The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1886-11-20
Select STORY.
A PICTURE TO ORDER.

The time is back in "the tifties; the
scene, dingy, old, tumble-down building
in better-days quarter of New York.
Across the front of this smoke-hesrimm-
ed pile is emblazoned legend which, if of
recent origin, must have been put there in
sport 1t runs "Enterprise Building" ;"
The pawn-broker, the tallow-chandler,
and the old elothes-man are in possession
of the ground floor, while the signs adorn-
ing the stairway jambs tell to what mot
ley crew the upper regions have been
abandoned
Within this portal, almost blockading it
with his broad shoulders, stands man Of
type more numerous in the fiftiess than
now. A genuine "Forty-niner red shirt,
corduroys, top-boots, leather belt, broad
hat, sunburnt face.
His great, rough hand is fumbling If
resolutely through his big, tangled beard,
as he regarded intently a sign upon the
stairs which reads: 'iPortraits and Land
scapes Painted. Room 49,"
He has plainly been successful in his
gold-seeking. Even his back shows that.
It is broad well-to-do one-hundred-cents-
ou-the-dollar back. Perhaps he has had
enough of aroughing it," and longs for a
taste of the refined delights denied him in
his exile.
Whatever his intention, he seems half
ashamed of it; he takes hurried glance
up and down the street, and hesitates again
before his resolve is taken, and his heavy
boots go numbering up the stairs.
In little room on the top floor sits a
shabby man, the physical opposite of the
first.
The well-worn books upon the shelves
and the bulging portfolios of "studios" all
about show that he too has been a digger
after treasure but of another kind, and his
face gives evidence that he has found it.
His wide, shadowy eyes see more than
they rest upon, and his high brow teens
with fapcies far above the groveling horde
about him.
Upon the canvas before him his hand
combines the fruits of research, observation
and reflection in results too good to win the
general applause-too perfect to be widely
understood.
His labors have not brought him the
robust health, nor yet the material rewards
of the other.
He is thin and weak and miserahly poor,
Strive as he may with his unbusiness-like,
impractical nature, he can but keep him
self half fed.
The day is bitter cold, and he pauses
often in his work to beat together his blue
fingers, almost as numb and lifeless as the
little, rusty, unused stove in the corner.
How unequally the goods of this world
are divided!
What pity such as this cannot ex-
change of their possessions to the point OF
equalization with that other class repre-
sented by the wearer Of the heavy boots
now numbering up toward him.
What pity-ah, yes, but Fate doesn't
often lend an ear to Pity.
Perhaps he was ruminating somewhat
to this effect when the clump-clqmping OF
the top boots, followed by vigorous bonn
bardment of his door, interrupted him.
He rises and opens the door, starting
half in fear, half with sure at the stall
wart figure before him.
With such model he could paint men.
aG'd mornin', stranger" says the "For-
ty-niner."
aGood morning, come in, the other
replies, holding the door Hospitality open.
aC'n 1 look at the pictures?"
"Certainly."
The visitor steps over the threshold, and
by the time the artist has closed the door
and seated himself at his work, he has gone
around the room, has ''looked" at them and
plainly failed to find something he as plain
" hoped to see.
He stands now and watches the artist
laying the colors on the canvas.
aAh, he says, edon't, care much for
pictures. They don't look like outdoors.
They don't look like the place | want to
see. Say, strangerl could y paint pic
| tur' jist as I'd describe it t'ye, so it'd look
like the very place ?"
s1 am afraid not Words are not read
! lily translated into form and color. The