The Middlebury register and Addison County journal. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1883-1885, 1884-02-08
THE WOOD CHOPPER.

GU are really TOO pad, d0raCe!' ana
touch of the whip to Whitefoot's sides
emphasized Godfrey Howell's impatient
exclamation.
His companion started from his rever-
les, and with good natured laugh
asked, "Why 2"
Why2 Have we not been riding
side by side for nearly three hours, and
have you not been mute as a fish all the
time I've suggested opera. the weather,
the state of the nation, and various other
original topics in vain; even slightly
disparaging remark upon the fair
Clemmie's beauty only called forth a
lazy Do you think so p"
"Why should l be Miss Ryan's de-
fender %
"You admired her last winter"
ooh, yes, as lately as this spring but
an accident revealed to me so hollow and
heartless "A nature beneath her fair face,
that | felt my admiration die instantly.
Oh. Godfrey, are there any real and true
women left ~
Sweet, innocent creatures composed
Of all the domestic virtues bound in
milling calico! Pray, were you dream
Ing of such one in your long reverie 2"
"No; was thinking"
So imagined. Come, out with it
am quite curious to hear what formed
the subject of your thoughts"
Z" / must go back a little to make you
quite understand why they were so en-
crossing. You may have heard that my
uncle, who adopted me when | lost my
parents, was an eccentric, indeed-some
said-almost crazy man. And he GER
'ainly had very peculiar notions Among
these was fixed aversion to authors ac-
tors, painters. sculptors, and-I am quot
ing his words other gentlemen vaga-
bonds. You may. then, imagine his
fury when | declared my intention of be-
coming an artist. Every threat in the
English language, every sort of abuse
was poured out upon my devoted head
to try and move me; but | felt that
higher power had placed the longing in
my soul for my happiness, and l was
resolutc. Then cntrcaties harder to resist
than the threats, were tried but my own
convictions of the true aim of my life
were not to be shaken. l had my little
Inheritance from my mother, and,
by care, | could make that
cover the expenses of my education,
So the threat to disinherit me was power
less like all the rest, and | sailed for
Italy, firmly determined to return an
artist. There had been strong love be-
tween my uncle and myself. | honored
his good qualities, and was willing, for
their sake to humor his whims; and |
was the only child of his only sister,
whom he loved devotedly. SO when |
returned he sent for me, and in his own
queer way made bargain with me. If
| will paint him one good picture, get
it admitted to the academy, draw the
prize, and sell it for enough to prove that
my art will not beggar me, he will for
give me all my obstinacy and take me
home again "
"Wcll, where is the difficulty? You
have painted pictures worthy of place
in the academy, and, if | mistake not,
sold them too"
"They were all either portraits or his
torical subjects. For this, my greatest
effort, | want something new, something
original. Historical subjects arc so hack
neyed, and don't want to be represented
in the catalogue by Portrait of "a lady,
/ was thinking over, for the hundredth
time, all the subjects that have yet sug-
gested themselves, when you spoke to
me-
Look" cried Godfrey, refining his
horse and pointing forward with the
whip; there is "a subject"
Through the broken gateway, which
led from the road to a cottage, Horace
saw his picture. The background was
the stone wall Of the house, and the sur
roundings were pile of wood gate,
and the soft, green grass Knecling upon
the largest log, with both chubby hands,
to raise the heavy AK, was child, whose
white, polished limbs and lovely face
were fair enough to rouse any soul to adj
miration. The dark blue dress of wool
len fabric was scant enough to leave the
dimpled shoulders and arms bare, and
the plump, white foot had neither shoe
nor stocking to hide its splendid beauty.
Dark chestnut curls, escaping from
scarlet hood, shaded bright face whose
large dark eyes were raised as the little
one stood motionless, looking at the car
rage and the two ''city gentlemen"
"Lotte! Lottie you little romp,
where are you"
The child started as the voice came
| floating out at the open window above
| her.
'I'm down here, chopping wood"
A sweet bright face came out among
the roses which surrounded the window,
and then, with a merry laugh, the sister
cried:
sob! Lottie you naughty grip and