, so unconsciously giving rise to
scandal; and that when the maid had
learned as much as young ladies generally
know (which she says was not nearly so
hard as TO get her his right he married
her. OF course to the grand world in
which this eccentric nobleman moved the
scandal had been only an amusing sur
prise; but the marriage with the parlor-
maid-that was shocking. However, this
young dame had several characteristics to
whose value people of fashion are not in
sensible. First, she is one Of the most
beautiful women in London; secondly. she
has refined simplicity of manner, and,
thirdly, she has taste in dress which has
already gained her a certain fame among
artists. In short, the parlor maid turns
out to have had all the honors in her hand,
and now, even among those of the class to
which her lord has introduced her, there
is no more general favorite, as certainly
there are none more piquant and attrac-
tive.
While / write a funeral is taking place
in small English town-Cookham which
is almost as sad as any that has occurred
this many year. 1t is that of the most
poetic English artist who ever found his
way to academic distinction, namely, Fred
erick Walker, A. r. A. A year ago, when
we looked to find on the walls of the acad-
envy his usual picture, it was not found,
and to the many anxious inquiries the ans
wer came that illness had prevented his
completing it. But no one imagined that
this sickness was unto death. This year
| the picture came, and it Is now on the
walls of the academy. 1t is charming
picture, which is called THE Right of
Way" A sheep with her lamb shows a
disposition to dispute the path with a
young maid and little boy who have
strayed far into the meadow gathering wild
flowers. The little boys terror as he
stretches up on tiptoe aud makes the elder
party his tower of defence is most anus
ing. The figures, animal and human, have
all Walkers matchless charm, but the
landscape exhibits for the first time in any
work of his lack of finish-which, alas, is
now explained. Two years ago the very
best picture in the academy was painted
by him. 1t was the Haven of Res" -an
old country asylum fer the superannuated,
10 whose garden might be seen the aged
politician forgetting the beauties of june
in his newspaper, and others engaged in
such gentle occupations as might be6t a
castle of fairly. earned Incidence. The
most remarkable figures were these of an
aged woman, and younger one-beauti
full even in her parlor-on whose arm the
other leans. The blending Of flial love-
sense of duty, unrest, longing for the life
shut away from her in this young woman's
face is, perhaps, as fine piece of expires
sion in art as was ever achieved. Some
one has called Walker the "Tenryson Of
Art" but so high praise does not do him
exact justice; there would have to be add
ed to Tennyson some of that exquisite
subtlety which is caught here and there il
) less successful poets-the mystical touche!
of Sterling and Clough-to enable one t.
interpret through parallel in literature
the wonderful depth and artistic beauty o
this man. Indeed, to-day, we may vel
take up Sterlings dirge:
Weep for DRdalus, ali that is fairest!
All that is tuneful in air or wavei
, Shapes whose beauty is truest and rarest,
Haunt with your lamps and spells his gravel"