The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1894-08-23

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, a5HB behold the en-
5-IY1 a trance of an Office
NANf1- zSSH building on State
%kA - llly str e {, Chicago.
I'll Before it stands a
tn stall Wart, cOarsely-
dressed man, evil
IDENTIFY a miner.
His bronzed, good
natured face is
lighted with con
tentment, as If the
world had at last
rewarded him for his hard work He
intently regards sign upon the wall
at the foot Of the stairs. The sign
contains these words: Portraits and
landscapes painted. Room 80"
Whatever his intention, he seems
half-ashamed of it, for he takes a hur-
RED look up and down the street. and
hesitates again before his resolve is
taken, and his numbering boots 60
heavily up the stairs. In little room
on the top floor sits a shabby man, the
physical opposite of the first. The
wen-wOrn books upon the shelves, and
the bullying portfolios Of studies"
all about show that he, too, has been
digging after treasure, but Of another
kind, and his face gives evidence that
he has found it
His wide, shadowy eyes see more
than they rest upon, and his high
brow teens with fancies far above the
groveling horde about him. He is
thin, weak and miseTably poor. Strive
as he may with his unbusinesslilze ma
ture, he can but keep himself half fed.
The day is bitterly cold, and he
pauses often in his work to beat togeth-
er his blue fingers, almost as numb
and Iifeless as the little, rusty, I'M
used stove in the corner. How IN
equally the goods of this world are
divided
Perhaps he was Illuminating some
what to this effect when the clump-
dumping Of the boots followed by a
vigorous bOmbardment at his door, in
terrupted him. He rises and opens
the door, starting, half with fear,
half with pleasure at the sta1wart
figure before him.
Good mornin, sir, says the miner,
still speaking with the accent he had
picked up in the California mines.
s'Good morning; come in the other
replies, holding the door Hospitality
open.
''Can look at the pictures9"
Certainly
The visitor steps over the threshold.
and by the time the artist has closed
the door and seated himself at his
work, he has gone round the room,
has looked at them, and plainly failed
to find something he had hoped to
see. He stands now and watches the
artist laying the co1ors on the canvas.
'.Ah,'' he says. Il don't care much
for pictures. They don't look like
outdoors. They don't look like the
place I want to see. Now, could ye
paint picture jist as I'd describe it
to ye. so it'd look like the very placer
81 am afraid not. Words are not
readily transmitted into form and
color The usual terms Of description
are too indefinite, capable of too many
and too varied interpretations; too
liable to distortion through the trans
forming influences of the painters
own imagination to render success
probable"
mo, no; don't mean anything like
that. Just make it the way III tell
We Try, and I'll help ye to strike it.
Try it, stranger. I'll stand the DANA
ges, and if yell make't look like the
place, I'll pay ye well for it.
The inducements are irresistible to
the hungry Bohemian, 50 he puts a
fresh canvas on the easel, and seats
himself, palette in hand. to make the
attempt. The other shuts his eyes
for moment in retrOspection, and
then says:
''Well, there's a river runnin' right
through the middle of the picture,
that is what I want to see. Not
big river. just a kind of overgrown
creek But that ant much of a de-
scription, is it2" And he scratched
his head and tries again
''Wel1, this river is about forty feet
wide on the average Just paint it
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