The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1883-01-18
Taking the Editors.

ne was an exceedingly plCluitSiio-
looking individual. His hair fell in
heavy masses over his shoulders, and
very broad slouched hat crowned his
large head. A dark green cloak came
almost to his heels, and he carried un-
der one arm large portfolio, camp
stool and folded easel. He entered
the editorial rooms with confident
stride, opened his camp-stool and pro-
ceeded to rig his easel in front of it.
Then he pulled out a large piece of
drawing-paper from his portfolio, and,
slapping it on the easel, seated himself
before it and commenced leisurely
sharpening stick of charcoal.
'.Whom do you wish to see?' asked
the office boy, approaching the pictur-
esque object cautiously, and keeping his
hand within reach of an inkstand.
Everybody" calculated the visitor,
fourishing his charcoal gracefully in the
air, and smiling pre-Raphaelite smile
upon the suspicious boy. ''Tn the
lightning portrait artist, and | wish to
show the distinguished members of the
Eagle staff how l do it. Only take five
minutes to sitting. Just let the gentle
men know I'm here, please" and he
threw his hat carelessly upon the floor
at his side.
whats up?'' asked the dramatic
editor, coming to the door of his room.
"As you are" cried the artist, catch
ing sight of the editor, and commencing
to sketch rapidly upon the paper before
him. Don't move. Excellent pose.
Just the style of head to delight the soul
of the lover of the truly antique. The
young Augustus come to life. Head a
shade to the left, please. An! that's it. "
"When did it blow imp asked the
dramatic editor, stepping forward and
gazing curiously at the artist.
.'Stop!' cried the artist. You win
ruin everything. Another pose gone
wrong" and he threw down his char
coal and sighed.
Whats the row?" asked the city
editor, coming to his door.
"Ah! nv ideal at last cried the
artist, whisking another sheet of paper
from his portfolio Head a little back,
please. Eyes slightly turned toward
the ceiling"
What does it want, anyway?n asked
the city editor, stepping forward.
.! beg OF you, sir" said the artist,
dasling at his sheet of paper. '.iust five
minutes as YOU are, and you are i'm
mortal for life"
just al this moment the court report
er sauntered in.
"Ah, Wide, cid man." cried the ar
tist, catching sight of him, ''really beg
your pardon; likeness SO strong to my
friend. Sir, you shall be my test sitter.
just lean against that desk over there.
Gross your limbs; throw your arms be-
hind you and keep your eyes on that
ink bottle over there"
.'NThere did it drop from?n asked the
court reporter, and by this time little
group of editors and reporters stood
gazing curiously upon the artist.
Gentlemen said the artist, running
his fingers through his long hair and
leaning back in his camp-stool, Il am
the lightning portrait artist. Give me
6vo 1s,inntnS of your +;,,,n o,.I .-e>. ..ro
famous for life. Won't charge you n
cent. Just wish to make myself solid
with the press
Suppose we give the crank show"
said the police reporter.
"Only five minutes each, gentlemen,
and we will have a gallery of portraits
to be proud Of" said the artist.
He's a good taf1y Singer" said the
dramatic editor.
Its way those artists have" said
the art critic, looking very skeptically
at the visitor; ''I'll bet you ten to one
he uses solar prints.
Take your bet," said the artist.
"You might be more picturesque, but
you'll do as a starter. Just sling off
your overcoat and hat and I'll show you
specimen of free-hand drawing
"Never accept anything but oil paint
ings." said the art critic.
Suppose you give me sitting" said
the artist turning to the society reporter.
Couldn't think of sitting to any one
short of Daniel Huntington, said the
reporter.
''Ah, here's our SITTER" said three or
four of the group, as the cashier enter
eG JDe once.
Delighted" SAID the artist. 'Rather
modern, but good form. Not exactly
aesthetic. Might be q little more Floren-
tine curve of line, but
Not this morning, some other morn
ing" said the cashier.
Tell you what You do" said the
sporting editor. 81 have a perfect
beauty in the way of @ bull pup. White
with brindle eve. tn Just let you
have couple of rs for GOOD portrait
of that" But the artist gathered up
his traps and staiked majestically out of
the office. Brooklyn Eagle.