The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1882-04-19
THE QUAKER ARTIST.

i tell thee now, Richard, that theell
Aever get cent of my money il thee
keeps on with this DEVILS work"
The speaker was Friend Joseph Har.
ris, and he held at arms length small
picture in water colors, the features of
which We're hardly discernible in the
gloom OF the winter morning. Friend
Joseph had been at the barn, as was his
custom, to fodder the cattle and feed
the horses before breakfast, and had
discovered this humble bit of art in a
pook in the granary. He did not have
TO be told that it was his son Richards
work, whose inclination to such ungodly
pursuits had been the distress of his
parents lives.
Full Of suppressed wrath Joseph
burst into the kitchen where the family
were waiting breakfast, and without
preface dlresse his son with the threat
which he considered the most dreadful
ne could use-that of disinheritance. Tt
meant something, too, for in spite of his
plain surroundings Joseph Harris owned
nearly two hundred acres of land worth
easily a hundred and fifty dollars an
acre, ard his visits to the county town on
The first G 'pril of each year were not
to pay in.orest but to receive it. A
tall, straight figure, he was nearing
sixty years OF age, but as vigorous as a
youth, with quick motions and sharp
black eyes, indicating a violent nature
chained for life by the strict discipline
of the Society of Friends.
His son Richard, now turned of twen-
ty-two, was of different mold, short
and stoutly built. His face at first
sight seemed heavy and vacant. but
this was in fact the abstraction of the
dreamer His soft brown eyes, and
hair clustering in thick cnrls over his
low but broad forehead, made amends
4or his somewhat commonplace feat
ares.
The moment his father entered the
kitchen Richard felt that his secret
labor had been discovered, but his
anxiety was more for it than for him
self. He rarely dared face his fathers
anger, for Joseph Harris, like many of
his sect, made up in severity at home
tor.the smooth and passionless exterior
he maintained abroad.
Will thee give it to me, father ?"
said Richard, advancing toward the
outstretehed hand which held the
sketch, while the hands owner contem.
plated it with unspeakable disgust.
Poor little painting It was a frag-
ment of an autumn afternoon, during
which Richard had been huskinQ corn
in "the hill field" and which had
abided in his memory clothed with the
halo of hundred day-dreams. There
was corner of woods, the foliage half
green, half shading into tints of
brown and red. A rivulet leaving piece
of meadow still gay with autumn flow
srs and green with late grass, flowed
ripping and sparkling out of the sun
light into the shade of the dying leaves.
What courage and hope it must havel
Richard followed in thought its waters
as they flowed on to Chester creek and
then to the stately Delaware river, and
far out till they met the mighty ocean
which washes the shores of ali the
world!
And asshe mechanically plunged his
husking knife into the shucks and
turned out the golden ears one after
the other, he humOly took this lesson
to himself, as was his won't and said:
81 too, must have more courage,
trmer hope. Why should not go for
ward ia ray study of art with greater
falth2 must, will " And to fasten
the vow ne had painted two studies of
tbs little piece Of meadow as d constant
reminder, snatching the tlme on First
days and Fifth days, when his father
and mother We're at meeting, and he
and Nose Riddle, the colored man,
were left to look after the stock. One
copy he had sent on a venture to COM
mission house in.New York, the other
We had hidden in the barn.