The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1897-02-12
misccllanepn5.
A BAG OF LETTERS.

A bright fire was burning in the
studio of Jack Torrington, the celebrat
ed newspaper artist, and everything
indicated that he knew thoroughly
how to appreciate those comforts to
which he had only lately become en-
titled, for only about Il month before
Jack, like Lord Byron, 'awoke one
morning to find himself famous"
He had had long and bitter strug-
gle with adverse fortune. For more
than ten years he had toiled untiring
lv. rewarded only with poverty, star
walton and neglect. He had lived and
worked in a garnet, carrying his draw
ings from editor to editor-alwavs on
foot, for he could not afford to pay
omnibus fare-only to be told that
they had not enough work 70 give to
their own staff. But now at last fate
had smiled upon him-an enterprising
art editor had discovered him-and
he had become the fashion.
He was seated at his ease before the
fire slipping his coffee. He had al
ready looked over the daily paper and
thrown it aside. y large pile of letters
lay on the table beside him, but he
had not opened any of them, probably
because he knew before hand what
lIltlT COIlltHlS were llhSlN W bt.-
When he had completed his medita-
tions on the mornings news, however,
he took one up and opened it. 1t was
from the editor of one OF the leading
ladies' weekles, The Glass IF FuShiOll,
and it ran thus:
Dear Mr.. TOrrington-We have
been much gratitied-"Oh, hang the
compliments, exclaimed Jack, and he
hung them-that is 20 say, he skipped
them. Would YOU the editor con
tinCei, "have time to under axe
one or two full page drawings for our
summer number? The subject would
be entirely your own choice, but of
course it would be something appro-
pirate to the season. You can name
your own price"
"Oh, most likely" said Jack, and
he threw the letter into the fire. This
was the editor who had written to him
only two years before. las you do
not excel at this kind of work, | fear
it will not be possible for us to employ
you" This letter was followed by
about a dozen more from other editors
in very much the same terms.
The next letter that Jack picked up
was directed in a graceful feminine
hand. There was q dainty perfume
about it, and there was a crest on the
envelope.
''Who the devil can this be p
thought Jack. He opened it.
"Dear sir" it began, Surely can
not be wrong in supposing you are
the same Mr.. Torrington who was
sketching down here year ago
Lets see what the name is-Anna
Delacy Thorre. Oh, by Jove, know
it's that woman down in Shropshire
who used to come and bother me to
show her my sketches, and who used
to tell Inc how happy l was to be able
to do such charming work, and who
never once asked me into her house to
have a cup of tea Well, what more?''
Those delightful pen and ink
knew that you would be famous some
day. My husband saw your portrait
in one of the papers, and he says he is
quite sure it is, etc. Is there any
chance of your coming down this way
next summer? We should be so glad
to see you and | should find you
plenty of models. Thanks | can do
that for myself. Have you the
sketch still which | admired so much
of two girls standing on the bridge
and would it be very eXpensive?n
Eyes, madam, it would be expensive
but you could have had it last year
for ) shillings." This letter also was
tossed into the fire.
The next was directed in an untidy
scrawl, with many smudges and ortho-
graphical mistakes. 1t ran thus:
onnered sur was SO gled to here Of
yur susces and so wos mother line
suryu diservd it if emmy won did for
yu hev worked so long for nuthin and
had so much truble i hop yu air
very we'll shud be so gled if yu cud
Civ me sum work mother hes ben i'll
and fether is out of worke and i hev
had nuthing to do for B months and
prises air so hi just now we air leving
now at number IS sidney street. yer
obedunt servent,
SOPHEY MATHEWS.
Poor little thing said Jack to
himself. she had rather good
shoulders | must see if L can find
anything for her to do"
The next letter was from a fellow
student of his who had been rather
successful as portrait painter, but of
whom Jack had seen nothing since
their student days, except now and
then when they had met by accident.
Dear Jack.-I really must congratu-
late you on your unprecedented sue
cess. Everybody is asking me about
you. feel quite proud of having been
your fellow student. But | always
knew that you were going to do great
things Why, l never saw any one
get along as you did. You simply
gallopped, while other fellows crawled
You were certain to make your mark
sooner or later. | wish you would
come round and criticise the portrait
which am painting of Mrs. Bolton,
the celebrated beauty. 1t is nearly
finished, and | should so like to see
what you would think of it. lam lat
! home Thursday afternoons.
1.-The devil you are . So am ;"
said Jack.
The next letter that he took up was
directed in a hand the sight of which