The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1889-02-05

the very next morning and begin his
work. He was to paint the dying mans
portrait. And so it was arranged that the
out+at-the7olbRoMM artist, JOHN Gray, was
to paint the picture of a man who was
living in one of the very richest palace IN
all Rometres & s& -.
How the world widened outl Far away
to either side the world shone glorlously
| that night, asin the land of the midnight
sun. Far ahead the road of life lay now,
|, white and high and magnificent. Far back
over aroaghroad he. looked at last-to a
grave in the CORY. tfodden grassland so
sank to sleep.
In the morning the.work began bright
| and early. But it was cough, cough, cough
all the time; and twas hard to get the
| once strong and manly lines of the dying
man s face in repose. However, they got
on satisfactorily. The work looked most
promising, and the invalid was so pleased
that he thrust a half handful OF gold dust
into the artists hands late that afternoon,
with the Injunction that he must make
haste to come early next morning.
ErTake,the gold nuggetSst to the jeweler
| across the street from the Cafe Grace, at
the hase of the great Spanish steps, and
he will weigh the gold ain give you the
coin"
Strange! and the artist wanted. to ask
and to know what all this meant but it
was cough, cough, cough; and the dying
man could only beekon him to be gone.
The next day the work moved forward
with inspired pace. There was color in
the artists face as well as on his canvas.
There was strength, in his arm and a heap
of gold in hisapocket. He had dined.
"Paint fasti paint fastp' Cough, cough,
cough. at am dying fast. You must.
paint faster than death" Cough, cough,
cough. <.., :. 49,, ~ 49, --.
On the third the dying man was no
longer able to leave his bed. He drew
the artist to his side and placed in his
hands what seemed to be the remains of
a once heavy bag Of gold dust.
"Take. this foryour work and,make the
most of it. In Rome the government
takes. possession of your body and your
goods; your soul if possible, when you
die. And then my relations! they have
hated me ; hated:the hand that fed them;
but they are lowering around and will de-
YOUR all that the church and the state may
leave. And that is nil. The priests after
all are better than my own blood lave
been to me. Ihave divided up my gold
and -" cough cough, cough. ooh,
yes the goldPT Well, I have shared my
gold, but not my secretl You see, if Il
should ever have made known the source
of my supply Of gold, the very gold that I
have gathered from the cave -" cough,
cough, cough ."Oh, that cave! with its
swift, whirlingy swirling winds. There is
where I cought my death, boy caught
my deaf in that deep dark cave, by toiling
and ;sweatingAunder my bags of virgin
gold" Cough, cough, cough.
The artist leaned 9over and lifted the
dying man nearly upright IN his. bed.
"F6azwant89 knoM where it isl All,
| see yeuf eager young face is all
ablaze Z Listen4hen. From the vast Hum
boldt plains, that gather water enough for
a sea, draw a Straight line to the 'Yose-
mite Falls, thence down the MERGED river
through the Yosemite Valley, thence down
and through The San Joaquin to the
ocean. There are other underground riv-
ers that run into this main river; there
are caverns, trembling caves; air holes.
Descend into these. These buried rivers are
paved with gold! And here! come close!
listen!" Cough, cough, cough. Listen to
me! Can any man make ten millions
twenty millions-forty million dollars in
far away California in a single lifetime? ?
Nonsensel nonsense! nonsense my SON.
Why, there oneman gives twenty millions
to a college, and has an hundred millions
leftl Another builds a railroad through
a mountain of solid stone, and has not a
dollar to begin with another is called the
silver king" and -" Cough, cough,
cough. ~"Come>closel listen They have
found the Buried River, and they are
keeping the secret well; keeping the
secret safe and sound as death. Because
if they letit out, gold would be so album
dant that it would be worthless and
Cough, cough, cough.
This time the poor man could scarcely
recover himself. The attendants were
called in and drawing the artist down
close to his STAGE he, with great effort, man
aged to gasp in his ear: r.
Come tomorrow and>I will tell you
ALL"
Very early and very eager, the artist
came to the gloomy portals of the Torlonia
Palace the next morning. He passed in
and with a beating heart climbing the
broad, ,sloaping stairs, broad and sloaping
enough to admit of the ascent of a Cali
fornia six-horse coach. <A+
No one lives on the, first floor of any
house or any palace in Rome, save the
porter and the horses, dogs and goats.
No n lives ever on the second floor in
Rome save the servants. On the third
fool the artist paused. He saw nothing
as yet, for the door leading to the COR
geously furnished rooms of his dying
friend was far down the extreme end of the
hall. He took two or three steps forward
hastily; and then moderating his pace. he