Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1881-10-15

to life which can be nothing now but
poor and miserable. Failure and pov.
ertyIare.bad enough for myself; will
not drag you down to them. Farewell,
my love, and forget one who never will
forget you-either in life or death.
"PHIIIP."
He thought that death was 'on him
while he wrote. Pfigation-for he WIS
very poor hard work, suspense, excite
ment, disappointment, had done their
work. As he sealed the letter il fell
from his fingers to the floor, and his
aching head dropped heavily on the
table-he had tainted.
~ 4
Next morning certain. picture dealer
on Broadway received visit from a
lady. She asked him had he been at
the exhibition Of the night before, and
had he noticed certain picture. The
dealer confessed that he had not seen IT..
81 am not surprised at that, said the
lady, calmly, "for they have hung it as
if to prevent its being seen. 1t is beau
tiful, however, and desire to purchase
it,"
She handed him a cheek for thou
sand dollars.
"WiIl you transact the business with
the artist for me without suffering my
name to appearP And wish more than
this. 1 want you to do what the exhib-
itors have not done-bring this artists
merit before the public properly-ex-
hibit my picture in your own rooms and
windows, and make it known. Money
is no object, Mr.. Brown-if you will
only buy the picture for me and make
it famous (if you find it worthy after
ward,
The matter was speedily arranged.
Mr.. Brown agreed to do all that was
required of him. He saw the picture
and pronounced it-in spite of the dis
advantages of its position" admi-
rable."
".Tll call upon the artist this after
noon," said he; and so he did.
"Mr. Severn was ill.," the frowsy
servant girl who admitted him informed
him; "and if you're any friend of his,
missus ill be glad" she added, "for
something's got to be done; he's quite
out of his head; a moaning and call
ing for Rose whoever she is-and
there amt nobody to wait upon him
here, poor soul, and missus talks of
sending him to the hospital. II you
know anything about who Rose is,
you'd better send her to him."
Mr.. Brown made his way upstairs to
the sick mans room. Philip lay, as the
girl had described, delirous, and tossing
in fever. Mr.. Brown took in all the
miserable poverty of the room, and in
glance read the artists sorrowful story
he was kind-hearted man, and il
touched him.
"Ee has gone through long and
bitter struggle here" he unused, "and
the way they hung his pi,ture has given
him finishing blow. Poor fellow
So gifted too; it's shame; and now,
when fortune begins to smile on him,
he's too i'll to know it. Has he no
friends, I wonder? And who is RoseY
u,o boDJsonn ununer ,,atpnraca p,ioht
find that out, if tell her his position
she seems to be eccentric and rich"
Just then his eyes fell on letter on the
floor and he picked it up. "To Miss
Rose Ellison" he muttered, reading
the address. "By Jove, the very name! !"
He glanced at the restless figure on the
bed, and light of sudden comprehen-
sion flashed into his shrewd eyes. "I
fancy I've stumbled upon very pretty
little romance here" thought he; "Tll
deliver this letter to her myselfr'
Two hours later poor Philip had been
removed from his garrett to large and
comfortable room, and Rose was in at
tendance by his side. For weeks she
nursed him, as he hovered between life
and death, until one day he slowly
opened his sunken eyes and fixed them,
with the light of reason In them once
more, upon her face. Rose !" he said,
oh, SO family. "Rose-my darlingP
and Rose fell down upon her knees and
thanked God, for she knew that her
lover was restored to her.
"Your picture is sold," she whispered
to him, softly. "Mr. Brown, the
dealer, bought it, and it is to go upon
exhibition in his gallery as soon as the
academy closes. And he has called at
tention to it, dearest; and the papers
have mentioned it with favor; and he
has recommended you among his Gus
toners, and has orders for you, as soon
as you are well enough to work again;
and, oh, Philip, you will be great
artist after all, and you must unsay
those cruel words in your letter. Not
share your life with mel Why, to
whom but to me does your life belong !?
The doctor says that my care has saved
it, So many terrible, anxious weeks I
have nursed you, and will you refuse to
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