The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1883-11-03

terror, and was more than half out of
nv senses as | watched my Charon Law
me on the hither side of his stream.
He took me from the boat as if / had
been child. Then he built fire.
II can mix colors by freight he
cried, and christening my hands set his
canvas and easel before me, gave me a
brush and babe me begin.
For the life of me, and in spite of the
threatened death so near at hand,
could but feel an interest in the freak.
81 must do it in grays or browns.
Tt must be monochrome, or we
shall ruin it, 1 spoke impatient
". So I did it in grays. The
tut of black rock, the waves, the moon
resting on the waves, and little Anita's
face, with the half-solemn, half-smiling
look upon it,
Thesstrange scene, the maniac beside
me, nv own former fear and present
excitement and the stirring of my fancy
cave me a certain fictitious strength. In
less than an hour, as | should think, L
had finished my sketch. 1t was GER
tainly weird and, as it seemed to me,
strong. In the distance half suggested
the boat, and two men in it, one gazing
eagerly toward the moon and the face,
and the otherlying in the stern, his arms
over his head, his eyes toward the
heavens. The boat and the men were
small and well in the shadow. ~ ~
Bravo bravo" cried Eiip1$f r Tssl sns In
touch it again! Give lush!
Here;' and snatching it f. ..-s44 4 I ,l,s.gfiss
he wrote his name, Thomas Eaton"
in bold black letters under the boat.
"This is my work, remember--mine, not
yours. 1t will be great success, and
you'-he paused and looked at me-
''you have saved your life.' Saying
which he jumped into his boat with my
sketch, laughed harsh, bleak sort of
laugh, and rowed away around the ledge
of rock.
For few moments sat still thinking
it over-the strange, ridiculous, yet al
most tragic scenes. II am not sure that
little Anita didn't save my life after
ALL thought to myself.
1t did not take me long to get out of
my close quarters, but the walk home
over the dreary, rough coast was long,
and it was late before l reached the vii
lage. What q strange, eerie walk it
was, with the sea charging the moist air,
and the moon contracting and expand
ing before my eyes through the mist
that had risen. Anita shared the walk
with me.
found a telegram telling me of my
Baden. and I was busy packing and
driving through the chill, early morn
ing toward the nearest railway station,
so that | had no chance to look up
Eaton. | remember that | told my
driver something about an artist, a
friend of mine who had turned up, who
seemed wrong in his mind and ought
to be looked after. / believe wrote a
line to the same effect to Gleason.
know l meant to do so. But the anXi-
Gus voyage and more anxious weeks in
Europe put all other thoughts from my
mind.
1t was after my fathers death late in
the fall that / sailed for home. Taking
up q paper that came out on the pilot
boat l saw the notice of the Salmagundi
exhibition. Coupled with it was an an
nouncement of the death of poor Tom
Eaton, who had died in a mad-houSe
the week before. ''An unsuccessful
but painstaking artist" the review
went on to say, cit is somewhat sur
prising that the only work he has left
of any strength should be now hung at
the black and white exhibition. This
sketch was made after his madness was
fairly upon him. This picture is in
grays, oddly-colored, but in compost
ton and drawing quite full of certain
weird power. Not to be too funny at a
dead mans expense, this gives the
poor fellow good send-off at any rate,
as a friend of his remarked the other
day. The picture, taken in connection
with the tragic death of the artist, has
created some little stir, more particu-
larly as the face in the sketch is strik-
ingly like that of young Boston beauty
who is making her debut in New York. y
So poor Eaton was dead, and his
picture-my picture-was a success,
and-Anita had lived in Boston when
she was twelve!
| hurried to the black and white
that very afternoon, and found quite
group collected about my picture
Eaton's picture. I laughed somewhat
nervously as l stood before it. Some
one behind me spoke. 1t was Gleason.
"You needn't laugh, man. | am glad
to see you back, by the way. There is
some force in that, and l am glad fol
poor Toms sake that he has left this
sketch behind him. l give you my
word | had no idea he could do as we'll
He couldn't have while he was sane
Every one is surprised. How are you!
You look pale. Have you come back
to stay?" etc, etc. fingered around
for awhile, and found myself back
again and again before my picture
Eaton picture-the picture never tc
be claimed as mine now. 1t CHANGED
| had told the story to no one. There
had been no opportunity. Now, o.
course, | never must. AS / stood look
ing at it, and somewhat moved per
haps more by the remembrance of tina
night than by anything actually before
my eyes, two girls and an elderly wo
man approached and stopped.
at certainly is like her, mamma;
wonder if she will see it herselfP 1t i
quite time she were here, by the by. Sh
promised to meet us at three, you
know"
Il don't think it does her Justice. ;