The Telegraph-courier. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1888-1946, 1891-04-30


And he bayed to the moon as she rose.
in Seonee.
seWell, and how does success taste?". said
Torpenhow, some months later. He had
Just returned to the chambers after hOll-
day in the country.
s.Good, " said Dick, as he sat licking his
lips before the easel in the studio. II want
more, heaps more The lean years have
passed and approve of these fat ones"
BE careful, old man. That way lies bad
work"
Torpenhow was spraWling in long chair
with small fox terrier asleep on his chest,
while Dick was preparing canvas. A dais,
a background, and a lay-fgure were the
only fixed objects in the place. They rose
from wreck of oddments that began with
felt-covered water bottles, belts, and regi-
mental badges, and ended with a small
bale of secondhand uniforms and stand
of mixed arms. The mark of muddy feet
on the dais showed that military model
had just gone away. The watery autumn
sunlight was falling, and shadows sat in the
corners of the studio.
eyes, u said Dick, deliberately, II like the
power; like the fun. like the fuss; and
above all [ like the money. | almost like
the people who make the fuss and pay the
money. Almost. But they're queer
gang-an amazingly queer gang"
'sThey have been good enough to you, at
any rate That tin-pot exhibition of your
sketches must have paid. Did you see that
the papers called it the Wild Work Show! 2"
'.Never mind. sold every shred of can
vas I wanted to- and, on my word, believe
it was because they believed [ was self
taught f1ag-stone artist. l should have got
better prices if l had worked my things on
wool or scratched them on camel bone in
stead Of using mere black and white and
color Verify, they are queer gang, these
people. Limited isn't the word to describe
'em. met a fellow the other day who told
me that it was impossible that shadows on
white sand should be e-ultra-marine-
as they are. l found out, later, that that
man had been as far as Brighton beach; but
he knew all about Art, confOund him. He
gave me a lecture on it, and recommended
me to 60 to school to learn technique. I
wonder what old Kami would have said to
that
''When were you under Kami, man of eX-
traordinary beginnings!"
Il studied with him for two years in Paris.
He taught by personal magnetism. All he
ever said was, 'C0nttnuez, mGz eTGdnts
and you had to make the best you could Of
that. He had divine touch, and he knew
something about color. Kami used to dream
color [ swear he could never have seen
the genuine article; but he evolved it, and it
was good"
''RecolIect some of those views in the
Soudan?" said Torpenhow, with provoking
drawl
Dick squirmoa il l,:c place, ''Don't. 7.
makes me want to get out there again. What
color that was Opal and umber and amber
and claret and brick-red and sUlphur-cOck-
atoo-crest sulphur against brown, with a
niger black rock sticking up in the middle
of it all, and a decorative frieze of camels
festooning in front of a pure pale-turQuoise
sky" He began to walk up and down.
''And yet, you know, if you try to give these
people the thing as God gave it keyed down
to their comprehension and according to
the powers He has given you"
Modest man! Go on"
"Half dozen epicene young pagans who
haven't even been to Algiers will tell you,
first that your notion is borrowed, and,
secondly, that it isn't Art"
''This comes of my leaving town for a
month, Diclzie: you've been prOmenading
among the toy shops and hearing people
talk"
Il couldn't help it, said Dick penitently.
''You weren't here, and it was lonely these
long evenings. A man can't work forever.
"A man might have gone to a pub. and
got decently drunk"
II wish I had but I forogathered with
some men of sorts. They said they were
artists, and I knew some of them could
draw-but they wouldn't draw. They gave
me tea-tea at in the afternoon and
talked about Art and the state of their
souls. As if their souls mattered. I've
heard more about Art and seen less of her
in the last six months than in the whole OF
nv life! Do you remember Cassavetti, VINO
worked for sore Continental syndicate, out
with the desert column? He was regular
Christmas tree of contraptiOns when be
took the field in full rig, with his water
bottle, lanyard, revolver, writing case,
housewife, gig lamps, and the Lord knows
what all He used to fiddle about with
'em and show us how they worked, but he
never seemed to do much except fudge his
reports from the Nilghai. See?"
''Dear old Nlghai. He's in town, fatter
than ever. He ought to be UP here this eve
ming see the comparison perfectly. You
should have kept clear of all that man
millinery. Serves you right; and l hope it
will unsettle your mind"
cit won't. 1t has taught me what Art
holy. sacred Art-means.
you've learnt something while I've been
away. What is Art?"
"Give 'em what you know, and when
you've done it once do it again" Dick
dragged forward canvas laid face to the
wall. Here's a sample of real art. It's go
ing to be a fac-simile reproduction for a
weekly. I called it His Last Shot It's
worked up from the little water color I
made outside Ell Maghrid. Well, I lured
my model a beautiful rifeman, up here with
drink: I drored him, and I redrored him,
and / tredrored hin, and l made him
flushed, dishevelled scalawag, with his
helmet at the back of his head, and the liv-
ing fear of death in his eye, and the blood
oCzing out of cut over his ankle bone He
wasn't pretty, but he was all soldier and