The Arizona sentinel., 1888-10-27
THAT PRINCE ALBERT.
An Old Darky's Amusing Conduct
 During an Emergency.

MT. Waldo Archer, the portrait painter, lived, about three years ago, in one of those pretty studio buildings on Thirty-seventh street. in New York City. If you have ever been through the street you must remember the buildings Philadelphia pressed brick, each story set back further than the one below, and with sloping roof of ground glass rising back to the next story.
 Mir. Archer was not as well known then as he is now. He had not as yet painted that portrait of Leonard P. Jenkins, vice-president of the O., P. & w. railroad, which made such stir at the spring exhibition at the academy in 1886. But he had already attained reasonable success, and had a pretty wife who was a painter, too-nOt of portraits, but of china-that dainty sort you have seen at the great china stores, wild roses with the morning dew on them and blackberry vines in their autumn colors. You felt almost certain you could see them stir little in some passing breeze, as you looked at them.
 Mrs. Archer had herself done the housework in the little fat for some time-she did not find it much of a burden. And now, their only servant was an old colored man who had brought them letter from some dear friends of theirs in the South. He had come to New York to look up child he had lost after the war, but had only found that the child was dead. The Archers did not know what to do with the old man, at first He used to come in in the afternoon to see if they had found him place.
 MT. Archer would be painting away at his easel on the blue coat perhaps of a General, or the ball-dress of lady of fashion, and his wife would be sitting in her low, rattan chair read ing aloud to him from Robert Brown ing or Dr. Holmes, or some other of their favorite writers, when there would come a knock at the door, and in would walk Rev. Alexander Max well St. Clair, lowing low and swing ing back at arms length his high, whitebeaver hat.
 He was tall, gaunt old man, solemn in appearance until he began to speak, when his face lighted up finely.
 Mrs. Archer always laid her book down at once, and asked him to be seated, but he would only bow and smile, and remain standing, and say, lowing his head frequently while he spoke:
 "Well, sir, any news for me to-day, sir?"
 He always said "Sir," but he evil dently asked the question of both.
 There never was any news. MT. Archer 'Ioaned" him a little money now and then, ''till he could find a place, and finally they took him them selves-in self-defense, Mrs. Archer said-and he soon became an estab- ished member of the family.
 He could cook, and wash and iron, and sweep, and scrub-not only could, but did. He tended" the door with much state and solemnity, made all the purchases at the grocer's and butchers, and, in fact, rendered life quite another thing for Mrs. Archer.
 She said that formerly, when she read to her husband from Whittier or Lowell, she was always seeing visions of boiling potatoes and baking bread floating between the lines. Now she turned all such visions over to Alex ander.
 One day handsome carriage, with faint red monogram on the panel, stopped before Mir. Archer's building, and in few moments gentleman was ushered in by Alexander-Mr. Win throp.
 MT. Archer knew the name. He had seen it in the papers often. And he knew where Mir. Winthrop lived, in a great, double, brown-stOne house with glittering plate-glass windows, on Fifth avenue-a corner house with square oriel window projecting diagonally from the corner on the second floor.
 Mr. Winthrop had seen some of Mir. Archer's portraits at the Academy Ex- hibition, and recently had been especi- ally pleased with one he saw at friends house on Fifty-seventh street. He wanted to have MT. Archer to paint his portrait, and had come to arrange for the sitting.
 They agreed on Wednesday of the following week for the time, and at two o'clock on that day MT. Winthrop's