The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1894-01-27
Select Storp.
THE BRONZE MEDALLION.
From Chambers's Journal.

Inc people VINO drop into my stuulO ana
examine the various objects of art and vir-
tue which long life and considerable
success in my profession have enabled me
to collect together, would no doubt be very
much surprised to hear that of all my
treasures there is none SO dear to Inc as the
bronze medallion that lies enshrined within
a crystal case on my mantelpiece. Many
of my visitors have glanced at it, and
turned away to examine rare bit of cary
ing or an almost priceless example of some
forgotten art. To them the bronze medal
lion suggested nothing possibly they
thought-if they gave the matter any
thought at all-that it was some medal
won in my student days, and therefore
treasured with care. That it represented
whole life history, and had the power to
revive many strange memories, they had
no idea. Some people, perhaps, seeing it
in place Of honor among my knick-kDacks,
may have fancied that it was something
for which | had the same superstitious
reference that other men give TO a horse
shoe The bronze medallion however, is
artistic success it is simply an insignificant
object worth perhaps few shillings, which
has played no small part in my life, and on
one occasion saved me from sudden and
violent death.
Thirty years ago, when [ was young
man of twenty-six, and had fame and for
tune still eluding me, was attached to the
artistic staff of the Illustrated Weekly, a
journal which was just then beginning a
career of great success. Blackand-white
work was not then what it is now; but
people thought highly of the Illustrations
we were able to give them for sixpence,
and there was no lack of encouragement for
proprietors or artists. My own special
forte was animal life, as it always has been.
From the time when | could first hold a
pencil, | had spent my happiest moments
in drawing horses. To me a horse was
creature Of infinite artistic possibilities. |
had drawn him sitting in the ring of cir
Gus and galloping at express speed over a
racecourse, and it mattered little to me
whether he was high-bred or shaggy
Shetland pony. | had already begun to
paint him in oils, and my first picture,
"Young Horses at Play was considered
worthy of place in the Academy. Itwas
this success in depicting horses that led the
editor of the Illustrated Weekly to suggest
that | should go down to Doncaster and
make sketch of the st. Leger of that
year. There was some famous horse run
ning-I forget his name for the moment
and the public interest in the race was
greater than usual. Consequently, the
proprietors determined to give double
page illustration to the scene; and | trav-
elled to Doncaster day or two before the
event, and began my work getting an ac-
curate idea of the racecourse, and selecting
favorable standpoint from which to focus
my sketch.
The day of the great race came, and dur
ing the morning | was busily occupied in
interviewing the various horses engaged,
and in filling my sketch-book with bits that
seemed likely to be useful. When the
afternoon came round and the racing be-
gan. [ made my way to certain part of
the course which had seemed to me very
we'll suited to my purposes, and there |
took up my stand. There were two races
to be run before the St. Leger; and while
these were being got through, and during
the intervals between them, | occupied my
self in watching the doings of the crowd
which filled the upper part of the town
moor. There must have been 200, 900
people present on the stands and in the
rings and on the moor, and from them
came perfect babel of sound, above which
the stentorian voices of the bookmakers
blended with the shrill cries of catchpenny
adventures of all sorts. Here two or
three members of the three-card- trick fra
ternity were endeavoring to gull group of
round-faced rustics; there similar gang
were shouting the praises of sort of
roulette-table; yonder betting-man had
screamed himself hoarse, and was reduced
to shaking the money in his bag as a
means Of attracting attention. Beyond the
shouting, swaying, bustling crowd stretched
a long line of vehicles of all descriptions,
from the lordly looking coach to the farmers
light cart, and on these men and women
were eating and drinking and discussing
the prospects of the favorite for the great
race. Across the course rose the long line
of stands, thickly packed with fashionable
race-goers, and those made dark back
ground TO the picture | had in my minds
eve