Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1882-06-14
LINDA'S LEGACY.

|
LINDA'S LEGACY.
1t was one of those strong affections
which sometimes exist between the old and
the young, and which seems to shake the
theory of natural inheritance. For old
MIR. Walters was much more like Linda's
father-or grandfather, for the matter of
that-than was her own legitimate progen-
itor and the love between the two would
have afforded a capital theme for dis.
course on the power of elective affinity.
Both were artists old Mr.. Walters being
master in the craft whereof Linda was but
an humble beginner and part of the tie
between them was the old mans desire to
see his favorite's professional improvement,
and the consequent lessons which he gave
her on the management of her colors and
the laws of perspective. 1t was thus
double bond-master and pupil, father and
daughter and on either side it was equally
strong.
81 will always be your friend, little
Linda" Mr.. Walters used to say. When
| die you shall find ! have not forgotten
you. 1 have not much to leave, but you
shall come in for your share with the rest.
But whenever he spoke like this Linda
would begin to cry, and protest that she
wanted nothing to do with his property,
and did not care TO be remembered in his
will. "Only say" she used to sob, "that
I have been a good and obedient daughter
to you, and that l never made you angry"
For Mr.. Walters was peppery- tempered
old gentleman, and had the knack of quar-
reling with his best friends for word or a
look. He was the Boanerges of his society,
and his thunder was formidable. But
Linda had somehow learned the secret of
keeping peace with him, and never since
their first acquaintance had there been q
cross word between them.
Things went on comfortably enough for
some years, when, one summer-Linda
being away nursing sick sster-it is to
be supposed the heat mounted to the old
masters BRAN, for he broke out like a tor.
nado against certain Mrs. Law, and the
qurrel became so embittered, and the old
man put himself 60 much in the wrong by
his passion and violence, that he was forced
to leave Fairfield and go over to Tours,
where his family and certain of his friends
lived. For he had wife and children
all the time; only, for sundry reasons
which may well be imagined and need not
be particularized, he and they found it
more agreeable to have the sea between
them than TO live under one roof. Now,
however, when his own home had tumbled
about his ears, he was forced to rub should
ers with theirs. And SO it came to pass
that, Linda being still held by her duty to
her sick sister, these two dear friends never
met again, and only letters of adieu took
the place of the daughterly devotion and
fstherly protection which had been the rule
of life between them.
At Tours lived certain obscure, but
ambitious, and, for the matter of that, &C.
centric painter called Maze. This worthy
had ideas, truly. but he expressed them in
such hideous colors and with such extra
ordinary contortions of lines and limbs,
| that very few could understand what his
pictures meant when they were done. He
called them one thing, but they might as
well have been another-anything, in fact,
you liked to say-without much loss to
sense or probability. They did not sell,
but Maze always asserted that one day
they would, and that even now other men
borrowed from them.
! Mazs and Mr. Walters were what the
world call friends. In spite of the old
masters temper he had the power of at
| ptOpic W stTNlCt, Wlllc al
painters of note or aspiration clustered
around him like devotees around shrine.
His talk was full of valuable information
on his art, and his professional criticisms
were of such account, that to be able to
say" Walters told me to do this
Walters praised that"-was of itself as
good as diploma of merit. And Maze was
a man who, of all others, knew his best
oi faaI;pcy frrnruAc and hny 10 oaA
his own hay in the sunshine of another's
intellect.
Among the few things of value which
Mr.. Walters had to leave were certain rare
old bits of plate which he had picked up
at curiosity shops and the like. He was
fond of goldsmith's work, and he prided
himself on his Judgment perhaps little
more than it deserved. To hear him, he
had as many cups and vases by Cellini as
all the rest of the world taken together
aud he even insisted on michael An.
gelos" when the work was specially coarse
he called it broad-and asserted, with
out fear of contradiction, that he could see
the great masters touch here on this silver
| fiagon as well as on the ''Moses or the
Pieta" All the same, the collection was
valuable one and who was to have the
reversion was a matter OF anxious specula-
| tion among the friends. To none was it so
anxious as to Mr.. Maze, the obscure, am
bilious, eccentric and impecunious genre
painter at Tours.
When the time came for the old man
TO 90 over to the majority, and while
he had still stresgth enough to
arrange his affairs according to his will
he called Maze to him and said,
Maze, you have been uncommonly civil
and attentive TO me and, by the Lord,
sir, | am half inclined to believe that you
are sincere"
"Make the half whole, Mr.. Walters, and
then you will square the circle, said Maze,
who affected as much oddity in his speech
as in his painting.
"Well, / will am going to trust you,
said Mr. Walters. tBring me that box,
there in the corner, and take out what you
| find in it. One, two, three, four" he
added, as Maze took out one by one those
bits of rare old plate which the master had
picked up with SO much enthusiasm, cher
ished with 80 much care and the revision of
which was matter of so much anxious
| thought to so many friends. Now pack
these carefully and address the box to my
little daughter Linda. The others l give
to Dashe and Star.
eyes, sir" said Maze, glibly as to
tongue, heavily as to heart; for nothing
was assigned to him--not a cup, not vase
and he had spent his time and come OF
his not over fat substance in earwigging the
old gentleman, hoping for substantial So
| latium when all was over. And now he
saw himself cut out by little girl whom
he did not know and of whose friendship
with the master he was, as well as some
others, mortally jealous.
"Dear little Linda !" said Mr.. Walters,
family " she was always good and du.
tiful daughter to me; she never angered
me, never crossed me, and | want her to
have something by which to remember her
old father to the end of her life. Are
those cups well packed, Maze ?"
Yes, sir I; perfectly.
No chance OF being bruised or battered
or shaken out by the way mo chance OF
those thieves of the Custom house putting
their rowing fingers in, to the pulling out
a stray plum-hey %
"No, sir, / have done them up as care
fully as if they were for myself, " said
Maze.
it all for my little girl-see that she gets
them safe and sound and in the state in
which they are now 2
81 will see to it all, Mr.. Walters; you
may rely on me, said Maze.
" 1t will be worse for you if you do not
do your duty, said the old man. Mark
my words, Maze-worse for you"
| "Yes, sir, said Maze, submissiyely
and with that the old master turned his
face to the wall and died. The last act of