The Portland daily press., 1879-05-31

business eve have thought" he said, ''that
it would be most delicate way to show our re-
spect for the future heir to the throne of great
nation, to have his portrait painted for the
city, and as you are acknowledged to be our
leading artist we have called upon you to ar
range for sitting" ''Yes" said Elliot, in his
slow and absorbed manner, as though wholly
unconscious of the intended honor, "put the
boys name on the slate and he shall be painted
when his turn comes'' This was all, and
when his visitors reached the door to depart,
he was already busy at his canvas. Another
time, on a cool morning in early summer, the
building in which his studio was located, was
noticed to be full of smoke. 1t was traced to
Elliot's room, who was found at his easel, al
most blinded with smoke. "Why, what is the
matter?" exclaimed the friend as he opened
the door; "are you on fire here?" ''No" said
Elliot, choking as he spoke, but wholly abb
sorbed in his work, ''but 1 wish you would
look and see what the matter is. built fire
in my stove when L came in and it don't seem
to draw WE'LL" why said his friend, mo
wonder. There is no funnel to it," "That's
true" said the absent minded artist, sit was
taken down and had forgotten all about it,"
Art is truly long, unfolding to its lover an
unending series of enchantments, as he persis-
tently follows it, making him more and more
oblivious to everything less worthy as he goes
on. Nature is poem, unfathomable; COM
plex; affording to him who can interpret sim
gle line, a rapture surprising other joys. No
wonder, then, that the artist regards as mat
ters of small moment, mere worldly position,
nr II ;o&;,, - l. Ill
wealth, or the accident of birth 1t is but nat
ural that he should regard such things as dross
when compared with the virgin metal. Art
deals with elements the most subtitle and
elusive. A popular notion exists that it has no
affinity with Philosophy; indeed that the two
cannot harmoniously exist together in the same
mind without the former suffering loss of pow
er. Yet, your true artist be he painter, sculp
tor or poet, is your true philosopher, of necess-
ty. True, certain sensuous phase of art may
exist, attractive and alluring for the moment,
but at the same time be as far from true ex-
preston of art, as the statue is from the living
figure which it represents. A fine philosophi-
cal spirit must pervade art, to make it the most
effective, and the future poets, painters, sculp-
tors and artists of any kind, will be the best
philosophers which the world possesses.
had reached thus far when something hap
pened. was stricken down as with a sudden
blow, and terrible conflict ensued for life.
During the struggles with fever and pain, the
mind was in light mood, now trying to find
rhythmic harmonies between the various pain
full sensations which rapidly followed each 9TH
er, or derisively hurting absurd rhymes against
ha6 bur IL
paper pellets at wild bull, who with flaming
eyes and hot breath was charging madly upon
him. And yet the minds constant assertion
OF itself in this way was doubtless of great ben
eft, and prevented that succumbing to. disease
which might otherwise have followed. This
was one of the absurd things repeated over and
over again:
He lived beside tatoe patch,
His hair was sorrel red
She lived beside the waterin' trough
And yellowsh was her head.
He met her at jam select;
Twas at his Uncle Bilps;
He hemmed and hawed a bit,
And, then, he redeemed round the gills.
And, then, he pulled his collar up
And family smiled and said,
81 hadn't seen yer such SPELL
thought yer mought be dead"
She turned her round, as pale as DEATH
20 cruel one," she cried;
Then sank upon the patent lounge,
And wildly sobbed and sighed.
Upon two clothes poles, home that night,
They bore her faint and pale;
He followed, clinging frightened like,
To Uncle Bills coat tail.
Next spring-a buttercup upon her grave
And violet gathered he
He sighed and said "1Ais like her hair,
This like her eyes naought be-"
And still he tills the tatoe patch,
Though old and bent is he;
But never goes to jams select
Nor takes the social tea.
The forming of such silly things afforded alb
solute relief. One, especially, while undergo
ing the delights of blister repeated itself for
hours, the last lines coming in while the Doc
tors were renewing it in the night, by the light
of candle;
-Aaathena Naranatha
Upon all pills and potions,
Plasters, irritants and lotions,
And all other doctors notions;
On apothecaries' grinning,
In way they fancy winning,
And with hair combed a la sister,
Concoet the dulcet blister.
AnGthemd Mdranutha.
Except that squid, so cute in Latin,
Who made mine soft as satin,-
Smooth and soft as finest satin-
Made it e'en to soothe and tickle
So 1t never pricked prickle:
So that when the meds. with phrases
Soft, removed it, and with praises
OF its beauty grew ecstatic,
In way which seemed erratic
With their candles rhythmic flicker,
might only hum snicker,
But on poultices and plasters,
And all other comfort blasters,
Anathema MdrdRdtha.
And except the meds so cheerful
Who draw hope from doubts most fearful,
AS from wells no eye can measure,
Children draw the sparkling treasure.
But upon their darling cruel,
Tea of beef and such things cruel
ARathemd Maranathd.
This however is but the froth. The deeper
experiences come with convalescenee. 1t is
then one begins to realize more fully than ever
before ones true relations to God and the COM
munity in which he lives. Ones sympathies
expand in a remarkable degree, and ones
friends and acquaintances, aye! all men, seem
nearer than ever before. Banished, isolated
completely from active life, one takes up the
paper, reads the doings of the day; the familiar
names of friends, and realizes with strange
feeling that the business of the world is moving
on without him as well, apparently, as
with him. No lesson is so forcible as this
to teach one his insigniicance Never such
time as this for meditation, which Madame
Swetchine so extols.
Meditation is at once the greatest aid to
faithfulness and its greatest joy, constantly re-
newing the cause of it, and through meditation
faithfulness takes possession of its treasure.
Meditation is the concentration of all our DOW
ers ON one point. 1t renders all verities pres
ent at once, and all their consequences plain.
Meditation reunites all that levity disperses
The microscope gives us world, universe, in
single drop of dew. So, also, there is world
in single instant of simple, profound, earnest
meditation" Nor can we at any other time so
well estimate the vanity of life. We have read
these words of Zschokke in health, careessly,
but with how much force do they now strike