The examiner., 1881-12-17
with elegant evening dresses of the most delicate description, especially those of white and cream color
Story Of a Poor Artist.

| lstence maintained by impecunious art ists in New York, the Truth of tha city tells this story: But the hardshipi Of this calling were probably never bet ter illustrated than inEthe case of young Englishman who had come te this country thinking, as many another European has thought, that he would find America an Fl Dorado. He was of the lightning artist school, and i'm. mediately upon his arrival in New York made application to several illustrated papers for work. in every instance he found no opening, and encountered only refusals.
 Day after day he trudged about to the different offices of the dailies, week. lies, monthlies-everything and any thing-his portfolio under his arm, begging that his work might only be inspected. But the refusals were as persistent as his coming, and he finally became such a nuisance that he was almost literally kicked out of the diff ferent offices.
 Finally he sold one sketch to the ed itor of weekly paper. The price was one dollar, and he was told to come the next day and get his money. He went home to his young wife, who had come all the way from England with him, and they both rejoiced over his good for tune. The sky looked much brighter the next day when he went for his dol lar, but when he was told to come again the sunshine lost some of it's warmth, . nd he went home to his expectant wife and bread and tea, feeling that somehow or other fortune had tricked him.
 He went again and again for that dol. lar, but was put off each time until he began to think that work sold was even worse than work to be sold. Finally the editor paid him the paltry sum, and as he took it with lump swelling up into his throat and the tears almost in his eyes, he said:
 CT had to pay forty cents car-fare to collect that dollar, sir!'
 "Well, what of that; are you not still sixty cents in ?" was the ph ilanthro- pic answer of this most Samaritan-like editor.
 But i'll luck was not always in store for this plucky young fellow, and one day when he had gone down to Harper's, expecting to be turned away as usual, he was surprised that the man to whom he had applied took two of his sketches into an inner zoum, and after remaining some time, returned and stated that the work had been accepted and at once rave the surprised artist an order on the cashier. Almost blinded with the tears of joy that yelled up from his swelling heart, he presented the order and received the money without count ing. When he had gotten into the street he counted it and found $16. He could not credit his fortune, and going back to the cashier, said:
 "I think there is some mistake, sir!"
 The cashier counted the money and showed him the order for the amount paid. He could scarcely get home fast enough, and when he did arrive he ordered his wife to hold out her apron and slowly counted the bills into it. Her eyes were distended to their utmost as she asked incredulously
 ''Is it all yours ?''
 ''I suppose there was mach congrat- ulation after that ?' said Truth, to whom the artist had related this story.
 "No, sir,::'' was the quick reply, sssteakr"
 In all the Bohemian classes of New York there is probably no other which affords so rich or interesting 8 theme for study as that of the poor artists, men and women, whose personal quail ties certainly merit better fate than the starving condition in which most of them suffer.