The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1883-11-03
THE FACE IN THE MOON. y

We had all observed for some time
that Tom Eaton had been unlike him
self. Originally good-natured sort
of chap, without much facility in paint
inc, to be sure, but with any amount of
ambition, he had pleased us all. The
one or two sharp criticisms on his pic
lures that had been accepted by the
hanging committees and the innumera-
bic reflections he had sustained at their
hands seemed at last to have really
turned his temper. He grew blue,
sOmber, now and again grutf, and sin
gularly loquacious on the subject of his
art. He would crate by the hour on the
cries of painting, and was sometimes
ingenious if obscure. | 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 a 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 awhile; now he is waking to
find he is only an ordinary sort of man
like the rest of us. 1t makes him mad,
or if he is mot mad, he soon will be- if
he goes about with his notions and
talk"
A week or so later Eaton monopo-
lied an evening at the Kit-Kat Club by
giving us his new views on art. Art
meant only portraiture. Everything
else, from still life up to landscape. was
a mere accessory. He really dawtlled
on with his thought, though his words
flew fast enough, and l felt as if he were
killing his friendships as [ glanced
about the room and saw numerous in
dications of suppressed yawns.
1t was so. Gleason Towner said
Eaton has rung his own death-knell
He belongs in an insane asylum, not in
an art club"
81 really think his brain is cracked
suggested Bob Langley. They say he
has an uncle who
But some one broke in with tidings o.
new model, and we dropped Tom
Eaton.
do not believe gave the fellow {
thought again until he CHANGED upon
me the next summer while | was stay
ing in an out-of-the-way village il
Maine, on sketching excursion. One
day in July | stumbled upon Eator
sitting out under his umbrella paint
ing.
Hello, old man! given up por
traits!'' | called, remembering by thu
association of ideas his talk the las
time | saw him.
EsNn +bic ic L.
turned his easel toward me to display
most indifferent figure of an Irisl
woman with a basket in her hand.
He held his brush idly for moment
and then looked up at me quickly.
81 have come here to see you," h,
said, abruptly. 81 heard you wer,
here. viii you go rowing with me to
night? | have something to say to yol
"a secret. | have come all this dis
lance to find you, for say it [ must"
| will confess to vague remem
brance of Eaton's queer ways, but an
not half bad fellow, and was, more
over, trifle tlattered at this proof O
confidence and friendship, so l con
sented.
''At eighth" he asked.
cat eight" | answered.
"Meet me here at this point if yo
will. | shall be busy until then, an
do not care to see you and idly cha
over nothings while my secret choke
in my throat"
He laughed uneasily.
''ln love-" thought l; "and / sha
lie in boat and listen to description
of her beauties and her charms a
night. Heigh-ho!'
AT eight O'Clock precisely l ha
reached the point, but Eaton was thel
before me sitting in the boat, oars
hand, padding about uneasily. +
had pulled off his coat, and as he was
fine. brawny fellow, looked at hi
with some admiration.
"What Hercules you are!'' l erie
"And what a crab, a turtle, are yea
Get in.
As | jumped into the boat, annoy,
by his tone, which was almost savag
l stumbled against his paint-boX and
big hit OF canvas.
'What mc these things doing here
quened, as l sat down in the stern
the boat.