The Arkansaw traveler., 1883-09-15
l" LORD OF ALL.
sY MRS. HERBERT MARTIN.

q in i, in the shape of tourist or cad. An artists paradise, that, 1 believe, hardly any one knows of. It is called Penruth i,'s little fishing village in Cornwall, as 1 need not say. Such models, splendid set of people-such rocks such sea. l don't care twopence about food and drink. can't say they are Elysian, but |, doesn't matter. get some hsh now and then and beas,ly bread but l live on the beauty of nature. Come and do likewise
 In this rap,urous strain Vincent Randall wrote to his artist friends scattered about the world this glorious summer please "a date il as the las, fine summer which can be remembered-in search of the picturesque. Vincent had found Il 10 his hear,'s content. and was revelling in his
 untouched paradise of sea, sky and rock. And il even had the last thing needfal- |. had is Eve. But before the heroine of his idyl appears. let me introduce you to i.acen, Randall. artist. as he chose to de- stibe himself, though as yet his income s:erved from ar; was nothing, plus a con- siderable balance the wrong way in studio and other expenses, nevertheless, you NJaiQ " S0kA- n, him " amateur.
 If have the misfortune to be well o.i. II isn't my fault, he would say, with pathos. " Don't degrade me by calling me an amateur unless you wan, me 10 GU; to pieces every canvas have covered.
 He worked hard and painted well. bu, he had not the divine touch. A, times despair seized him of ever getting beyond the pretty" and he would burn his bes; effort in the madness of the moment of self-disgust He hated the praises of the fhilistnes bu, now and then his sensi- tive and womanishly tender nature shrank from the criticism of the friends who loved him, but saw through the mere talent of his painting, which never could rise above talent. It was a relief some- times to be sitting quite alone al the foot of Mother Nature as she brooded grand and calm over the Cornish solitudes of vividly colored glorious masses of majestic rock. IL calmed and soothed the nervous, impressionable man, whose life was spent Tn fruitless chase after inn possible ideals-ideal beauty such as his mental eyes had never seen, colored with AHS tAdt uSNSt "aS Ou SC1 Oi Shl ideal love such he has had never, might never attain to: ideal honesty of pur- pose, purity of motive, heroism of sac ritice. And with all he had moods of lghtness. humor, reckless bonhomie, which covered all the contradictions and
 the unsa,isfied longing of the mans soul,
 as the sparkles lay on the surface of the Gdrk and restless waters.
 Vincent sat among the rocks painting. or trying to paint, but mood of disgus, at his work had seixed him, ard he was more inclined 10 shake his iis, a, his can vas than 10 paint upon it.
 Wha, foo. one IS 10 attempt any shng. he sad To himself; why not give l, all up and simply take !; in like that bird up there m sure he enioys |; Ill more than io." He go, up and stretched himself He WAS neither tll nor handsome: .here was no.hlns herolC m his appearance he WIS thin and gneagre. his har was beginning 10 be more gray than brown but he looked every inch gentleman and d good :cl- low. As he sge,ched his arms and stamped the pins and needles out of his feet, he sGaaeni} s1s gr sitting op- posl.e him or rock, looking hNedly ou, 10 sea. I'lncen, perceived tha, she was unaware of his presence. He kept per tec,ly still and watched her: |, seemed to hlm he had never seen beautiful wo- man in his life before all his old fancies taded, sine was alone m her beauty before his eyes; as for the res, they were merely pretty. And Vincent desptsed prettiness She was only a peasant girl; her white cotton bonnet lay on the rock beside her. she had a common stuff dress on. but she was simply and perfectly beautiful, the eyes of picture such as is given ,o few to take into their souls. Around her was the setting of the cliffs and rocks: she pools of clear water a, her fee, re- decting a clearer heaven of cloudless blue beyond and away the sea. silvered with Afternoon light. the glamor of high summer, the silence which had it's own music. She was tall. taller ;kan Nincen, himself her hair was burned into kind of brown gold, her eyes were deep and iarge-probably that brown that IS called black her features had that perfection which makes one almost forge, to notice n what II consists. With her beauty there was that strange and indescribable pathos which enters into ones hear, one knows not how or why.
 My las, ideal" Vincen, thought to himself. with a touch of self-scorn If she came nearer to me should find her like the rest of them-another illusion gone" Yet he drank it in, and the sweet idea sank into his foolish heart. As he watched her. her face contracted with an expression of acute pain: she uttered short, sharp sound, neither word nor cry. and stretched out her olasped hands toward the sea. Then she stood on her teet, hastily gathered up what she had dropped, turned and hurried away with the step of one who neither thinks nor cares of where she goes. h another moment Vincents eyes had lss their vision
 He attempted no more painting he collected his paraphemaha and went home for the time being-in the very primitive little inn, the Fisherm an . Rest In eA~ >H k~v .r p~~~vx<h