Mexico weekly ledger., 1882-12-07
AN ARTISTS DREAM.

AN AhI1SI 3 Uh6AA. /
Carradine sat alone at his easel, paint
ng; and as he painted he thoug ght-
eight years before, when he was q |
,oor and struggling boy, just enter
ng on that race which must be |
'un by every aspirant to art and its |
,onors, there happened to him some
hing which neither time nor toll had /
,ver been able to efface from his men,
,ry. As he was passing along the streets
. wreath of fragrant roses suddenly fell
IN his head, and, looking up in wonder,
,e beheld, reaching out from the en-
oroidered draperies of an overhanging
a child, with fairy-like proper
ions, with great, dark eyes, and long,
curling black locks, who stood smiling
and throwing him kisses from her curv-
I'd lips, colored like pomegranate.-
While she still gazed nurse had come
forward and drawn the child away; the
curtains were closed, and he saw the
little creature no more.
Such was the vision that the artist
had carried 80 long in his memory; in
his memory only, for he had no second
glimpse of the child. That very day an
occurred which kept him q
prisoner in his room for some weeks,
and when next he went out the house
was empty, and placard with great
fiaring letters announcing it for sale
stared him in the face, from the same
window in which the little white-robed
elf had stood waving her hand and smil-
ing to him. In course of time other
faces appeared there, but they were
strange faces and among them was new
er the one for which he looked.
Now, as Carradine sat painting alone,
he thought of all this; of the struggle
that had ended at length in success; of
his hard unfriended boyhood and of the
beautiful child with her fragrant rose
crown, which had seemed almost like q
prophecy. That rose-wreath, dry and
withered now, was all that was left to
him of the fair vision, but when this
morning, in turning over an old portfo-
io, he had come upon it by chance, it
spoke to him of that by-gone day Just as
efoauently as when its blossoms were
fresh and full.
Eight years ago." he said, thought
fully, letting the shriveled circlet slip
through his fingers slowly. "She must be
near Is now-n she lives. Ifp No, I do
not doubt her living presence-some-
where. wonder where she is now and
what she is like at 16?''
With that he placed the wreath be-
side his easel, and began to paint The
face. as it grew on his canvas, presented
q young girl in the dewy morning blush
of first youth, with shadows in the great
dark eyes and half smile about the
bright curved lips, like an embodied
summer sun shower. 1t was thus thai
the artist pictured his ideal of the child
woman, whose infantile look and smile
for eight long years had been his owr
dream of love.
Carradine had not had an easy life
An orphan from his earliest years, poo1
and unfriended, he had striven hard fol
the means to crafty that inherent idol
airy for art which was always clamoring
to find expression in form and coloring
He had fought and he had won; bui
now, at 26, he stood in tn. place which
he had gained for himself almost a
much alone at the very heart as he hae
been eight years before when the child
gift came to him as prophecy.
1t was not that he was friendiess.-
There were men who liked and sough
him, women who would have gladl,.
taught him to forget his loneliness il
their affection. But though his natur
responded readily to any Kindness. Their
was one chord, deeper than all, tina
remained untouched; and, from tn
sweetest glances, his thoughts wen
back to the unknown child that ha
smiled down on him so long ago.
The ideal head became his gree
source of enjoyment, and dreamy sof1
ness shaded his dark-gray eyes, as lin
by line and tint by tint took him bac
into that past, which, all lifeless as
was, seemed to him, in those moments
more real than the busy present. II
now, in reviewing that one bright visio
of his memory, it was not 80 much tt
lovely child that he saw, in fancy,
the beautiful girl whose face. with full
depth and sweetness, looked out at hi
from his own canvas.
Instinctively, he hardly knew VIII
he disliked to work on this picture
any other presence, and he devoted to
only his hours of solitude. So it ha
pened that it was nearly finished whe
by some chance, q friend discovered hi
bending over It. go absorbed to mott
any approach. As the door opene
Carradine rose hastily, turning his eas
to the wall, so as to conceal the ia
upon it. This little stratagem, howevt
was destined to be of no avail Havi
been marked by the intruder-one
those cordial, well-meaning peop
good-natured to a degree. but with lit
delicacy of perception-the action
once aroused his curiosity.
"Aha, master painter" he said. VI
laugh, s.let us see what it is that y
work at by yourself till it steals aw
| YOUR ewes and ears. Only one peep"'
! : With. that, he laid his hand on
frame and receiving no oforbidding We
! from Carradine, turned it round. !
next moment he was loud in praise.
s.But who is it, Carradine2 II it il
portrait tell me where 10 find the
fginal, and will, if it is seven da
iourneyr
Carradine smiled.
'If I myself knew where to find 6,
an original, should not be here to
You my good friend" he answered, G
sively.
a6h, Q fancy SKETCH" said the otf
naisled, as the artist had desired.
might have saved myself the trouble
asking. No real flesh and blood {
ever looked like that-the more sha
, to nature, I say! OF course you will
hibit it, Carradinep''
..No," answered the painter quie
sNor' repeated the other in surpr
"But, my dear fellow. you must,
shall betray your secret, and you
have a swarm of visitors. worse this
plague of Egypt, let in upon you.'
Carradine hesi.ated. A chance "
in his friends speech had suggests
!. possibility that made his heart leap
spite of sober reason.
.You are right" he said. ''! 8
send the picture for exhibition. 1t
be better So"
:. After his visitor had left him al
again Carradine bent long over his 9
gazing into the lovely, upturned I
until C began to fade into the gsthe
twilight.
~ .H-nr' he murmured to him
half unconsciously. "But it cannot
Yet l will send it-and perhaps
And SO the picture was sent, in