Little Falls transcript., 1879-09-04

hurried you too much"
"Then the Gobseck in art lett and NUT.
tered, "He will never do it again" The
spark flew when the flint and steel hap.
pened to be, once in that mans whole
life, in exact juxtaposition, and that di.
vine flame will never flash any more
"Confound it! I am out a hundred francs
I don't complain. 1t was speculation,
I must in the future beware ofspurts. I
do not regret having paid to see that bust
It Is an impression, which, brocanteur
though be, did me good.'
The tnlru Dust was miserable fail
ure, on par with Mucca plaster Paris
cat. A fourth was never asked for. The
artist who had made one ''chet d euvre,''
went in time to the mad-house, came out
cured, lapsed again into vice, and after
that no record Of him was ever kept, the
vampire still retained, $50 the story went, J
the impression he received. You might
have met him at a salon twenty years
afterward, and If you had referred any
choice piece of statuary to him, he would
have replied: Yes, it is good; quite the
knack; but once I saw, in a garret, on a
stained, threc-legged rickcty washstand
not worth four. sous, the divinest work
human hands ever produced. Though il
cost me good deal to see it 100 francs
and I don't rogret it. Sapristel but she
was fine."
A very distinguished parsonage was
having his portrait taken, though he ap-
peared utterly Indifferent to the trouble
the artist was taken about him. This non
chalant manner, this consciousness of real
majesty; I think is inherent in creatures
who are physically gifted. It might,
though, have been natural modesty or I'm
underlined dread Of notoricty which had
SO far, perhaps, prevented his noble traits
from having that publicity given them
which they deserved. Still, as a highly
popular character, innumerablc men, and
women, children and nurses, in New
York all knew him at sight. He could
not have walked the streets without at
tracting the most marked attention. The
model, am sorry to state, did not lend
himself to the situation. If anything, he
was too stolid. Perhaps he looked all
the better in his rigid pose, for it was in
keeping with his natural dignity. It
might have been triviality on his part,
but he seemed to direct all his attention
to fly which was buzzing near him. If
he did look at the artist, it was with a
side glance, as Of askance, in which was
mingled the sli ightest trace of disdain. the
barcst shade Of contempt. Now, do not
suppose for an instant that the portrait
which was being taken was forced one,
intended to grace that pitiful series of
heads, more terrible than Holbein's
"Dance of DEATH" called the Rogues'
Gallery; still it must be confessed that
just then the parsonage whose features
where to he handed down to posterity
had really no exact volition of his own.
Like some right regal character, though
he might have been king and wise in
statecraft, itwas quite certain that he had
never thought it worth his while to pay
the same attention to aesthetics as did
once a Bavarian monarch:
It was Mr.. Conklin who put the whole
matter straight before me. ''For the last
eight years." said the courteous director
of the geological department in Central
park, '>that old man has been making a
portrait of Lincoln "Practice must
have made him perfect was suggested;
.'but do you not think that the attention
of the sitter might be excited, some pecu-
liar fitting facial expression intensified,
by the introduction-say-ot knuckle
Of veal, OR ten pounds OF porter house
steak!' every possibly it might. I
shall be glad to introduce you to the
artist.' Mr.. Conklin pointed out an old
man Of fully seventy, who was gazing
in rapt admiration at the lion in his
cage.
A presentation in form Immediately
followed, and I craved an inspection of the
old mans art work. The artist seemed
fattered, for drawing it out from the
waistband of his trousers Gn which kind
of handy, elastic portfolio, between his
neither garment and his shirt, he kept his
studies.) he presented his work. On the
backs of small business cards, on little
scraps of paper, on the margins of news
papers, his drawings of lions ln,many
positions had been made, some OF them
quantity colored. If they were achaic
in feeling, they we're at least truth
full. II will get it by and by said
the old man, cheerfully. eft only wants
time and patience. When I first began
1 could not do it at all. You see that
line isn't right, it is out Of proportion.
The lion was not still. Don't consider
that line as belonging to the picture at
all. Follow out the other one. Lovely
brute is he not? Splendid! Yes, I have
been at it a long, very long time. When
I get the lion all right, I am going to
work on the tiger. I am sure to succeed
some day-certain. 1t is such a pleasant
occupation and capital chance for study
Yes, 7 have quite quantity of drawings
of this lion home. I don't try to draw
anything else. Let man keep on max.
ing portrait of lion, and it IS work
enough. I never made pictures when ]
was young and am sorry I did not put
my hand to it sooner. mighth have sue.
ceedcd." Then, with a pleasant, hopeful
smile, his honest eyes heaming over the
rim Of his iron-bound spectacles, in or.
der to get better view Of the king o1
beasts, the old fellow with the artistic
tendency was lost, mingling with the
crowd which surged around the animal
cages.
I do not know exactly whether there
s. any more to this latter story. It is thu
old thing of men missing their oppor
tunitles, suppose. Many of us blundel
through life, and make a whole series O.
miserable failures because we have no
found the profession we were adapted to
That narrowing process of stopping "
round wholes with square pegs must eve
be going on. God only knows if tina
chirpy old man, who now, at seventy, i
making drawings Of the lion, might no
have had in him once, many years ago
all the elements of Snyder or Land
seer. He might have been the maste
artist Of the century. |
Ragout Pickle. TO two gallons o
chopped cabbage and green tomatoe
mixed put five tablespoonfuls Of mad
mustard three g1lls Of mustard seed
two tablespoonfuls of cloves, one gill Q
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