Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1891-07-22
AT LAST.

"What canvas do you work on to-
day, Philip"
None"
"Why, Philip You don't mean
to say you're not going to finish that
beautiful thing. 1t is one of the best
you have ever done, and saleable, too. "
II think, Madge, / will have to give
up painting altogether, l have mistak-
en- my vocation"
The young wife's countenance fell
as she looked at her husband, q young,
handsome fellow. not yet twenty
eight. She could not understand this
strange lack in an otherwise faultless
character, this tendency 10 leave un-
finished these wonderful dashes of
inspiration, in which he would with a
few strokes of his brush, produce
effects which artists loved to look at
and came back to study, which they
looked at and sighed over, feeling
there was something away beyond the
reach even Of perseverance. What
was worse, he could not understand
it himself. He knew he had that in
him which would place him forever
among the few immortals-but as he
expressed tt cannot overcome this
terrible Incidence. 1t is disease in
my nature /; l want to crack my skull
and give my brain more room. 1t is
killing me, this impalpable barrier,
l want money, luxury, travel, the
society of the very best men, and all
these are within my reach if / but put
forth the effort. But / cannot-with
all / most desire to tempt me l can
not. feel as if long illness would
clear my head and cure me. / think
if was brought down to the very
verge of the grave, I would leave all
this behind me and come back to my
work fresh and untrammeled. l re
allie my idea of the highest quite
clearly. it is ever before me, but
though | cannot attain it, neither can
/ turn from it and do poor work.
will rather give up painting altogeth-
err"
What could be said to such one.
He knew his faults and failings better
than any one could tell him; he lived
in poverty while luxury was passion
with HIM he loved the woman he
had married but year ago and want
ed to give her ease and comfort. But
no incentive availed, almost every
thing he did, notably his best work, he
he sent off for sale unfinished
Artists admired and openly lauded
it, but artists were not buyers, and
the Philistine wanted what he could
never be induced to paint-a picture
with Il story in it, picture that was
literature in paint. Will.power I
Yes--he knew the value of that, too
but when he tried to mix il in his
paints and go OH finishing, in spite OF
himself he ruined his picture-it be-
came fat and common place and in
despair he threw down his brush
His will-power was expended on re.
naming true to the ideal he sought.
"I'll tell you what I'll do, little
w0man-since money we must have
I'll ghost it for while. l can finish
well enough for ghost. ] won't
send the work l spoil as my own--a
ghost is only guessed at you know-ii
will relieve the financial pressure
eh, Madge?"
His wife sat silent, too full 10
speak. Was this, then, the fulfill.
ment of all the fair promise of his
youth-of his dreams Of greatness
of the life they two were to lead going
forward hand-in-hand together II
is true she had seen some indications
of this before they had married, but
she had considered it merely lack Of
the business faculty-and she had
been so sure she could help him there
She would relieve him of caring for
himself; she would care for him she
would be near to cheer him when his
fits of depression and despair at his
failures overcame him, and it would
] all be so different when they were to-