The Newberry herald. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, 1876-01-19

IN his hand, containing three grea'
black crickets.
| "They bring you good luck, pad
rome. Everybody in Venice keeps
them in the spring"
| "Well, I havn't much faith in
them myself, but we will hang them
over the fireplace and see what turns
up"
| The crickets sang on bravely fo1
| a week, and did their best to bring
me good fortune, I have no doubt,
poor beasts. One morning [ took
down the cage and behold there
were only two legless torsos OF
crickets. Their amputated limbs
lay about the floor Of the cage in
expressive confusion The third
had immigrated. Later [ found
! him half cremated hehind the fire
place.
"Pipo," I said, lnournfully, *tyour
! crickets are a. delusion and snare.
One morning not long after, [
was painting as usual, and Pipo
| was posing patiently before me.
Suddenly there came loud ring at
the door. What couldit be? Cred
itors I had none and visitors never.
The dogs began to howl. I looked
at myself. I wore a coat with fifty
two patches; 7 told Pipo to keep
his attitude. I put on bold face,
and went to the door.
A haired gentleman stepped
into the hall. The dogs swarmed
over him at once.
II have. been told there was an
artist living here" he said, looking
about him. "Down, my dears,
down I beg Of you"
II am the artist, Or at least I try
to be one"
I thoughthis face looked familiar.
T remembered then who he was.
The winter I was in Rome / heard
a good deal about him-a benevo
lent old fellow who hunted out poor
ARTISTS and helped them on. He had
had son mad after art, and refused
to let him study. The boy ran
away from home, came to Europe,
painted awhile, gave hope of a bril-
liant career, and then falling i'll died
of sheer poverty and nothing else.
And so the father did what little he
could to atone for his fault. Oh, l
remembered him well. I ushered
him into the studio.
'sThat's a very nice. little boy"
be said, patting Pipo's shaven pate.
':Does he go to school?'
'sHe does not. He revels in ig-
norance and smokes"
"Ah, see you are painting his
portrait fshe: man. Beau
tiful thing! Is it ordered?"
I forced pallid smile. ''Orders
are not plentiful in this establish
ment. I am painting entirely for
glory at present"
"Then would you allow me to Sc
cure it for friend at home who is
making a collection of native art?
Could you finish it by the end OF
the month? And I know that artists
must have brushes and colors. I
should like to leave an installment,
if you will permit me-"
He laid a purse on the table.
EsNever mind thanks; I 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 bless
ed Of Pipos. It's all through you
and your crickets! !"
Who says that ravens no longer
minister to the needs of hungry
prophets Who says that angels
walk not abroad in human guise.
The dogs barked for delight, and
Pipo and I danced for joy.
From that day onward life pros
pered again. Friends gathered
about,my orders assaulted me on eV-
cry side, and I exchanged the pic
turesque poverty of the house on
the lagoon for the sumptuous hall
of a palace on the Grand Canal.
Pipo stayed with me until I left
Venice. He pleaded hard to be ta-
ken to America, but [ felt that he
would be misunderstood. His in
nocent fondness for the weed would
be labeled Juvenile depravity;" his
poetic raggedness would be account