San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1889-10-30

of tree-stems to the right. His steps went
completely silent on the brown carpet of
shed tir-needleS the ungathered harvest
of many scores of years. The sunlight fell
in patches through the riffs of foliage
overhead, lying golden on the closely
matted carpet of the fir-needleS. and shin
ing in vivid reds and siennaS and rich
browns on the great trunks of the trees
The calm sea lay beyond, with rs many
colors in it as there are III an Opal-the
tones TO the full as delicate and pure.
The SOLITUDE and the beauty OF the place
Dire him on, and he fell into reverie.
Walking witch his eyes bent towards the
ground, he star ed suddenly to find him.
self in the act of marching into an empty
camp-stool; and, looking up, he saw, only
two or three yards before him, q painters
umbrella and an easel with picture
mounted upon it. The paint was still
wet in places, and from where he stood he
could make out nothing of the work but a
glare of variously -colored light He
moved step or two to the left, and Sc
cured perfect view of it. The artist had
evidently left his work for a while, and
not human creature was in sight. There
was dim sound of voices somewhere,
that and the artistic belongings before
him were the only evidences of humanity
he could discover. The work upon the
easel, though yet unfinished, charmed him
so much that he stood to look at it until
he became altogether forgetful of his
whereabouts. 1t was painted with Won
derful brio, as the art-slang goes-a sort
of happy impetuosty and careless surety;
. ya1l IL
stoned, single minded, and simple hearted
reproduction of Natures self To the
observers mind. the salt of the sea and
the odOr of the pines were on it, and II
had one rare and excellent virtue-it held
sunlight
The millionaire Paul Jones stood so en-.
rapt-for he was by nature and cultivation
lover of pictures, and had been a wide
awake dreamer all his days--that he did
not hear the step of the artistic Paul until
it was almost upon him. Then he turned
and found himself confronted by that jolly
and burly presence The younger Paul
recognized him at once, and addressed him
with boisterous frankness.
"HillO. You come down here? Lovely
country. amt it? Don't let me drive You
away'-for the shy millionaire made
motion as if he would go. at don't fret
me bit to have folks around while I'm
working. Fact, rather like it,"
The millionaire had something of a sense
of shame upon him. One of his common.
est forms of sadness took its rise in the
opinion that he was good at nothing. He
had tried most of the arts in his day, and
had surrendered each in turn with an
abOrtIve sense of want of power over it.
He had painted and modelled and played
and had written verses, and had never got
beyond the amateur stage i'll the pursuit
of any one of those delightful arts He
called himself one of those microscopic
Michael Angeles who infest idle and
mOneyed societies, and, at times, believed
that he had no spur at all towards any
one of the pursuits he had adopted save
such as were afforded by idleness and
vanity. He thought poorly indeed of the
dollars he owned as a claim to distinction,
and he reverenced, with an almost boyish
enthusiasm, those people who could do
what he had failed in doing. A painter,
a musician u sculptor, poet, was man
before whom he could have knelt if he had
not been altogether too shy to make such
proclamation of enthusiasm. And now,
giant whom he had contemned and dis
liked from the first word he had heard
him utter, he found an actual artist-a
man capable of understanding the sweet
and complex speech of Nature and of
translating it for the charming of his fel.
low men. He hardly knew enough how
to be ashamed of himself
The artistic Paul, knowing nothing of
these self-upbraidings, and perfectly at
home and at ease with himself and with
al the world, seated himself upon his
camp-stool, and drawing from one pocket
a cake of tobacco of deep golden color
and from another a Misunderstanding
claSn-knife, shredded enough of the weed
to fill a pipe, whiStling melOdiOusly
meanwhile, with his head on one side, and
cooking a loving yet critical eye at his can
vas.
Smoke" he said. ''Noo That's pity.
Strikes me that COlumbias one title to
pride is that she gave this to the world
When got to Paris never was more sur
prised in my life. | found there was q
duty on tobacco in France and I'd brought
twelve pounds over with me and never
declared it. There's no tobacco like it in
Europe, and should have had to pay
little fortune on it. A little ignorance is
blessed thing. Saved me, most likely, fifty
or sixty dollars"
The millionaire saw a chance for some.
thing like an epigram about the sweetness
of prOtiting by a sin innocently committed.
He tried to say it, but in his shyness he
boggled over it and left it unfinished, feel
ing newly awkward and ill at ease. The