The examiner. (Hartford, Conn.) 1881-188?, 1886-07-03
THE PHOTOGRAPH EABIT.
A Humorous and Pathetic Sikcfch by
Rfls


No doubt the photograph habit, when
once formed, is one of the most baneful
and productive of the most intense suffer
ing in after years of any with which we
are familiar. Some times it seems to me
that my whole life has been one long
abject apology for photographs that have
shed abroad throughout u distracted
country.
Man passes through seven distinct
stages of being photographed, each one
exceeding all previous efforts in that
line.
First, he is photographed Us q prattling-
bald-headed baby, absolutely destitute of
eyes but making up for this deficiency by
wealth of mouth that would make a
negro minstrel green with envy. We
often wonder what has given the average
photographer that Wild, hunted look about
the eyes and that joyless sag about the
the knees. The chemicals and the indoor
life alone have not done all this. 1t is the
great nerve tension and mental strain
used in trying to photograph squirming
and dark red child with white ewes, In
such manner as TO please its parents.
An old-fashtoned dollar store album,
with eerebro spinal meningitis, and filled
with pictures of half-suffocatcd children
In heavenly-white starched white dresses
is the first thing we seek on entering Il
home, and the last thing from which we
reluctantly part.
The second stage on the downward road
is the photograph of the boy with the
fresh-cropped hair, and in which the
stiff and protuberant thumb takes lead
ing part.
Then comes the portrait of the lad
with strongly marked freckles and q look
of hopeless melancholy. With the aid of
a detective agency l have succeeded in
running down and destroying several of
these pictures, which were attributed to
me.
Next comes the young man, 81 years Of
ag, with his front hair plastered
down oyer his tender, throbbing dome of
thought. He does not care SO much about
the expression on the mobile features, SO
long as his left hand, with the new ring
on it, shows distinctly and the string of
jingling, jangling charms on his watch
chain, including the cute little basket cut
out of peach stone, stand out well in the
foreground. If the young man would
stop to think for u moment that some day
he may become eminent and ashamed of
himself, he would hesitate about doing
this. Soon after, he has tin-type taken,
in which young lady sits in the alleged
grass, while he stands behind her with his
hand lightly touching her shoulder as
though he might be feeling of the thrill
ling circumference of a buZz-saW. He car
ries this picture III his pocket for months
and looks at it whenever he may be IN
observed.
Then, all at once he discovers that the
young lady's hair is not done up that way
any more, and that her hat doesn't seem
to fit her. He then in a tickle moment,
has another tin-type made in which an
other young lady, with more recent hat
and later couture, is discovered holding
his hand in her lap.
This thing continues till one day he
comes into the studio with his wife and
tries to see how many children can be
photographed on one negative by holding
one on each knee and using the older ones
as background.
The last stage in his eventful career,
the old gentleman allows himself to be
photographed, because he is afraid he may
not live through another long, hard win
ter, and the boys would like a picture of
him while he is able to climb the dark,
narrow stairs which lead to the artists
room.
Sadly the thought comes back to you in
after years, when his grave is green in the
quiet valley, and the worn and weary
hands that have toiled for you are forever
at rest; how patiently he submitted while
his daughters pinned the clean, stiff,
agonizing white collar about his neck and
brushed the little flakes of "dander'
from the velvet collar of his best coat how
he toiled up the long. dark, lonesome
stairs, not with the egotism of half Gen.
fury ago, but with the light of anticipated
rest at last in his eye; obediently as he
would 60 to the dingy law office to have
his will drawn, he meekly leaves the out
lines of his kind old face for those he loved
and for whom he SO long labored.
1t is picture at which the thoughtless
may smile. but it is full of pathor, and
eloquent for those who knew him best.
His attitude is stiff and his ceat lunches
up in the back. but his kind old heart as
serts itself through the gentle eyes, and
when he has gone away at last we do not
criticise the picture any more, but beyond
the old coat that lunches up in the back,
and that lasted him SO long, we read the
history of noble life.
Silently the old finger-marked album,
lying so unostentatiously on the equity
center table, points out the mill-Stones
from infancy to age, and back of the mis-
takes of the struggling photographer is
portrayed the laughter and the tears. the
joy and the grief, the dimples and the
gray hairs of one mans life time.
The Bell of Justice.
It is beautiful story that in one Of the
old cities of Italy the King caused a bell
10 De Qung IN n lower III Ono OI Inc puDuC
squares. and called it the s'bell Of justice"
and commanded that any one who had
been wronged should go and ring the bell,
and SO call the magistrate OF the city, and
ask and receive justice. And when, in the
course of time, the lower end of the bell
rope rotted away, a wild vine was tied to
it to lengthen it; and one day an old and
starving horse that had been abandoned
by its owner and turned out to die, wan
dered into the tower, and in trying to eat
the vine rang the bell And the magis-
trate of the city, coming to see who rang
the bell, found this old and starving
horse; and he caused the owner of the
horse, in whose service he had toiled and
been worn out, to be summoned before
him, and decreed that as this poor horse
had rung the bell of justice he should have
justice, and that during the remainder of
the horses life his owner should provide
for him proper food and drink and stable.
Four Years of Faithful Service.
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