Clarksville evening chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn) 1886-1890, 1888-11-06
ROY'S BATTLE.

tangled mass Of black hair on lis head, a
cigarette in his mouth and an insolent
swagger in his manner.
Roy stopped and glanced around. Yes,
there was another, and he looked like an
American. He was long and lean and
lank, but looked eager and intelligent.
He was looking shyly and curiously into
the studio Of the ''Beaux Arts" His
gray tweed suit was worn and seedy in
the extreme. There was q real hunger
in his eye, and his hands seemed to trem-
BILE as he still kept them ON the half open
door.
The hall was long one, and there
seemed to be perfect forest OF easeis,
from each of which had sprung wild
looking figure, with unkempt looks and
dancing black eyes and hooking grihs.
walk in, gentlemen, cried one voice.
"You weren't expected this morning, or
we'd have had the studio painted.
Roy had heard something of the re-
ception given to a new student at the
Beaux Arts, SO he kept his temper and
bowed.
Delighted to welcome q native of the
land of the great Barnum," cried another,
Selling Roy's hand and working it like 0
pump handle. "'How many scalps have
you on hand?"
1.-TWO new fellows-a double treat.
Here, monsieur, interrogate the gentle
men. But first let us give three cheers
for the United Statesp'
These cheers are given with gusto, and
the supervisor approaches Roy.
| ri W
Roy reddens, and looks at his COM
panion. 1t is rather hard for two free
born American citizens to be brow
beaten in this way.
"What do they mean," asks the other
''It's tax on every newcomer.
''Must we pay it2'
Il suppose 50; it's beastly shame"
! "But-I cannot" faltercd the other.
II have only five francs in the world"
''Stop chattering, new fellows" cried
the supervisor. ''We're thirsty"
Roy felt strange pity for the lank
young man with the hungry eyes.
"Only five francs9 Oh! l see; your
remittance has not arrived.
"I-never get remittances," faltered
the other.
"Why, how do you live?'
II work my way"
ga thousand thunders," vociferated
| tho supervisor. I'm the name of George
Washington, how long must we waltz
''It's no use-I-must give it up for
the present, " said the young man, grow
ing taler, and casting longing look at
tho forest of eascls.
''Stopl will pay for you," exclaimed
Roy, with a sudden impulse of friendli-
ness to the forlorn being "You can give
it back-whcn you're able"
He was unpreparcd for the tears that
suddenly rushed into the cavernous
hungry eyes of the other.
Thanks. You have saved me; and
if ever forget it.
He held out one gaunt, bony hand,
that still trembled in Roy's grasp.
Il believe the fellow is hungry" Roy
decided, his heart melting at the thought.
So, after the noisy crew had disposed
of the feast and drank the health of the
two and of all their compatriots, he in
vited his new acquaintance to dinner,
and they grew quite confidential over it.
Il haven't a relative in the world but
maiden aunt, who believes in my
genius and sent me over here" said
Roy. Il had some opinion of myself at
home. j thought knew something of
art matters. am now certain am q
Ounce. I've been here a year, working
with teacher. I've been getting rid of
all the old methods, and haven't any
new ones. That's my condition at
present."
81 have not even an aunt am alone.
depend upon myself, and have lived SO
! far" said the other, who gave Roy a
somewhat battered bit Of pasteboard.
THAT is my name, and l have den at
that number. intend to go in for all
the prizes, and il pluck and work can do
anything shall win. You have done me
q service today
Never mind that, ;" interrupted Roy,
looking at the card and reading thereon
the name of "Nathan Lang" written in
bold free hand. "We must stand by
ono another against these Phiistinee."
In this way friendship began that
lasted through the year. One lowering
night toward the end of it Roy Mather
was making his way somewhat gloomily
through that picturesque tangle of streets
called the Latin Quarter. lie had just
received a letter from Aunt Roxie which
he had stopped by lighted window to
read.
1t ran as follows:
Dear Roy-rve got to tell you some
bad news. There amt no escapin' of it,
or putin Of it off. But perhaps, by
this time, you're carvin' out your for
tune, and gettin' able to do without help.
hope you'll keep to a straight and mar
rcr path, and never deviate into paintin
them there Wenuses and Dinahs which
is a perver.;n' public taste, and didn't
ought to be allowed Tho bad news is
that l ventured all my little fcrtin' in an
/ oil well, VI oh accordin' to our Deacon
! Josiah Sla;r was n runnin' eighteen
/ thousin' barrels day. Well, it's run of
all my mo.ay, at any rate. There's an
old sayin' ;.bout truth bein' at the bottom
of o well, but that wasn't tho ono l
reckon. Deacon Slater lows it was to
be, an les no use goia' sgin tie ordi-
nancos; but faint clear to me rs Proyi-
dcnce had anything to DO with it. and l
/ don't know as twill be to you, ard so