Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1877-02-14

ded the painting beneath its cover. 81
have not half seen it yet"
But muttering, "Some other time, F"
he persisted In hiding it from me, and
We presently went to lunch together.
Now | was in nowise satisfied with
my friends reticence, and experienced
very vivid curiosity 10 hear the par
ticulars of his wonderful dream, which
he had so graphically lined upon the
canvas, but no effort Of mine could in
duee him to say more concerning it
than that it occurred to him just as he
had painted il.
The painting was sent to the Aca-
DENY for exhibition that season, and
was sold to a particular friend of mine
for gOodly sum-for so much, in fact,
that j often joked Mort on his dream
picture and the fortune il brought him !;
for it really seemed as though its sale
was the beginning of season of great
prosperity.
The winter and spring passed, and as
summer came and begarfto empty itself
by the carloads and steamboatsful into
the country, Mort and |, with a party
of other artists like him, or idlers like
myself, made up trip to the Adiron-
dacks. 1t is needless for the purpose of
this story that | should detail our sum
dry adventures during the weeks we
passed among the lakes and hills, nor
need | relate our experience with fish
and flesh, in our numerous hunting and
fishing excursions.
We met many acquaintances, and
made many new ones, and among the
latter were the family of Mr.. Sanfield,
a merchant from Montreal, who, with
his wife and daughter, with the af-
fianced husband of the latter. was pass
ing few weeks in search Of rest and
relaxation from his customary labors.
Alice Sanfield was beautiful, a pet of
Canadian society, wealthy in her own
right as well as by prospective heirship,
and altogether ''catch-" Her lover
was an officer in the British army, sta
toned at Montreal, and now on leave
a fine-looking and gentlemanly young
fellow, of good family, and apparently
desperately in love with Miss Sanfield.
Captain Rowland had, however, one
peculiarity, which he displayed on sew
eral occasions very prominently, and
which led Mort TO remark TO me one
day, when it had been more than usu-
ally manifest, that he thought the cap
tain would lead Miss Alice rather
| lively dance when she became Mrs.
Rowland. He had, i'm fact, about the
most uncomfortable temper l ever saw
displayed in man. So violent was he
at times, that | commonly wondered
why he had not long before got himself
shot for Incorporate insolence in one
of his fits of passion. Another peculiar
| ity of his was evinced in frequent
lonely wanderings quite away from the
hotel, from which journeys he would
not return for davs together. These
dIsappearances were accounted for by
the captain by various sporting excuses,
interest in them had it not been for the
incident which L will now relate.
One day Mort and started our on
trip Oh our own account, ostensibly for
fishing purposes, but really for my
friend to obtain a sketch of charming
vista which had not as yet been discov-
cred by his lynX-eyed associates. Our
journey led us some twenty miles from
the hotel; we travelled portion of the
| way in an open wagon, and footed ii
toward the point desired.
On our route we passed pretty farm
house, which we eyed with the salts
faction which such rural scenes always
afforded us, and should have Thought
no more of it, had we not suddenly es
pied Captain Rowland, accompanied by
young lady, engaged in earnest and
apparently excited conversation.
The lady was seated on a little knoll
hundred yards from the house, and
the captain stood beside her, leaning
with one hand on the tree beneath
whose shades she sat listening TO his
words. We were out of sight OF
them in a moment, and with few
remarks as to Miss Sanfield's probable
appreciation of the scene if she had wit
messed it, we continued on our way.
Guides mad preceded us with a tent
and sundry appurtenances, and Oh
reaching the spot selected for encamp
ment we found these duly arrived aud
in order, and located ourselves for the
night, Mort intending 70 make his sketch
the next morning.
1t was bright stariiv evening; we
were located just on the edge of a pretty
brawling brook, and as we sat, after a
delicious trout supper, smoking our
pipes lazily, we felt about as comfort
able as was practicable. Twilight had
faded suddenly, and just as the stars
became rather necessary for illuminat-
ing purposes shrill scream startled u
from our seats on an old log, and
thrilled us to our very marrows.
One of our guides said:
s'That was woman's scream, and
near by"
Dtil We va
the sound, which led us straight down
the cour of the brook. A few mo-
ments brought US to the outlet of the
little stream, and as Mort and l turned
projecting rock we came upon
thrilling scene indeed.
Mort saw it first, and crying, "My
dream! my dreami" he fell fiat on his
face in dead faint. And as l stood
over him, leaning forward, the moon
shone full upon the original of the
painting had seen in Morris studio in
New York.
Here was the cascade and the black
pool; there were the gray moor and the
distant mountains. The gnarled roots
and fibres twisted together far beneath
me, in the clasp of a fair white arm,
and the white figure rose and fell with
e e Il.