The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1896-05-13
TALE OF A SIGN.

and First street stands the great wholesale
store Of Atterbury Smith. Every New
Yorker knows the place and has heard the
story of the rise of its owner from the es-
tate Of a simple shoemaker to the proprie-
toTship Of the greatest leather goods BUSH
ness in the country.
One sultry afternoon in early spring
Lawrence Hubbub, perched high on the
top Of a stepladder, was laboring away
with his brushes A motley crowd Of men,
women and children stood gazing fntently
at him as he evolved the scene BY the sea.
The horses were done and fitted with
Smith S harness, and now he was laying
on the ocean and dOtting it here and there
with sails.
And as he almost mechanically piled his
brush young Hubbub ran his mind back
over the events Of the year. He thought
Of how he had returned from Paris almost
penniless and set about to fulfill his chosen
destiny=to follow art for art sake He
had intended that life to him should be
one tireless paint, and he would not starve
and study and paint for worldly applause
and honor but for art He would put all
his noble ideals on canvas and then die.
This had been his programme, and doubt
less he would have carried it out had not
he, in an evil moment, been induced for
an hour to lay aside his brush and 60 to
one Of Mrs. A tterbury Van Foam s literary
and artistic afternoons. There it was that
be met Ethelberta Van Foam, and from
that mOEuRnt art took a back seat in his
mental thenter and sentiment and the al
mighty dollar occupied the front row.
Lawrence Hubbub was short Of dollars
and he doubted whether Ethelberta Van
Foam would consent TO starve with him
through life that when he died he would
leave behind him q perfect work. He tried
to forget her and to labor on in the field
he had chosen, but he could not.
~
his rooms.
"A friend Of mine bought your picture
"A Modern Harvest, and liked it, - he
said. s. You put life into those fellows who
are cutting down wheat with sickles, al
though confess I thought the sickle was
a little out Of date. I've been planning a
picture on the side of my store. want it
to be a work Of art as well as an advertise
ment.'
And then be unfolded to the astonished
artist his plans for the great sea scene
But Hubbub refused. 1t would be beneath
his dignity. Smith offered 81 0O0 instead
of $500, but Hubbub was Obdurate. When
the leather man was gone, many conflict
ing emotions rent the forlorn painter
That night he did not sleep, but next day
wrote and accepted the offer, and as he
heard his note drop in the letter box he
said half aloud:
cit is for her sake %
And thus love drove Lawrence HEbbub
from his easel to the stepladder.
SEQ here, mister, de wind s a-bloWin
from two directions in dat picture -
Hubbub looked down from his perch at
the evil eyed lad, who, day after day had
sat on fire plug, watching the progress
of the work. The crowd laughed.
Don't you see, painter, - cried one of
three half drunken man-Of-War' S men, who
were watching his work, s'you We got two
~
rections?"
What this meant Lawrence Hubbub did
not know. but he Obviated the difficulty
with a turn of the brush, leaving but blue
ocean where the schooner had been scurry-
ing along before the stiff breeze. Then he
grOaned inwardly. What indignities he had
descended to for her sake-that he might
have money, that he could throw himself
at her feet with at least 1000 in his
pocket And so be painted on and on and
never noticed the smart brOugham that
wheeled up the street, swung into Broad
way and stopped in front of the store. A
young woman got out, tripped through the
door that the boy obsequiously opened for
her and made her way back to the Office.
"Why, my dear EtheIberta," cried At
terbury Smith as he placed a chair for her
at his desk, I thought that you and your
mother had left town and forgot a poor
old bachelor like me. -
The young woman protested that moth
ing was farther from her than to forgot
her dear uncle, and she was sure he would
give her a check for pin money The old
gentleman chuokled and quickly complied
with the request.
"But, my dear" he said, ''you have
grown pale and worn Of late. Has he
proved faithless2"
Il don't know who you are taking
about, - cried the girl, blushing.
-5--
chuckled the old gentleman.
ooh, now, do change the subject, uncle.
I want to know do painters make much
money-artists, I mean2''
Mr. Smith removed his glasses and eyed
his niece blankly.
Dear, dear, be said, 'what a ques-
ton 1 don't think artists make much
but, as for painters, why, there's one on
my sign that'u get a cool 81 ,000''
But don't mean common On paint
ers. I mean -
The tramp of many feet and bedlam of
cries came from the front Office. Mr..
Smith and his niece rushed out and saw
two policemen lay bleeding, paint covered
body on the floor.
GOOD heavens, what has happened2"
exclaimed the leather merchant
Its the painter, scr, - said one of the
policemen. He t'rowed a brush at a bye,
an the bye upset the ladder, an the young
Teller fell an lit on his head
Poor thingl" said Ethelberta Van
Foam, kneeling over the PROSTATE form,
and with her own handkerchief she began
to wipe away the ocean blue from his face.
The touch of her hand seemed to revive
him, for he opened his eyes and muttered:
81 gave up everything for her-art and
aIl-but-er-MissV Van Foaml'
poor thingl" she repeated soothingly
as she cleaned off one cheek. "Who were
you talking OFF,
You, - he whispered, and she recognized
him.
Glance I'D at the big second story win