Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1882-01-14
PHILIPS PRIDE.

"You don't seem very glad ofmy
good fortune, Philip" said pretty
Rose Ellison, in disappointed
tone, and with something like q
pout of vexation on her rosy lips
"When first the news came to me
that Uncle George, whom / had
never seen, had died and left me
$40, 900, it was you of whom
thought first of all. 'For'-Said
to myself-'pcverty will no longer
separate usp Surely you knows
she came closer to her lovers side,
and slipped a fair little hand into
his-'surely you know that what is
mine is yours, Phil"
Philip Severn looked down at the
loving, pleading face, and softly ca
ressed her bright hair.
''That cannot be, my darling"
said he, with a hitter sigh. "a
penniless, struggling artist, who
scarcely earns bread and butter yet,
is no match for you-less now, now
that you have this money, than be-
fore. We still must wait until for
tune smiles on me, dear; until am
able to provide home for my
WIFE" Then, noting the tears that
sprang to the tender eyes, and how
the bright smile died: "Don't dis
courage me, my darling; do / not
long to claim you? Is not my life
a lonely one? Don't l long to gath
er my lovely rose, and wear her in
my heart forever, to sweeten and to
brighten life? But / should feel
like a dependent on my wife. 1t
would wound my pride; destroy
my self-respect-we should not be
happy, dear, believe me. 1t is but
for a little while, my darling, he
added tenderly. "The picture on
which / have built such hopes is
almost finished, and it will. it must
bring me wealth and fame. We
will not wait for the wealth, dear /;
only let me see my success assured
and / will come and claim your
promise to be my precious wife,"
IN this hope they parted. The
academy would open in few weeks,
Philip said to Rose, and he worked
night and day TO complete the pict-
ure, which was to be for him the
first step toward success. If it had
depened on his exertion3 alone, that
success would have been assured,
for the merit of the painting was
indisputable; but alas, other people
had too much to do with 1.-THE
committee that decided how the
picture should be hung had the
power to either make or mar his
fortunes. and they marred them.
He walked through the rooms,
looking around eagerly, anxiously
and for a while vainly, too. Surely
he thought, with sickening disap-
pointmentand wildly-beating heart,
surely there had been some mistake
and his paintings were not there.
All! yes-there it was! With diff
ficulty he suppressed a cry of an
guish-there it was; hung up on
high, in an Out-the-way corner, and
in the worst possible light, where
no one would give it any special
notice and he himself had hardly
been able to find it at all he turn
ed away, heartsick and despairing !;
his efforts had been nullified, his
hopes were blasted, his future ruin
ed he went hOme--if his poor gar
ret could deserve the name-and,
half crazed with disappointment, he
wrote to Rose:
"I have failed. 1 refuse to bind
you to a life which can be nothing
now but poor and miserable. Fail
ure and poverty are bad enough for
myself; l will not drag you down
to them. Farewell, my love, and
fnrCrnf rr.hA Exyill fnrfrnf
you-either in life or death.
PHILIP"
He thought that death was on
him when he wrote. Privation-
for he was very poor-hard work,
suspense, excitement, disappoint-
ment, had done their work. AS he
sealed the letter it fell from his fin
gers to the floor, and his aching
head dropped heavily on the table
He had tainted.
Next morning a certain picture
dealer on Broadway received vis-
it from a lady. She asked him had
he been at the exhibition of the
night before, and had noticed cer-
tain picture. The dealer confessed
IIdI SCtu IL.
81 am not surprised at that"
said the lady, calmly, ''for they
have hung it as if to prevent It's be-
ing seen. 1t is beautiful, however
and / desire to puchase it,"
She handed him a check for a
thousand dollars.
"Will you transact the business
with the artist for me without suf-
ering my name to appear? And l
wish more than this. i want you
to DO what the exhibitors have not
done-bring the artists merit before
the people properly-exhibit my
picture in your own rooms and win
dows, 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 wor-
thy afterward.
The matter was speedily arrang-
ed. Mr.. Brown agreed to do all
that was required of him. He saw
the picture and pronounced it-in
spite of the disadvantage of its po-
sition-''admirable."
"I'll call upon the artist this
afternoon" said he; and so he did.
"Mr Severn was ILL.," the frowzy
who admitted him inform
ed him "and if you're any friend
of his, missus III be glad," she add
ed, "for something's got to be done;
he's quite out of his head; a moan
ing and calling for Rose'-whoever
she is-apd there amt nobody to
wait upon him here, poor soul, and
missus talks of sending him to the
If you know anything
about who Rose is you'd better
send her to him."
Mr.. Brown. made his way up
stairs to the sick mans room.
Philip lay, rs the girl had described,
and tossing in fever. Mr..
Brown took In all the miserable pow
erty of the room, and in a glance
read the artists story-he was
man, and it touched
him.
"He has gone through long and
bitter struggle here" he unused,
sand the way they hung his picture
has given him a finishing blow.
Poor fellow! So gifted, too; it's a
shame; and now when fortune be-
gins to smile on him he's too ill to
know it. Has he no friends / won-
der? And who is 'Rose?' His
handsome young patroness might
find that out, if l tell her his posi-