Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1883-11-25
The Face in the Moon.

[Graeme Murdoch in The Continent
We had all observed for some time that
Tom Eaton had been unlike himself Orig
inally good-natured sort of chap, without
much facility in painting, to be sure, but
with any mount of ambition, he had pleased
US all. The one or two sharp criticisms on
his pictures that had been accepted by the
hanging committees and the innumerable re-
jections ne had sustained at their hands,
seemed at last to have really tur1ed his tenn
per- He grew blue, sombre, now and again
gruff, and siEgularly loquacious on the SUBJ
ject of his art He would crate by the hour
on theories of painting, and was some
times ingenious, if obscure l was
talking to Gleason Towner about him
one day, and Gleason, who deals in
caustic speeches, said: "Sum up Tom
Eaton and he is good example of limited
man with an unlimited ambition He was
supposed to have great talent, and started
out in life under the impression that he was
genius. He lived in this dream for a while;
now he is waking to find he is only an ordi-
nary sort of man like the rest of us. 1t makes
him mad, or if he is not mad, he soon will
be- if no goes about with his notions and
talk"
A week or so later, Eaton monopoized an
evening at the Kit-Kat club by giving us his
new views on art. Art meant only por-
traiture. Everything else, from still life up
to landscape, was n mere accessory. He
really dawdled Oh with his thought, though
his words flew fast enough, and felt as if he
Were killing his friendships as ! glanced
about the room and saw numerous indica-
lions of suppressed yawns.
1t was So Gleason Towner said: 'sEaton
hao, I, l. HI
an insane asylum not in an art club.n
81 really think his brain is cracked sug-
gested Bob Langley. "They say he has an
uncle who"
But some one broke in with tdings of
do not believe 1 gave the fellow a thought
again until he CHANGED upon me the next
summer while was staying in an out-of-the-
way village in Maine, on sketching excur-
sion. One day, in July, l stumbled upon
Eaton sitting out under his umbrella, paint
ing.
Hello, old mani given up portraits!' 1
called, remembering by the association of
ideas his talk the last time | saw him.
No, this is portrait, )" and he turned his
easel toward me to display most Indifferent
hand
He held his brush idly for a moment, anu
then looked mp at me quickly
Il have come here TO see you. - he said alb
ruptly Il heard you were here. WIN YOU
60 rowing with me tonight, / have some
thing 10 say 10 you--a secret. [ have come
all this distance to find you, for say it I
must
will confess 10 vague remembrance of
Eaton'S queer ways, but am not half a bad
fellow, and was, moreover u trihe BATTERED
at this proof OF confidence and friendship, 50
| consented
AT y" he asked.
AT s. | answered
Meet ne here at this point if you will
shall be busy until then, and do not care to
see You and idly chat over nothings while my
secret chokes in my throat
He laughed uneaSily.
in love, - thought l ''and shall lie IN a
boat and listen 70 descriptions of her beau
Ties ana her charms all night. Heigh-hom
AT o'clock precisely had reached the
point, but Eaton was there before me sitting
in the boat, oars in hand, padding about un-
easily. He had pulled off his coat, and rs he
was fine, brawny fellow, looked at him
with some admiration.
What 4 Hercules you arel" cried.
And what crab, a turtle, are you'll Get
in
As jumped into the boat, ANNOYED by his
tone, which was almost savage, | stumbled
against his paint box and a big bit of canvas.
What are these things doing herer' I
queried, as sat down in the stern of the boat.
They so where | go,n he replied They
are my tools
We did not speak for some time Eaton
pulled hard and fast, and lay back with NV
hands under my head and looked up at the
sky. 1t was Just before moonriSe, and the
heavens We're in their golden glorious expect
ancy. did not care TO break the silence. The
secret Of the night was grander and more in
tereSting than any petty human confidence
could he Eaton spoke first.
''N Oh are not curiouSiH
Il beg your pardon; am ready"
He was silent again for few moments
Il am going TO oe great painter" he said,
abruptly.
All, 1t was not q love secret then!
But TO accomplish my end I must take
terrible means. | must condemn myself TO
years OF agony. 1 must condemn also an
other being TO briefer but very horrible
torture"
Then it must be love story, after ALI
''HeSf replied, as he paused. putting as
much expression as 1 could into the words.
My mind. curiouSly enough, ramblei back
to another mOOnlit night when was quite 9
lad, and when l sat in the stern of a host
with such a beautiful little girl, Anita GRAY
son by name, child of u, perhaps. Some
enc sitting by nad said. Anita looks like the
moon, and had watched her during the rest
of the evening and wondered why, and gone