The record-union., 1897-08-14

from the WCrk us.
My picture was almost finished before
he broached a subject which must,
think, have been on his mind from the
| beginning.
You'll be about ready to put the
figures in now" he said, tentatively.
| Figures! Oh, I don't mean to have
any figures" replied
| He was evidently prepared for this.
Have a group of figures under that
tree" he said, persuasively; its just
| the place for EN-
oh no." I said; II don't think it
wants figures. And, anyway, I could
not put them in now. They would have
! had to be in the scheme from the be-
ginning"
'Ay,' he assented, sadly. Il thought
you was coloring it up a bit too strong
at first"
What sort of figures would you sug-
gest?" 1 asked.
| He caught at my question eagerly;
perhaps he thought there was still a
chance of saving the picture.
Well, 1 run to classical subjects bit
myself r-pastorals, you know" he said;
land l thought Bacchus and Ariadne
NOulQ SUM llAdl SCSnS LII
I should ha' kept it a bit browner at
the start"
Then you are an artist yourself?" L
said
He waved his hand deprecatingly.
Artist? No, sir A hamateur-which
is to say, a lover of the art
But you do paint" I persisted.
well, a Bit" he allowed, unwillingly.
He was shouldering his spade as he
spoke, but would not let him go until
I had wrung from him a promise that
he would let me see his work.
Langton is but a tiny village, yet
even here there are dark and narrow
courts off the main street, where hu-
man dwellings are packed away into
as narrow a compass, almost, as in the
most crowded cities. 1t was into one
Of these that my old friend brought me
the following evening.
The room in which he lived was small
and i'll lighted, but it was scrupulously
clean, and there was an odd incongru-
Gus air of refinement about it that flied
me with pity and wonder. One shelf
of the oak press held half a dozen dim
and tarnished calf bound volumes,
while above I caught a glimpse of some
blue willow pattern china carefully put
away A few old prints were framed
upon the walls, among them Holbein
head by Bartolozzi. In the window
stood a few flowers in pots absorbing
most of the light that filtered through
the thick green glass.
There's no light for seeing pictures
from that window" my friend said
alphabetically, as he propped the door
open with an old chair. II always
have to paint i tn doorway"
He brought the canvases out, 1ov-
ingly. one by one, and set them up in
turn for me to see OF course they were
grotesque and impossible creations; [
was prepared for that, but in spite OF
the queer drawing and even queerer
color-for he had kept 'em a bit
brown"-there was a touch of some
thing in them that compelled respect.
The subjects were all classical pastor
ais" he called them-Cupid and Psyche,
Mars and Venus, Diana and her maid
ems In treatment they were purely
conventional, Of course, close copies
Of his models, whoever that might have
been: but there was nothing vulgar
nothing absurd about them. In some
strange way there was even hint OF
greatness-it was as if some touch OF
genius, Of real poetic feeling in the man.
peered through the uncouth medium
here and there.
l said something, as 1 honestly could,
in praise of the work, and the old man S
eyes kindled with pleasure. He had
been shy and silent at first, but now
he began to talk He told me he was
an Oldburn man. And there" he said,
with pride 1--WE have a permanent col
lection" He knew every picture in it
by heart, / believe. He remembered
the Art Treasures Exhibition in Man
chester, and he had spent more than
one whole day in the galleries at the
Jubilee Exhibition. Once, when he was
young man, he had been to London
by a cheap trip to see the national
gallery. When he began to speak of
pictures and of painters | was silenced
| by reverent wonder. 1 had been wont
to call myself a lover and a student of
the older schools, but what did | know
of Claude, of Salvador Rosa, of Nicho-
las Poussin, in comparison with this old
man? And he talked of the privilege"
| it was to converse with one so much
better versed in matters of art than
himself!
Presently he became a little more
personal in his "reminiscences, and i
| learned something of the thrift by
which he had saved money to crafty
his hobby.
Il liked my pipe and my drop O.
| beer as we'll as anyone he said, but
you can do deal with one-and-eight
| a week if you save it regular. And 1
| even come in time to be jealous o. the
very food I ate. If I'd ha' put it by
! for my old age the money I spent on
| seeing pictures and making believe to
/ paint 'em, I should ma ha' had the
! work US a-staring me l. the face now.
| Sometimes 1 ha' reckoned up what it'd
| ha come to-not grudging it, sir, but
! for pride like to think I had all that
money, and that 1 spent it the way l
wanted, as free as a lord. I'd do the
! same again if I had it to do. I ha'
! had more pleasure o. my life that way
than if was rolling in my carriage
now and may be-may be I'll cheat the
workus yet
1 came away from Langton cherish
/ ing many golden and romantic visions
/ in my heart of what I would do for my
/ old friend if fortune should be kind to
me; but we painters have fallen upon
/ evil times; it was winter of disap-
pointments and hard luck, my pictures
/ did not sell, and it was autumn again
before I found myself at Langton.
made my way at once to the little
court, only to find the little dwelling
empty and deserted While I stood dis
mayed within the doorway, an old
woman came out from neighboring
! hn11se To I'LL q nitcher at the we'll and