Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1882-06-16
THE QUAKER ARTIST.

with this DEVILS work"
The speaker was Friend Joseph Harris, and
he held at arms length a small picture in
water colors, the features Of which were hard
ly discernible in the gloom Of the winter
morning. Friend Joseph had been at the
barn, as was his custom, 10 fodder the cattle
and feed the horses before breakfast, and had
discovered this humble bit Of art in a nook in
the granary. He did not have to be told that
II was his son Richards work, whose iDclina-
tion 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 addressed his
son with the threat which he considered the
most dreadful he could use-that Of disinher-
itance. 1t meant something, too, for in spite
of his plain surroundings, Joseph Harris own
ed nearly two hundred acres Of land, worth
easily hundred and fifty dollars an acre, and
his visits at the first OF April of each year
we're not to pay interest but to receive it. A
tall, straight figure, he was nearing sixty
years OF age, but as vigorous as youth, with
quick motions and sharp black eyes, indicst-
ing violent nature chained for life by the
strict discipline Of the Society of Friends.
His son Richard, now turned of twenty
two, was of different mould short and stout
ly built. His face at first sight seemed heavy
aud vacant, but this was, in fact, the abstrac-
ton of the dreamer. His soft brown eyes
and hair clustering in thick curls over his low
but broad forehead made amends for his
somewhat commonplace features.
The moment his father entered the kitchen,
Richard felt that his secret labor had been
discovered, but his anxiety was more for II
than for himself. He rarely dared face his
fathers anger, for Joseph Harris like many
of his sex, made up in severity at home for
the smooth aud passionless exterior he main
tanned abroad.
"Will thee give it to me- father ?" said
Richard, advancing toward the outstretched
hand which held the sketch, while the hands
owner contemplated it with unspeakable dis
gust.
Poor little painting It was a fragment OF
an autumn afternoon, during which Richard
had been husking corn in ''the hill field" and
which had abided in his memory, clothed
with the halo of hundred day dreams. There
was a corner of a wood, the foliage half green,
half shading into tints Of brown and red. A
riyuet leaving piece of meadow still gay
with autumn flowers and green with wet
grass, flowed ripping and sparkling out OF
the sunlight into the shade of the dying
leaves. What courage and hope it must have
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 all the world.
And as he mechanically plunged his husk-
ing knife into the shucks and turned out the
golden ears one after the other he humbly
took his lesson to himself as was his wont,
aud said: 81, too, must have more courage,
frmer hope. Why should not go forward
in my study of art with greater faith
I T,,rsm A,,l 20 &l,o, IL bo,l
painted two studies of this little piece OF
meadow as a constant reminder, snatching
the time on First days and Fifth days when
his father and mother were at a 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 a commission house in
New York, the other he had hidden in the
barn.
1t had acquired kind of sanotity to him,
and each tree had become a symbol of some
rebuff or danger he was fated TO encounter in
his future life He had, moreover, described
it to Sibbilla Vernon aud had promised this
sole confidante of his aspirations that he
would bring it over some time and let her see
it, But Sibbilla lived two miles away, and as
her parents were also strict members of meet
ing, who regarded every work Of art as pro
family, this would have to be managed with
due caution.
Richards first impulse, therefore, was to
secure the picture But his father had 9
double cause of displeasure and his anger was
deep. He had agreed to give Richard fourth
share in the profits of the farm, this year, and
not only was this painting business an ungod
ly amusement, but also a waste of precious
time and loss of money. He must be stop
ped.
"rn put it where it deserves to CO. and
Al.
steps from the world and its follies. But the
fire that thou wilt meet will be that which /,
not quenched, and where the worm diett
not"
With these words, which Friend Harri
spoke slowly and with that slight chanting
intonatiou which characterizes the utterances
of the speakers in meeting, the solemnity o.
which was farther increased by the use of tht
formal 'thou" instead of the usual "thee,
he stepped to the kitchen fireplace, where
goodly Gre was burning under the crane, anC
striking the picture against the corner of thC
mantelpiece, tore rugged slit through the
centre and threw the whole into the flames
In a moment it was a shriveled cinder.
There are certain natures whose inherent
strength can only be developed by violen
shock. Full of latent power, their weakness
/ comes from native humility. They distrus
themselves through genuine admiration o
Others Such was Richard Harris. But th
necessary shock had come. He gazed mo
ment at the cinder, his face crimsoned, bu
the severe discipline of the society and th
/ family exercised the sway that it usually does
even on the very young, among Friends.
Father" he said, in low, even tone, &C
repeat what have often told thee l havr
no light that there is evil in painting but a
thee thinks there is, shall bid thee an'
mother farewell, to-day, and seek employ
ment elsewhere. l shall not ask thee for an
share in thy estate"
Taking his hat from the window sill h
passed out of the kitchen door, leaving hi
father speeohless with Rmazement at this re
bellious utteranoe, aud his mother-a poor
weak woman, constantly in misery betwee
carrying out the severe rule of her husband
whom she feared, and yielding to her tender
ness for her boy, whom she loved-wipin
her tears without emitting any sound, eithe
word or sob. AS for the two sisters, they 50
denure and motionless through the Who'll
scene, at heart rather pleased at it, as the
had no sympathy with their brothers tast
for forbidden arts, and thought him queer
wasteful, uncomfortable member OF the house
hold. Moreover, though younger than he
they were not too young TO seq at once tn
pecuniary advantage 10 them of his repuncia
tion of his share of the estate
Richard went toward the barn aud took
seat in nook Of the corn fodder stack this
was built along the side of the barn yard. II
did not feel the cold, raw air of the earl
morning. His mind was too full of the ste
he was about to take, aud what had led up I
it. Now or never he must quit the farm re
nounoe the teachings of the society, thro'
aside the coat with s.anding collar and II
quaint broad-brimmed black hat, give up Il
! plain language, reject the eounsels OF II