The Arkansaw traveler., 1882-12-17
Taking the Editors.
Broonyn Eagie.,

Taking the Editors- l Brootiyn Eagie. F :E l He was an exoeedixz TT o6u1Ip. looking indindnaL His knir fGIn IT teavy I masses czer his shouldezs apd | very broad sIOuched hal covered his large head. A dark green cloak cane almosi to his heels, and he carried under one arm a large portfolio, camp-stool and q folded easel He entered the editorial rooms with a confident stride, opened his camp-stool and proceeded 10 ng his easel in front of, Then he pulled out large piece of drawing paper from his portfolio, and, skipping ii on the easel, seated him. self before i; ard commenced leisurely sharpening stick of charcoal
 Whom do you wish to seer asked the office boy, approaching the pietur- esque object cautiously. and keeping his hand within reach of an inkstand
 |" Everybody" calculated the visitor. hourishing his charcoal gracefully in the air. and smiling a pre-Raphaelitc smile upon the suspicious boy. "I'm the light ming portrait artist, and wish to show the distinguished members of the EagL staff how do ii. Only take five minutes to sitting. lust let the gentlemen know I'm here, please and he threw his hat carelessly upon the floor at his side i- What's up@ asked the dramatic ed- itor, coming to the door of his room.
 As you are" cried the artist, catching sight of the editor. and commencing to sketch rapidly upon the paper before him Don't move. Excellent pose. Jus, the style of head to delight the soul of the lover of the truly antique The young Augustus come to life. Head shade to the Jeff, please. An. that's it
 When did it blow in 5' asked the dra- matie editor, stepping forward and gazing curiously at the artist.
 Stop" cried the artist You will ruin everything. Another pose gone wrong.r and he threw down his charcoal and sighed.
 What's the row ?" asked the city edit or. coming to his door.
 "Ah. my ida et last cried the artist, whisking another yheet of paper from his portfolio. :" Head littie back. please Eyes slightly turned toward the ceiling" - What does !, want, anyway asked the city editor stepping forward
 beg of you. sir.' said the artist dashing at his sheet of paper. Jus, five minutes as you are. and you are immor- tai for life
 lust a, this moment the court reporter saun,cred m.
 An. Wilde. old man" cried the artist, catching sigh, of him. really beg your pardon !: likeness SO strong to my friend. Sir. you shall be my tes, sitter lust lean against tha, desk over there. Gross your limbs throw your arms behind you and keep your eyes on that ink bottle over there"
 Where did il drop from = asked the court reporter. and by this time little group of editors and reporters stood gag ing ouriously upon the artist, Gentlemen. said the artist running his fingers throush.his long:hair and lean ing back in his camp stool I am the lightning portrai, artist. Give me five minutes of your time and you are famous for life. Won't charge you a cent lust wish to make myself solid with the press.
 '' Suppose VIC give the crank show" said the police reporter.
 Only nve minutes each, gentleman, and we will have gallery of portraits to be proud of. said the artist.
 ''He's good taffy singer" said the dramatic editor.
 ''lts way those artists have" said the art critic, looking vey skeptica ally a, the visitor =. I'll bet you ten to one he uses solar prints. ''------------- ---------'----------------
 Take your bet said the ar,is, ..You might be more picturesque. but you'll do as starter. lust sling off your overcoai and hat and I'll show you specimen of free-hand drawing"
 Never accept anything bu, oil paint ings, said the art critic.
 Suppose you give nc sitting" said the artist turning ,o the society reporter.
 Couldn't think of sitting to any one shoft of Daniel Huntington said the re- porter.
 An, heres our sitter said three or four of the group. as the cashier entered the office.
 Delighted said the artist, Rather modern. bu, good form. Not exactly cs- the,ic. Might be little more Fioren- tine curve of line. but
 Not this morning. sorne ether morn ing" said the cashier.
 Tell you what you do. said the sport ing editor. Il have 4 perfect beauty in the way of a bull pup. White with brindle eye. m just let you have couple of Ns for good portrait of that" But the artist gathered up his traps and s,alked ma.estioally out of the office -~>~ Why They Desert.