The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1875-12-03
A MODEL BOY.


lying on the wall of the public garden
in Venice, fishing with a pin-hook.
He apparently consisted of two brown
bare legs and a thing of shreds and
patches called trousers. The rest OF
him was hanging over the lagoon.
HallOO, young man., said 1; "stay
where you are a minute. / want to
make sketch of you"
He lifted his head and showed me
one of thoes delicious chiId-faces that
belong only to Da Vinci's angels.
Two great innocent brown eyes looked
frankly and steadily into mine. The
mouth wore that sweet shadowy smile
which Leonardo cast over the lips of
all his women and children.
| extended my hand. The young
fisherman dropped his pin-hook and
laid his dingy little paw therein.
''This is more than mere circum-
stance, l said; "this is an affinity.
will take this child unto my heart and
adopt him while [ stay in Venice.
am poor lonely Bohemian; this de-
lightful boy is also a Bohemian, iudg-
ing from his clothes. Let us be beg
gars and happy together"
ended by proposing that he should
share my humble home and fortunes,
provided his mother would let him,
clean brushes, go of errands, amuse
the dogs, make himself generally useful,
and pose for me by the hour.
&" [ will" he cried, tumbIing off the
wall. Come along, nlustrissimo."
So we went home to the dull abode
of poverty. / introduced Pipe to the
World, Sin, and the Flesh. Don't
tremble liz your virtuous shoes. They
were Onl y my dogs-poor outcast ours
that drifted with the tide in the lagoon
to my door. They were lean, hungry
eyed creatures, always on the alert for
blows and kicks. What better friends
could an unrecognized artist have
than three drowning, starving, miserable
dogs? They were four-tooted epigrams
against fortune.
1t was too late to begin work that
day; | could only form high hopes of
Pipe on canvas. We partook of a
frugal repast. Pipe was initiated into
the use of the fork. Then / offered
for his consideration the first of a
series of lectures on the manly art of
washing plates. Hitherto the dogs had
neatly polished them and / had merely
touched them up with the towel. This
is the poetry of the artists life.
And yet, now that | have made me
a name, now that friends and honor
and fame are mine, l long with a
wistful sadness for those dear old DAYS
in far-Off Venice. Something | have
lost which then made life glorious. If
l could only step out into my loggia at
sunset, after hard days work, and
hear in the rustic of the trees in the
garden, in the roar of the surf at the
Lido, in the vesper bell sweeping over
the lagoon, "The world is an infinite
possibility. Go forth in the might of
thy genius and youth and conquer the
realm"
| painted Pipe just as he was, in his
rags and his dirt and his angelic In
pishness. / wanted to paint him
semi-nude, for the sake of that ripe
golden skin of his. But | felt that my
picture was destined for American eyes
and | merely enlarged the holes in his
garments.
PIpo began to manifest an alarming
fondness for brushes and colors. "Is
it possible that | may prove the
Cimabue to this Giotto?" 1 oueried.
" Giotto tended sheep and Pipe fshed
with a pin-hook. Better that he
should dredge mud from Venetian
canals all his life. He shall never
WELD the brush with my consent"
This model boy of mine had one
vice which all my efforts could not
uproot from his youthful breast. He
had the face of an angel, but he used
language that would have brought a
blush to the cheeks of shipload of
pirates.
Pipe soon settled to his own satisfac-
ton that when l went to America he
was to 30 likewise. l encouraged the
idea from educational motives.
"Pipo, how long is it since you
washed your facet"
Pipe counted his fingers.
"A week."
"Well, when you go to America,
Pipo, my boy, you'll have to wash your
face every day, and your hands too, for
there, my Venetian aristocrat, the
people have a plebeian prejudice In
favor of cleanliness"
Pipe went off and, returning, said,