Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1880-01-28
All Out OF Drawing.

in an unpretentous building at Noting Hill,
England, goodly crowd of artists, many
young and few old, that constituted the com
mittee of the Society of Water Colors -
not the society whose movements are chron-
icled with so much interest by all the art
journals of Great Britain, but a little simple
minded society, composed of amateurs and
young artists, with one or two veterans to
give it backbone.
AT the time our story opens they were sit
ting in judgment on the pictures sent in for
their annual exhibition, and they looked
critical and grave, as befitted their task.
Through the half-open door glimpses could
be caught of several anxious ones in the re-
ception-room waiting to know their fate,
The talk hummed on among the committee,
and at last the fat went forth-dH the pic
lures were to be admitted. To this one of
the veterans-a good-looking man of thirty
five-objected
"There is one really too abomnably bad
said he. "That Scene from Macbeth it
would never do to have that"
"Oh, come, Stretton, you're too particular.
1t will pass muster among the rest"
"No, it WON'T it will be disgrace to the
exhibition. just look at Macbeth's leg and
the color-perfectly raw 1t will never do.
So the hum began again, and the result
was that the Scene from Macbeth was lit
orally and figuratively turned face to the wall.
Stretton, satisfied at having saved the
honor Of the society, left the others to settle
the remaining business, and was walking
out of the room, when he came face to face
with Boggs-a good-natured little amateur,
who could not draw "any more than a frog
what hasn't got no TAIL" but was immensely
conceited, to make up for it. He caught at
Stretton eagerly.
"I say, old fellow, you've done it You
know that picture you insisted upon turn
ing out ? Well, it was painted by young
girl, and she was in the next room, and
heard every word that you said, and has
gone home crying her eyes out"
"By Jovew exclaimed Stretton, looking
dismayed, "Pm awful sorry. | wouldn't
have had it happen for the world. Poor
little thing Confound my stupidity /
might have known better. What shall l
do? Where is the picture ?"
"She's taken it home with her." said little
Boggs.
"What an Internal idiot was p went on
Stretton. "Poor little girl say, Boggs,
you're going my way Suppose we lay our
heads together and see what can be done ?"
very good, said little Boggs.
The walk was not long one, and our
two friends did not loiter, yet they evidently
accomplished something, for when they
parted where their paths diverged, Strettou
said, "Then you'll do it tomorrow, old
fellow 2"
And little Boggs replied, al will, and re-
port to you afterward."
The next morning as the "poor little
girl sat painting away in a corner of her
sitting-room, while her mother dozed and
crocheted and lamented the days when Mr.,
Grierson was alive, and they did not have
to live in lodgings, the diugy overgrown
servant-grl announced a gentleman to see
Miss Grierson, and Mrs. Grierson fled to the
adjoining bedroom, despite her daughters
assurance that "her dress was all right" as
little Boggs entered, looking very much as
il he wished he hadn't come.
Miss Grierson remembered his face, and
the thought of her rejected picture made her
turn hot and cold together.
Little Boggs introduced himself, and
plunged in medias res. "Pm awfully sorry,
Miss Grierson. that you heard what was said
yesterday, and L"
Interrupted Miss Grierson, with as much
whitening calmness as if poor little Boggs
had called her picture abominably bad"
"Well but you know, Miss Grierson,"
persisted little Boggs, Il want to explain.
think you ought to know. My friend-at
least Stretton, you know-he said that purely
out of spite. He had quarrel with your
father once, and he did that Just to spite
you; he says so himself. | thought it my
duty to tell you. And wouldn't be cut up
about at all, If | were you. would Just
put it In SHELLS window, and let the public
judge. did the same thing with one Of
mine, and it went off first-rate. Good-morn-
ing And little Boggs blundered out of
the room, feeling like fool, and looking
much the same, 1t must be confessed.
Miss Grierson jumped up from her chair
What contemplate wretch to abuse
my poor little picture and turn it out of the
exhibition just from spite To think that
he hated my father"
"Who was it, Edith 2" asked Mrs. Grier-
son, coming back to her easy-chair.
"Some one from the society, mamma"
said Edith, choking her rage.
"Does any one want to buy your picture?"
"No, no, mamma | am only advised to
put it in SHELLS window. shall do it, and
well, we shall sse."
All the rest of the morning Edith sat
nursing her anger as she piled brush and
pencil. Her modification was gone and in
its stead burned fierce hatred toward
Stretton. She would never forgive him, she
vowed, hotly; she would never, never for
give him. And she wouid be famous yet,
and powerful too. Perhaps the day might
come when the tables would be turned.
" Abominably bad u The picture should
60 TO SHELLS that very afternoon, and the
public should judge, as Mr.. Boggs sug-
gested.
Aud TO SHELLS it went, but not TO remain
long. The next morning, when Edith passed
the shop, no blue and brick color Macbeth
graced the window. With quite "sensa-
ton +" she entered, and learned that it had
been sold an hour before TO gentleman
who would like two more Shakspearean sub
jects if she would paint them.
What an impetus that gave her The
path 10 glory seemed opening before her.
She walked home as II crowned with laurel |
and entered the little semi-detached house |
As she would the Temple of Fame.
The two Shakspearean subjects met with
success, and put few pounds in Edith's
slender purse.
Mrs. Grierson began to complain that
Edith never left her easel now except to 20