Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1888-09-14

y valuable opinion es to good art N W.T.
ine," he sGy- and csanut hclp o,isctv
ing that the art doctors disagree wofullv
among themselves. Truth to nature and
the realities, and not the following of any
school of fashion, has ever seemed the
safest guide. sometimes venture to
think | know little abont human ma
ture My active life brought me in close
con tact with all kinds of people; there
was no man in my regiment who hesitat
ed t. come to my tent or to talk confiden-
TALLY by the camp fire, while scores of
dying men laid bare to me their hearts.
/ ut least know the nature that exists in
the human breast. 1t may he inartis'ic,
or my use of it all wrong This il uues-
ton which time will decide, and | shall
accept the verdict. Over ~ years ago,
certain oraces, with the voice of fat,
predicted my speedy eclipse and dsnp-
pearauce. Are they right in their adverse
judgment can truthfully say that now,
as at first, | wish to know the
facts in the case. The moment an
author is conceted about his work
he becomes absurd and is passing into
hopeless condition. If worthy to write ut
all, he knows that he falls far short of his
Ideals il honest, he wisbes to he estl-
mated at his true worth, and to cast he
hind him the mean little satan OF vanity.
If be walks under a conscious sense of
greatness, he is a ridiculous figure, for be
holders remember the literary giants of
other days AMI of his own time, and smile
at the airs of the comparatively little man.
On the other hand, no self-res pecting
writer should ape the false, deprecating
'umbleness' of Uriah Heep. In short. he
wishes to pass, like coin, for just what
| he is worth "
In these words is picture Of the man
| himself, lnest, single-m minded, upright,
with no self-assertiveness, with no mock
! modesty.
Few men, Indeed, could meet Mr. Roe
| without yielding him the tribute of their
affection. Fewer still could see him in his
| own home, moving among his relations,
his neighbors, and his friends, could note
his unfailing courtesy and geniality his
| unfailing kiudliness and sweetness of dis
| position at the very moment when pain
and disease perhaps had claimed him for
their own, without rejoicing in the pros
perity that crowned his later years The
money he made from his books he spent
with princely generosity. His purse was
ever at the command of the poor and the
afflicted, his hospital doors were open to
the world. One day a meeting Of fellow
authors crowded to his house. the next q
party of divinity students or of hard
worked preachers found there needed rest
and recuperation. His favorte strawberry
beds were the temporary property of his
visitors his horses and carriages were al
all hours of the day ready to convey then
through his grounds or over the neigh Dor
ing roads hat command the most exquis
lite views.
1t is said of the French dramatist La
biche that once on some social occasion he
ingratated himself with his guests by
saying to each person rs he arrived. "a
last ~ and to each as he left, ALREADY 3
The epigrammstic smartness of the CALI,
author would have been foreign enough
to the native sim plicity ofthe American
but the manner of the latter expressed
exactly what the words of the former wer
meant to convey-a heartiness of welcome
that seemed almost a reproach for no
having arrived sooner, an vdent reluc
lance to let you CO. w. S. WALSH.