Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1889-11-13

denly there fell shadow on his paper.
the shadow of a three cornered hat
that could only belong to the parish
priest He it was, looking on silently
at Petit Pierre's work, who blushed to
his ears. detected in such employmer [.
The venerable cure was a tender-hearted
good man. When he was young he
had lived in cities, and had a taste for
and some knowledge of the fine arts.
Petit Plerre's work appeared to him
very remarkable now, and to promise a
most brilliant future. The worthy
priest was touched with this solitary
pursuit, this unconscious genius that.
wasting its sweetness on the desert
AIR." VS. pltlently reproducing the
work of the Creator.
My young friend, modesty is a
worthy sentiment, but you need not
blush in that way. There is no harm
In drawing if one does not neglect other
duties. There is good deal of merit
| IN the picture-the trees are true to
life and the shrubs each have the leaves
that belong to them. You must have
been close observer before you could
have reproduced anything from what
you saw-hOw much more merit to be
able to originate anything"
This was the first encourag .ment
Feat Pierre ever had; it gave him the
tirst confidence in his genius that was
to be so great, Go on, my son. con-
tinued the good pastor, ''perhaps you
VIII be another Giotto. He, like you,
was poor shepherd, but acquired so
much skill that one of his pictures was
| irr1ed In procession by the enthusiasts
| tic citizens of Florence
During the long winter evenings the
good priest taught Petit Pierre how to
read and write, the two keys of knowl-
edge. The shepherd progressed rapidly,
for he learnt with his heart as well as
with his head.
Another summer rolled around. Petit
Pierre was once more abroad with hi.
sheep, but this summer he had devel-
oped wonderfully, physically and men
tally. He had eaten of the tree of
knowledge under the wise tuition of
the priest.
The intoxication of ambition fred
his soul-fortunately Petit Pierre had
no admiring frIends-neither the trees
nor the rocks could flatter him. The
immensely of nature that he was con-
stantly brought into contact with
showed him very soon his own little
ness. Furnished by the Cure with all
the paper and crayons lie wanted, he
he never saw the beautiful lady again
save in his dreams; then she always
appeared radiant and encouraging,
saying: "That is well, my friend; per
severe. and you will have yourreward.' -
An event, very simple in itself, which
was destined to affect the whole of
Petlt Plerre's life, suddenly came to
pass. ut is always the unexpected
that happens" and nothing could be
more so than the advent of a new pict-
ure for the title church. The painter,
rising artist, careful of his pictures,
attended to the transportation of this
one himself, and. after the proper
placing of the picture, repaired to the
Cures home, where the latter showed
the visitor some of Petit Pierre's draw
ings. The boy, pale as death, leaped
heavily against the table. pressing his
hand against his heart, for it seemed AS
though 1t would burst, then waited III
silence for the condemnation of all his
dreams. He could not imagine man
so well dressed, well-gloved, and with a
knot of red ribbon in his buttonhole,
the authar of a picture surrounded
with gold frame, could find any merit
in charcoal sketches on grey paper.
The painter picked up and threw aside
several sketches without saying word.
Then the color mounted to his cheeks,
and he uttered short exclamations in
studio phrases.
This is glorious! And this, how
naturall And this, chic. Corot could
not do better. This charcoal sketch
would craze Delaberg. This sleeping
lamb is in Paul Potter's style"
When he had finished he rose, walked
over to Petit Pierre and shook him cor
daily by the hand, saying:
''Pardieul though it is not considered
very honorable among artists TO say so,
L must tell you, my dear boy, you know
more than all my scholars put together.
Come to Paris with me; in six mon ms
| will teach you the details of manner
and style; then you Will be able To
walk alone. If nothing unforeseen hap
pens, L can predict, wi hout compro-
missing myself, you Will be very success
fui. "
Petit Pierre, well warned of the dan
gers of modern Babylon, left with the
painter, taking Fidele with HIM. The
painter, with that goodness of heart
that usually accompanies talent,
thought a familiar figure would have a
beneficial effect on his pupil amid
strange surroundings. Fidele would
not allow himself TO be lifted into the
stage, but followed on foot as fast as
his astonishment would allow, reassured
from time to time by his masters face
1t would be difficult to follow Petit
Pierre'S progress. Tile works of the
great masters, of whom he made fire.
quent copies, were of the greatest ser
vice to HIM. He passed from the severe
style of PousSin to the languishIng of
Claude Lorraine; from the bold hardi-
hood of Salvador Rosa to the mosaic
like detail of Ruysdael; but he did not
adobt any particular style. Originality
was too much a part of himself He
was no studio painter, who took photo
graphs or sketches from nature for SIX
weeks In summer to enlarge or finish
them IN winter. Petit PIerre's pictures
seemed impregnated with the aroma of
the woods; one felt, looking at them,
as if one had passed into the forest
through the canvas. The instructions
of art had come soon enough to prevent
his taking a wrong route in style, but
too late to spoil his originality.
After two years of hard study, Petit
Pierre had picture at the salon that
had obtained Honorable Mention. and
every day he would linger In the neigh
the railing pretend to attentively con-
slider paintings near his canvas, hearing
in this way the criticisms of the specta-
tors.
With the delight of his first success
came the thought, 1.-THE beautiful LADY,
would like this, and he prayed that she