The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1882-03-30
THE QUAKER ARTIST,

81 tell thee now, Richard, that thee'll
never get a cent of my money if 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, tho features oI
which were 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 9
nook in the granary. He did not have
to be told that it was his son Richard s
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 ad lressf his son with the threat
which be considered the most dreadful
he could use-that of disinheritance. 1t
meant something, too, for in spite of his
plain surroundings Joseph Harris owned
nearly two hundred a"res of land worth
easily hundred and fifty dollars an
acre. and his visits to the county town on
the first of April of each year were not
to pay interest but to receive it. 4
tall, straight figure, he was nearing
sixty Years of age but as vigorous as q
youth, With quick mo,ions. and sharp
black ewes 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 butt. 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 curls over hi,
low but broad forehead, made amends
for his somewhat commonplace feat
ures.
The moment lis father entered the
kitchen Richard felt th It his secret
labor had been discovered. but his
anxiety was more tor 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
for the smooth and passionless exterior
he maintained abroad.
I" VIII thee give it to me, father ."
said Richard, advancing toward the
outstretched hand which held the
sketch, while the hands owner contem-
plated it with unspeakable disgust.
Poor little painting 1t was frag-
ment OF an autumn afternoon, during
which Richard had been husking corn
in "the hill field" and which bad
abided in his memory clothed with the
halo Of hundred day-dreams. There
was corner of a woods, the foliage half
green, half shading into tints of
brown and red. A rivulet leaving piece
of meadow still gay with autumn flow
ers 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 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 tho mighty ocean
which washes the shores of all the
world.
And as he mechanically plunged his
husking knife into the shucks and
turned out the golden ears one after
the other, he humbly took this lesson
to himself, as was his wont, and said:
81, too, must have more courage.
firmer hope. Why should not l go for
ward in Iny study Of art with greater
faith? I must, will" And to fasten
the VOW ne had 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 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
he had hidden in the barn.
1t had acquired a kind of sanctity to
him, and each tree had become a SYM
Dol of some rebuff or danger he was
fated to encounter in his future life.
He had, moreover, described it to Sib-
billa Vernon, and had promised this
sole contidante 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 meeting, who
regarded every work of art as profanity,
this would have to be managed with due
caution.
Richards first impulse, therefore,
was to secure the picture. But his
father had double cause of displeas-