The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1880-08-20
Select Story.
ONLY BOB.


On the highway Of the great city OF
Nj there were towns and villages
without number, but at intervals came
dcsolate spots, rocks. whose homy heads
overlooked beautiful sparkling river,
depths of forests, which stretched away
to an almost unknown distance, long
reaches where human homes are few
and far between.
One of these lonely reccsSes was the
chosen haunt of young artist. who WAS
spending the autumn in neighboring
village.
The sun was going down. but still
RAYMOND Morse fingered. putting the
finishing touches to a picture that he in
tended placing on exhibition in one of
the great art galleries of the distant
city.
The scene before him was an appro-
pirate one for an artists pencil, for the
recess was beautiful enough for the at
firing room of the queen of nature.
Trcmulous, feathery ferns formed a
yielding carpet of gold and bronze; the
Grim rocks that stood on guard BY the
dimpling river, were soltened by cling
ing, silver moss; all around was displayed
the exquisite handiwork Of the great ma
turc painter-that cunning workman.
the frost blood red and royal purple
stood out in startling contrast; gold and
saffron stood out in superb relief against
dun, sombre color, and, above all, rival
ing the glory of the earth, was the roy
ally tinted sunset sky.
The soft summer wind lightly lifted
the heavy masses of hair that waved
away from the head of the white, mcov-
cred artist: his hand moved rapidly, but
otherwise the graceful, tirm-set figure
was like that of a statue so intently was
he engaged on the object of his atten
ton.
Raymond Morse finished the picture
and was holding 1t up from him, survey
ing it with critical eye, when the sounc
of deep drawn breath. close by him
assured Morse that the bold eminenc'
on which he sat, rising round and hoar!
in the deepening twilight, had anothc
occupant.
Morse glanced hastily over his should
er and saw just behind him boy,ragge'
and barefoot, pecping at theplcture witt
Il look of intense longing in his eyes
Seeing that he was discovered, the bo,
turned away, cowed look coming int
the tanred face,
Hello youngster, come back!
The boy stopped at the cordial tone
and glanced covertly at the artist. IL
saw the eyes glowing with radiant kind
ness. the namcleSs charm OF the tact
and so he came slowly to Morses side.
What is your name, my boy!
I'm only Bob, farmer Rowc's boun
boy.
We'll, Robert, tell me what you thin
of it, and the artist put the picture care
fully into the boys hands.
Morse watched the boy as he gazed Il
the picture.
| 1t was as if some subtle magnetiSl
was at work, playing III brightness an
beauty over the brouzed features OF thi
wonder of the twilight Finally the bo
gave the picture back, merely remarkins
i wish | could do like that, but mil
gled with the hopelulncSS of the tone
was an undercurrent Of unconscior
power.
Actuatcd by some influence Raymon
Morse put his hand under Bobs chin an
raising the downcast face gave it pie
cling look. Great eyes of purplish darl
ness met his, in whose depths were for
Removing the hand he gayeth boy
pencil and an unused leaf of his 5 ketc
book.
Bob worked away for a few minut,
then the leaf lay before Morse, sketchC
with such fidelity to nature that the a
tist was astonishcd.
When did you learn to draw Ill
this! he questioned.
i never learned, II always came ha
dy, and before found this pencil
was about an inch in length-I used
mark on birch bark with coal: ! ha'
drawn a great many things that wa
But ! must hurry back with those COY
or old Rowe will give me beating, al
his beatings amt nothing to laugh a