The examiner., 1886-01-02
THE ARTISTS STORY,

"You would like to know the story of that picture? Well, well, old boy, it is just like you to light upon the very one that take pleasure in giving the history of"
 We were seated in my studio, my friend Ralph Wallace and myself, and before Ralph was standing the picture of which he had been speaking.
 "Once upon time, while walking along the street, when I was Lee Rossi, the poor artist, and not the famous individual now am (excuse the remark, but really, Ralph, I have never gotten over the habit of let ting a very little praise turn my head completely my eyes caught the glimmer of little trinket lying just at my feet. On stopping to pick it up that wonderful baby face gazed up into mine with such 8 cum ming look in its eyes, and such a mischiev- ous smile playing about the corners of the rosebud mouth. I thought had never seen such a baby. Then that tangle of golden ringlets, that looked as though baby had been taken right from play to have her picture taken.
 ''Well, put the locket in my pocket and came home with renewed energy awakened for I thought I would paint a large picture of my baby, and would compete for the prize at the contest that was to come off.
 q worked day and night at the picture, resolved that I would finish it before ad- vertising for the owner, and during this time grew to love the little face which greeted me every morning on entering here to begin work.
 '.Did you ever find the owner of the locket 7" asked Ralph of the artist who had apparently forgotten all about the story in smiling back at the baby.
 "One morning after had finished the portrait heard timid little knock at the door, and on opening it saw lady stand ing in the hallway. Such vision of beauty never had seen before. A glance at the sad, though beautiful face, told me without looking at the dress and bonnet of black that she had recently undergone 8 great sorrow.
 "A little stray lock had become unfast- ened, and was nestling on the low. white forehead as though proud Of it's resting place. While talking to me one little hand moved restlessly about, as though seeking some support, and having at last found it's mate they became interlaced, and remained so while her errand was told.
 "'Twas the voice that charmed me most of all believe I never heard & sweeter, softer voice except my wife's; you must acknowledge that she has that one accomplishment, Ralph).
 "She wanted to have a picture of her brother enlarged, and thought perhaps, as l was new beginner, she would let me attempt it.
 By the time we were inside the studio, and Mischief (that was the name had decided upon for my picture) was standing on an easel facing the door.
 "The young lady's gaze rested for 8 moment on the picture, and I saw blank astOnishment written on her countenance. Turning to me with a flushed, puzzled look, she said:
 "Where did you get that picturep"
 II told her the same story l have been telling you, and I had great expectations in regard to my picture. It seemed as though at sight I could conf1de in this beautiful girl who looked so trustingly in- to my eyes"
 "And what had this girl to do with the picture ?" says Ralph, who is again inn patient at the long delay.
 "Why, it was she who had lost the pie ture. Who was the baby? My baby had grown up and was now standing before me. Twas 8 picture her mother had taken of her eighteen years before. and which the girl had always carried in the locket worn suspended from a little chain around her neck.
 Having taken out her brothers from the other side of the locket, few weeks before, for the purpose of having 1t en-