The Canton mail. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 18??-1882, 1875-12-04
VOLUME XII.

| tnlS Time. Dtt he understood my
position and did not dun me. He wa
dear good fellow, this Pipe of mine
and would rather have gone cigarette
less to the end of his days than have
brought me face to face with insolvency
by asking for centimes.
81 am poor, Pipo," l said, at last,
openly and calmly; ''poor as church
mouse or an artist"
"fll tell you something, padrone
milo, that viii bring you good luck,
answered Pipe, looking at me with his
great earnest eyes.
| "What is it?"
"You see, me want two cents-nlc
buy"
collected the required amount with
some difficulty and cautioned Pipe to be
careful. how he laid it out.
He came back with a small cage in
his hand, containing three great black
crickets.
"They bring you good luck, padrone
Everybody in Venice keeps them in the
spring"
"Well, j haven't much faith in them,
myself, not being child of the south,
sunken in superstition and slavery, but
we will hang them over the fireplace
and see what turns up"
The crickets sang on bravely for a
week and did their best to bring me
good fortune, 1 have no doubt, poor
beasts. One morning took down the
cage, and behold there were only two
legless torsos of crickets. Their am
putated limbs lay about the floor of the
cage in expressive confusion. The
third-had emigrated. Later | found
him half cremated behind the fire
i;lace. "Pipo," l said mournfully,
"your crickets are delusion and
snare"
One morning, not long after, / was
painting as usual, and Pipe was posing
patiently before me. Suddenly there
came a loud ring at the door, What
could it be? Creditors l had none and
visitors never. The dogs began to
howl. l looked at myself. l wore a
coat with fifty-two patches; 1 told Pipe
to keep his attitude. put on bold
face, and, by way of encouragement,
composed as went to the door n new
paragraph for my future biography in
the Olives of Distinguished American
Artists" at is related of him that
even at this early stage of his career he
had such confidence in the might and
power of his genius that he did not hes
itate to answer his own door-bell in
ragged coat"
A white-haired gentleman stepped
into the hall. The dogs swarmed over
him at once.
81 have been told there was an art
list living here" he said, looking about
him. "Down, my dears, down, | beg
of you"
al am the artist, or at least try to
be one"
l thought his face looked familiar.
remembered then who he was. The
winter was in Rome 1 heard a good
deal about him-a benevolent old fel-
low who hunted out poor artists and
helped them ON. He had had a son
mad after art, and refused to let him
study. The hoy ran away from home,
came to Europe, painted awhile, gave
hope of brilliant career, and then fall
ing i'll died of sheer poverty and moth
ing else. And SO. the father did what
little he could to atone for his fault.
Oh, l remembered him well. Iushered
him into the studio.
"That's a very nice little boy" he
said, patting Pipes shaven pate. "Does
he go to schoolY
"He does not. He revels in igno-
rance and smokes"
"Ah, see you are painting his por-
traIt-a young fisherman. Beautiful
thing! Is it orderedy"
l forced a paid smile "Orders are
not plentiful in this establishment. Il
am painting entirely for glory at pres
ent."
"Then would you allow me to secure
it for a friend at home who is making
collection of native art? Could YOU
finish it by the end of the month? And
L know that artists must have brushes
and colors. should like to leave an
instalment, if you will permit me-"
He laid purse on the table.
NNever mind thanks; / had a son
once myself Come up and see me at
the hotel"
With his dear old face all aglow with
kindness he started for the door, He
waved me goodbye with his umbrella.
Come up and see me and we'll talk it
all over"
"Come to my arms, o most blessed
of Pipes. It's all through you and
your cricketsw
Who says that ravens no longer min
lster to the needs of hungry prophets? |
Who says that angels walk not abroad |
i'll human guise?
The dogs barked for delight, and
Pipe and danced jig for JOY.
From that day onward life Drospered
amain. Friends gathered about, my
orders assaulted me on every side, and
| exchanged the picturesque poverty of
the house on the lagoon for the sumptu-
Gus hall of a palace on the Grand Canal. |
Pipo stayed with me until / left Venice.
He pleaded hard to be taken to Amcri-
ca, but / felt that there he would be
His innocent fondness
for the weed would be labelled "Juye
nile depravity;;" his poetic raggedness
would be accounted squalor.
So / left him in that beautiful CITY.
where the marble domes rise from the
water like great white lilies, and the
boats dance over the sea like scarlet
winged birds. There, where life is all
,ne golden afternoon, | left my Pipe.
We had borne joy and sorrow together
md the parting was hard And wher-
ever l go | carry about with me the
memory of two innocent child-eyes
which finds its way continually on to
NY canvas And when / hear the
;ritics say, "How much this face re-
minds me of Da Vinci." l laugh half
vistfully, and think of the tender child
mouth that smiled up at me from the
garden wall that lonely summer even
ng in far-off Venice.
a r II | 4