The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1877-03-15
CELESTIAL PEAS.

the straight line Is the li0e OF beauty, Is
not the square root the root of all true a TT,
and doesn't that explain perfectly how the
Professor and the little Portrait Painter
came to be such friends?
If that explanation will not do, there
must be some other equally clear, for they
certainly were too opposite for any simpler
cement TO hold them together. The Pro-
fcssor had hardly ever thought of anything
since he was born. except as question of
calculus, to be figured or prefigured in some
mathematical fashion or other; while, as
for the little Portrait Painter, everything,
pretty much. stood across his sky like a
fragment, at least, of a rainbOw-form
and color-that was all.
And at the same time they had taken
long leasessOf their rooms to be sure of
keeping side by side; and whenever the
light failed the little Painter or his genius
wouldn't work, he got over it all by throw
ing his brushes into corner and leaving
them to do as they liked till he came back,
fresh as lark. from visit next door. Not
that he ever expected his visits returned,
however, for there was a perfect under
standing that the Professor couldn't be
comfortable in a room where everything
was thrown down just as it happened.
Something was sure to be pointing at him,
if it was only a brush handle, and the
Professor couldn't bear to be pointed at by
anything that held no relation to him; he
liked to see everything squared to its posi-
ton in life and staying there.
I'm be back in seven or nine min
utes," he called over his shoulder, one
drizzly Saturday, as the familiar rattle ut
his dOor-knOb overlook him just half way
down the stairs.
The Professor never would say he was
was properly the angle of square; but
round the corner he went and into the lit
tie thread and. needle store close by.
want-ah, what do you call it? I
really forget" he said, hesitatingly, "but
something to mend glove"
And what color is the gloves asked
the pretty grisette, with sympathy shin
ing in her eyes. The question was an un-
expected stroke, and the Professor reused
himself to an extraordinary effort of menu
DRY.
II should say-purple," he decided at
last, exultingly; and, just as his seventh
minute was fairly up, he reappeared at
the top of the stairs and opened the door,
Punctual," said the little Painter,
looking up from the easy.chair before the
crate.
"0f course" said the Professor. LET
L We
denote the number of miles to the hour,
and you can bring the result to simple
fraction without the least difficulty,
Pink
"Pinxit" was always the Professors
name for him, but it slipped down into
Pink" now and then, when the Pro.
fessOr happened to be in extraordinary
spirits, and he was particularly pleased
with himself just now for his triumph
about the color Of the glove.
The day is SO mOnstrOus gray, a man
can't do anything with il" said Pink, SET
Ting down into his easy-chair again.
Gray! State the proposition fairly.
Pink! It's holiday, that's what's the
matter with it. There never was such q
terrible country for holidays on the face of
the EARTH"
There are more of them coming,
us" replied Pink, with glee. "a regu.
lar Aurora Borealis; streak of rose. color
thrown smack across the backbone of
winter"
Humphr" growled the Professor ;
but he seated himself and began hum
ming tune as he unrolled his parcel.
What are you trying to do now?
asked Pinxit, stretching himself up ON
the elbows of the chair for better look,
for the Professor had suddenly converted
the thumb and fingers of his left hand
into a set of spindles, and was evoluting
cocoon of purple sewing silk from them
in most scientific style.
Why, you see, Pink" said the Pro.
fessOr, rs the last coil came off his thumb
and became triumphantly complete CO.
coon, I've worn these gloves about three
On five times, and the edges of this seam,
which should represent two parallel lines.
have been drawn from their points until
they form an ellipse. Now, let the upper
tip of the finger and the lower end of the
rip represent two fixed points, and let me
take piece of this thread shorter than
the distance, and I'll reduce them to q
given line again in twinkling."
But, my gracious man alive!' ex.
claimed Pink, springing from his chair
10 the Professors, with one leap, "itc can't
be done!'
g Cant he DONE" repeated the Pro.
/" fessor triumphantly. "Just let this
needleful of silk become a tangent line,
and -"
But I tell you," interrupted Pink,
the silk is the very difficulty! Don't
you see it isn't the colorl You might rs
we'll put green stripe on the sky, and be
done with it!'
AAS 1 AVACC0OA A0NC 1CAls
1t isn't the color ?" he echoed, unwill.
ingly; and laying the cocoon and the
glove side by side, he gave sudden stoop
tor q nearer look ct the question.
don't see 20 very much difference. {"
ne said, rising again to give the artist
rather discounted look.
=" Don't see il! ," said Pink, fairly beside
himself with excitement, "don't see that
that one is q purple, and the other
brown! Why, they'd explode If YOU nut
them together! Let them alone, man.
, ,I an 9th day. and let me find the right
Cant do it, Pinxit," said the Pro.
lessor. regretfully. 81 shall want these
gloves to wear in just seventeen hours
We'll, give me the silk, and III paint
II lor you; them" cried Pink, in despera-
: color" =" AS' '--0
The Professor sat with the Threaded
needle in his hand and = serse
of downfall in his heart. meeklv
waiting for Pink to come hsci .
but he waited and waited, and M
Pink appeared. A sitter had come in.
the Professor was sure, from the eounds
Of voices through the wall, and he ~
equally sure, by the way things seemed
to be knocking about in there, had come
in time that didn't suit the artists mood
at all.
The Professor hesitated. "What ia the
use OF multiplying troubles ?" he asked
himself, in q confidential whisper; "the
colors are both really very dark" and,
with furtive glance towards Pinxit'i
room, he" fixed the extremity" Of hil
thread and went-t0 work.
The next morning the Professor put on
the gloves ana went softlv ont 70 church
before the little Portrait Painter had
shown himself. He felt q slight twinge
~ De sure, - the CLEAN from his row Of
Ssscass seniDe0 tA dirty e . H n