Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1883-05-23
A. Parsons Story.

A Parsons Story.
From Pschs Sun.
One evening last week there was q tea party
at the residence Of q deacon, and after supper
the gentlemen went to the smoking
room, and smoked and told stories,
while the ladies visited and exchanged
pieces of silk neckties and ribbons for
making silk quilts. The men got to talking
about the changes that occur in people'sliyes In
few years, and each had some Illustration in
his own experience. The young minister had
been quiet listener, and smoked his cigar In
dreamy sort of way, and when they had all
had an inning telling stories the doctor said to
the minister:
Glider, you must have noticed. as much a.
anybody, the changes that time brings Can't
you tell US something funny in your expert
ence?"
Il was Just thinking" said the Elder as he
threw his cigar stub in the cuspidore and took a
fresh one and Lit it. t'of something that hap
pened to me last winter in Chicago. and will
tell 1t to you to illustrate how added years bring
intelligence to the most Of US, though 1t cannot
bring forgetfulness and to Illustrate also how a
man may be reasonably smart In knowledge Of
the world and not know enough to keep his
mouth shut at the proper time About twenty
hve years ago, when was eight years Of age
u Ii,
lowed to run loose about the neighborhood
You wouldn't believe it to look at me now, but
l was terror. That is, I was full of fun; oh, so
full. was up to all sorts Of mischief, and my
good father and mother feared that would
never amount to much and guess they tear it
now, but that fs neither here nor there.
among my playmates was q little girl of my
own age, q bright little thing with blue eyes
and brown hair, and dimpe in her cheek. II
was terror she was terrOress. She could
climb fence quicker than could, and outrun
me, and wasn't afraid of anything, and We were
the best friends you ever saw. Her name was
Susan. One day we were playing in the back
yard, bare-footed. and something induced us to
go into her fathers barn. In looking around
for something to amuse US found q couple of
pots Of paint that her Tather had been using
about the house. One pot was red and the other
green. We took the brushes and painted the
stalls in the barn red and one wheel of her
fathers wagon green. and finally she suggested
that we paint our feet. So painted one Of
her feet green and the other red and she painted
mine and then rolled up my pants and she
painted clear up to my knees. and then she got
jealous because had more style than she did,
and 80 painted her legs also. but / striped
them, the stripes of alternate green and red
running around like barber pole. Being a
girl, we argued that it was right she should
be more gaudy than me.
''Well, l have seen beautiful paintings since
and have done little with the brush since ar
LIVING uG Iudu cSldGe, UuL nave never seen
anything that gave me the satisfaction, as q
work of art. that the work Of that afternoon In
the studio In the barn did have seen marble
sculpture Of the human form divine In the gal
leries Of the Old and New World since, but
have never seen anything that could hold q
candle to the landscape that painted on Susan.
She was 80 tickled that she had to go right into
the house and show the chrome to her mother,
and it was not more than minute before a SOL
itary horseman, about eight years DID, with one
seen going over picket fence just ahead of
Susans mothers mop. got home alive. and
presented a picture to my mother that she had
never seen in her widest dreams. Paint every
where. And she warmed me, and Susans
mother across the street warmed her, and us
two young artists mingled our cries across the
dusty street.
II need not dwell on the weeks of agony we
endured in having that paint removed There
was some sort Of dryer in the paint that made
clear to the bone. At least it did on me, and
suppose Susan was made of the same kind
OF clay. Any way, all the time we lived in
that<own after that, Susan wore stockings,
and judged she was having the same trouble
l was, being washed every night In benzine.
until I almost wished there was no such thing
as being an artist had almost forgotten the
circumstances In busy life, until last winter,
l was down to Chicago to missionary con-
vention. There were delegates from all over
One evening, after the business of the con-
vention was over, there was reception at
the residence OF one Of the directors of the
society, and was introduced to the wife of q
brother minister. There was something about
her eyes that seemed sort of familiar and finally
she told who she was, and, as sure as am
smoking this fve-cent cigar, it was Susan.
Well, we talked about old times and old friends
Tor long time, and Of the good work her hus-
band was doing out west; but for the life Of me
nj k00r ind oH hot
the paint Here she was, q grown woman; the
glorious eyes she had In youth were even more
beautiful and her smile was enough to break
up prayer meeting, but could only see her as
she looked when l got through painting her.
Becoming familiar, finally said, by the way,
Susan, would like to ask you one question,
and she said Certainly and allowed nv eve
to twinkle little, and asked:
Susan, tell me, did you ever get that paint
"'Sir!' said she, her whole frame showing the
greatest indignation, and just then bald headed
preacher came up. and she turned to me and
said, This Is my husband. Husband, this is an
old friend of my youth; one who knew me when
we went barefooted together
"'Ah, indeed. glad to meet YOU said the
brother. MY wife has often told me about how
you and she used to handle the paint-brush and
transform nature into high art. and-eh, she il
gone looked around for Susan and she had
taken the arm of another minister and gone to
INV ASai ioou1s uAu UclOIc COulU cec
her again she had gone home, and never saw
her after. But for several nights my dreams
were filled with visions of hand painted articles,
barns, Indignant mothers with brooms, benzine
and sweet oil. and pair OF the loveliest eyes
that ever were seen. But here is my wife with
her things on. What, time to 20 home? Well,
good night; but for goodness sake, gentlemen.
don't say that told you about the paint bust
ness"
The FAMOUS STARVATION CLUB was organ
lied In Richmond, Va, when the war was at its
height. The club was SO organized, says q Rich
mOnd correspondent OF the Philadelphia Times,
as to meet almost entirely the demand for enter
tanning the soldiers It met weekly at private
residences. The membership included almost
every young lady and young married lady of
good position (not in deep mourning) in the
city. No cards were issued at all, but 1t was
understood that every member Of the club could
extend an invitation to any stranger or soldier
of his acquaintance visiting the city. The club
night Was as well known to the soldiers in camp
and within nfty or one hundred miles OF
Dsry A. H.