The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1881-08-20
Lady Artists on Lark in Maine,

Lady Artists on a Lark in Maines
[olive Thorne in Harpers Magazine for September.
Life had quickly settled into regularity.
Every morning sketch books and easels, paint
boxes and palettes, came out; the girls broke
up into groups of two or three, and started out
in various ways to work. Not o picturesque
spot but had sketchers encamped about it; a
dilapidated set of bars, the scorn of COWS but
the delight of an artist; pile of rocks in an
orchard, the thorn in the flesh % farmer,
who stared open-eyed to find it attractive to
somebody; path through the woods; or q
luxuriant group of tall ferns. The neighbor-
hood was an unworked mine of wealth. One
could not turn in any direction without seeing
charming spot that she loDged to carry away
with her, and the only regret of the enthusiast
tic students was that each one had not two
pairs of hands to work with. Dinner brought
them all home and then came criticism, COM
parison, and much pleasant talk over canvas
and paper. ending-in the Larks' Nest-in
mailing the studies to tho wall, and making
ready for the next days work
Before long some of the daily needs of girl
ish humanity became pressing and party
was made up to visit the ''store' of the neigh
borhood-a barn-like place. with drugs and
dress goods, hardware and groceries, all in one
room.
''Have you straw hats?" asked the first girl.
The clerk was sorry, but they were out of
hats
"What! no hats?" in chorus from the
party who had been seized with an ambition
for broad-rim hats.
81 should like some shoe-buttons," began
the second.
These, alasl they never kept
"Whatl no shoe-buttons?' in one breath
again.
"Please show me some ribbons" spoke up
the third.
The clerk regretted to say that ribbons were
not In stock.
"Whatl no ribbons?" cried the chorus, in
dismay.
Writing paper,sif you please" cried the
fourth, sure that she at least could supply her
wants.
The clerk was embarrassed He began to
have horror of the chorus, and hesitated
whether he had better slip out of a back door,
and let his inquisitors find out for themselves
his stock, or whether he had better laugh. He
decided on the latter just in time, for Peggy
began:
The man shook his head.
"Whatl no rye flour?"
Clip had been looking about, and seeing po-
tatoes, thought struck her. "I say, girls"
she began in eager whispers, "now we're out
here in the woods, and no callers, we might
eat-0nt0nsW
"Onions! onions!' whispered one and an
| other. DELIGHTFUL so we will"
81 lore onions'' cried Clip; and, turning to
| the amused shopkeeper, added, "Please send
| us up bushel."
The man laughed, but again he shook bis
| head
"Whatl no onions? Oh?" and, thoroughly
disgusted with the country store, the party
went out in search of another. After that,
whenever in their rambles, which extended
for many miles around, they came near to a
| store, they invariably went in and asked for
| those articles, expressing their surprise in
| chorus as at first and always ending with the
| demand for onions, which, by-the-way, they
| were never able to get in that land of farms
| and gardens though Mrs. Duncan offered to
| send to Portland for them.