The Cecil Whig., 1878-07-06
CONTINUED FROM FIRST PAGE

porphyry and marble; the frescoes on the
ceilings are beautiful beyond description,
and on turning to the left or right you
reach the passage that leads to the Grand
Foyer. The interior of this superb hall is
all one blaze of gold, the shining walls of
which flash and sparkle the rays of hun
dreds of brilliant lights. The ceilings are
richly frescoea, and the floor of polished
oak are waxed till they Shine like mirror
Here, between the acts, high and low rich
and poor, commingle in perfect equality; the
richly laced train and diamonds of the
princess brushing the blouse and the calico
of the ouvrier. Entering the auditorium
of the theatre, gold, gold, gold is around
you everywhere, relieved here and there by
the rich silks and costly velvets of the
boxes; the dresses Of the ladies very fire.
quently indicate the widest and most
lavish extravaganza; the style called dec
ollete generally prevailing, which leaves you
in doubt as you see the shoulders over the
top of the boxes, if they are not in the
same delightful costume that distinguishes
Powers Greek slave. Diamonds, rubes,
emerads, pearls, amethysts and other
precious stones flash in the brilliant lights,
and the ear is stunned with the hum Of
strange and innumGrable tongues. Four
strokes on the floor with a mighty hammer
announces the rising Of the curtain, and
in an instant all is huShed. The scenery
is of dazzling Splendor, and at once you
are transported into Fairy Land. Trans
formations that exceed the widest dreams
of fiction amaze and bewilder you, and
when the Curtain falls and the lights are
out, you wonder if it has not been all
dream. This is the grand prize that lures
the youthful singer, and which thousands
die without ever clutching. Occasionally,
one, like the young American girl Albani,
succeeds, carrying the rich bloom OF youth
and beauty and virtue, entwined with
transcendent genius and the golden wreath
of triumph; but the million fall by the
wayside or sacrifice their hopes of heaven
for the prospect of earthly success.
The art galleries, too, are full. In the
splendid ha lis of the Louvre palace, easels
line the way on either side and palefaced
and earnest young men and women toll
during the long hours of the day. God
only knows the sacrifice it has cost many
of them to reach this deceitful goal which
they never leave alive. When l first came
to Paris couple Of months ago, passing
along the galleries Of the Louvre, used
frequently to stop before the castle of
fair haired young English girl who was
engaged on work of rare and exquisite
beauty. The young artist never seemed to
notice any of the passers-by but bent in
tently over her work. completely absorbed
in her task. Her dress indicated poverty,
and her features, which had once been
beautiful, were now sharp and pinched;
her golden hair hung neglected down her
back and her large blue, earnest eyes were
deeply sunken in her head. Occasionally a
cough would rack her, and then she woud
stop and lean her head upon Ler hand.
One day | asked her if the picture was
for sale. She answered me in low, husky
voice: "Not yet, not yet; l am painting it
for the golden prize of the Academy" In
the early days of May l missed her; her
her chair was vacant and her easel was
covered up. l went back day after day,
but the palette was untouched and the
picture was still shrouded On Wednes day
last, as was walking along the Faubourg
ST. German, on bright and pleasant after
noon, | met Il funeral procession; the coffin
and the hearse were draped in spotless
white, and around it were troops Of beauti
Gui young girls bearing wreaths and gar.
lands of flowers, indicating that she whom
they bore to her last rcStin" place was
maiden. In common with the rest of the
lockers on revelcntly raised my hat as
the mourning procession passed by, and !
inquired of a woman standing near me if
she knew who it was whom they followed.
She told me her name; it was that of my
young artist friend of the Louvre. She
had missed the golden prize of the Acad-
emy to win, | hope and trust, a shining
and immortal crown. Truly yours,
BRoADERIM.