Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-10-13

from its inner pocket an oval case in red
morocco. Opening it, he submitted for my
inspection the miniature in question.
"Eh, wat you think of that?" he re-
peated.
1 was surprised to find that it was an ex-
ceedingly clever piece OF painting. Instead
of the conventional product of the miniature
maker that I had expected, beheld the
handiwork of an able and painstaking
artist. Well drawn, we'll modelled, we'll
handled in respect of color, it presented the
exterminator to the life. His wig, his pow
der, his rouge, his jewelry, his foppish cos
tune, and behind them all, like a skull be-
hind mask, his genuine old age, were re-
hected as truthfullv and as pitilessly as in
looking-glass. 1t was justice untempered
by mercy; and it was extremely good.
"Why, this is capital" exclaimed.
"She has real talent. What a shame that
she should waste herself on miniatures, and
working for photographers!
"Yes, it is beautiful; it is very fine"
acquiesced MUSCLE, grinning complacently.
''Bot if she work for photographers, you
know, hit is because, as we say in France, il
faut vivre, one must live. What would
you ave? She mex no money if she don't"
eyes, yes, / understand. But the woman
that would really be worth while. Does
she never attempt anything better?"
"If you come downstairs wiz ,he, re-
turned the exterminator, II show you a
beeg picture which she pent. and which 1
tex one time in place of the rent-money
they howed me. 1t is magnificent; it is
superb. You come, yes?'
"Why, yes; by all MEANS" said I.
And thinking in my soul that landlord
who would take paintings in lieu of rent
lord for painters to put up with, followed
him downstairs. He led me into back
room on the second story, which was fur
| nished as a bedroom; and there, having
closed the door and thrown open the blinds,
This is my 'ome," he announced; "and
here is the picture"
He had described it as big picture; and
big it scarcely was. But in point of artistic
merit it far surpassed what had come pre-
pared for, even though the specimen OF her
work which he had shown me above stairs
had been so good. Its dimensions were per-
haps 2 feet by Is inches; and it represented
the interior Of a dungeon, or prison cell.
An oblong window, too high up 10 be reached
| without a ladder, too narrow to permit the
|
further protected by stout iron bars, ad-
mitted daylight, and framed in patch of
slaty, wintry sky. For the rest there were
bare stone walls, stone ceiling, and stone
floor; while a broad stone slab, SO con-
structed that it formed part of the solid
masonry of the wall from which it projected,
was the only piece Of furniture in evidence,
and maniiestly answered at once for bed,
stool, and table. So much for the accesso-
| ries. They were rendered in spirit of ex-
act, almost Photographic, realism; and the
effect OF massiveiess, remoteness, and gloom,
proper to the subject, was vividly conveyed.
And now the interest of the composition
centered in the figure of an old man, seated
upon the broad stone bench, with his
elbows resting on his knees, his fingers
buried in his long white beard, and his eyes
fixed intently, vacantly, painfully straight
before him. There was something so ire.
sstibly pathetic in that old mans face and
figure, that L, who had come to criticise, felt
myself instantly penetrated by an emotion oi
distress and sympathy, as if were looking
upon veritable human being, and not upon
mere effigy in paint and canvas. His lace
was terribly emaciated; the cheek bones and
the bridge of his nose seemed to be almos
starting through the skin. His hair anG
beard were long and white, and uncombeG
and untrimmed. His skin had that clayey
ghastly pallor which results from long Sc
clusion from fresh air and sunshine. Hi
clothes were old and worn, and they huns
baggily about his limbs, as If he had shrunB
up within them. His attitude, limp anC
bent over and huddled together, breathed .
broken spirit in every line; and his eyes, il