The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1877-09-29
For The Cecil Wing.
ARCTIC SHOWS.
AN ARTISTS STORY.
BY JUIIANNA PERKINS.

/ l was, IN realty, poor art student, sit
ting alone in the deserted studio of my mas
ter, gazing absently into the smoldering
fire in the open CRATE.
| In imagination | was the most famous
painter of my day. Yes, single picture
had placed me on the pinnacle of fame, and
the world was bowling at my feet.
/ Men of wealth and high position were
taking me by the hand and inviting me to
become their guest. Beautiful women were
smiling upon me and showering praises on
my work.
"The dream shall be realized" l cried,
starting up and selling my palette and
| brushes, but the next moment | set them
down again and turned away, while felt
the hot bushes mounting to my forehead,
for there, in the doorway, stood my fellow
student, Paul Silvering, with a roguish
smile upon his countenance, which con-
WINGED me that he had overheard the excla-
nation, and at that moment felt as though
he, by some supernatural agency, was read
ing my wild thoughts.
What are you staying here for while
the shades of night are falling fast?' Are
you dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared
to dream befae? Ell, now, let me be your
father confessor."
Won by his gracious humor, l told him
my plans. hopes and ambitions.
"And what is this famous piece of art
to be manned? For, wherever l may be, |
think that shall have to come with all the
world and bow at the shrine of genius
he cried gayly, as he sat down in the mas
ter's easy chair and stirred the smoldering
fire into blaze with his cane.
"Oh, now you have spoiled it ALL" said
pettishly. l had it all pictured out in the
GOALS
What" cried Paul, sit isn't The
Fires Of Hades you propose to take for a
subject, is it?''
"Quite the reverse" l replied laughing.
"My picture is to be called The Arctic
Snows.'''
Eyes, glowing pile of anthracite is
very suggestive of Arctic Shows to a
vivid Imagination, have no doubt. But
a truce to dreams and nonsense let us 90 to
St. Stephens and hear the vesper hymns.
Enjoy the present and let the future take
care of itself, is my motto"
So down the narrow steps we went at a
gathering pace into the noisy street, where
the lamps were just being lighted, and,
bni CT oh
down at the door of St. Stephens, build
ing of quaint, Gothic architecture. A part
of the front and one side were COM
pletely covered with ivy. The vespers were
conclusion the congregation filed slowly out
to the solemn music Of the great organ; yet
while Paul and | fingered near the door,
waiting to catch the last strains, there came
troupe of girls bearing floral decorations
for the altar. We stood still to enjoy the
charming tableaux.
One of these girls especially attracted my
attention. She carried a fanciful little
basket, of delicate workmanship, full of
fragrant Easter lilies. Her face was fair
as the flowers she scattered reverently upon
the altar. Her hair of that bright, uncer-
tain tint, which artists love so well, fell
unbound far below her waist. Hers was a
form and face which painter might spend
his life in trying to reproduce upon his can
vas, and then go mad or die with grief at
the vanity of the attempt.
AS she finished placing the pure offer
ings upon the altar, she turned hastily to
address some remark to one of her young
companions As she did SO the heecy,
white cloud, which fell neglgently from
her graceful dropping shoulders, came in
contact with one of the tall wax tapers
which had been left burning within the
chancel railing. In moment it ignited,
and the next instant the frightened girl
was enveloped in flames. l flew to the res
cue, and, after much effort, succeeded III
extinguishing the fire. Scarcely was this
task accomplished, when a tall gentleman,
with dark, forbidding countenance, en-
tered the church, strobe up the aisle, and
demanded an explanation of this singular
scene, for | was now seated upon the chan
Gel steps with the fainting form of the res
cued maiden in my arms, and her terrified
companions were sobbing around us.
lost no time in explaining the affair to
Mr.. Athlng for this, he informed me. was
his name), and FASTENED to resign his daugh-
ter to his charge.
Your name and address," he asked
coldly at parting.
My name is Allan Lawrence" | re-
pied as coldly as he, but ! shrank fiom
giving the name of the humble street where
my gings were situated; so merely men,
toned the location of the studio.
Taking a card from his pocket he handed
it to me in silence, entered his carriage,
gave his coachman orders to drive home as
rapidly as possible, and left me standing
dazed and bewidered upon the deserted
street. Under the light of neighboring
lamp | read the name and address of MIR.
Athling. My heart sank within me. He
lived in one of the most aristocratic neigh
borhoods in the city.
| FASTENED home to my dreary lodgings,
but not to sleep. l could think of nothing
save the beautiful being who had so mys-
teriously crossed my path.
My fellow students rallied me all next
day upon my absent mindedness; but |
needed them not, ard early in the evening
stole away from the studio, and at last
found my way to the residence of Mr.. Ath-
ling.
l walked up and down many times upon
the opposite side of the street and cast
many an anxious glance at the elegant man.
sion designated by the number on the card.
At last, impelled by an impulse which l
could no longer control, crossed the street,
assembled the steps and rang the bell. Of
the servant, who answered my summons, |
| made many inquiries as to the health of
Miss Elaine after her severe fright and mar
row escape from death the night before.
In answer to nv Inquiries she replied that