The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1898-07-26
TRAMP AND ARTIST.

n4hbCAOo, lay Ing PdlObG0 duO DIuSu6i
carefully on the ground.
The matches found, he struck one.
Encountering in the process a glance
from curious eyes, he sent the box spin.
ming in their owners lap.
"Join me?'' he said, and, the tramp
acquiescing with a nod, tossed oiga.
rette after it, as he had some time before
tossed her his luncheon out of the wal.
let at his feet.
She picked it up and fingered it, then
placed it somewhat gingerly between
her lips.
1t was maiden effort. That was evil
dent He laughed when the thing rolled
smoking to his feet.
Presently the girls gaze wandered to
the canvas.
SIS that me?" she asked and paused
and flushed resentfully.
ga doubtful likeness, since you fail
to recognize it. (" He laughed
'tIt looks" she said and stopped.
"Well?' he urged, expectant of a
quaint criticism.
Like play actress-in tights, - she
finished, frowning heavily.
He chuckled. The remark amused
him. He knew so many "play actresses
in tights" who would shrink from con-
tact with this dusty wayside wanderer,
yet in turn this vagrant shrank from
them. She resented even the resem-
blance Of a curve. The thing was hui
morous
He turned and glanced at the canvas.
Yes, he had outlined the figure some
what daringly, but then it was that
grand sweep from knee to shoulder
which had first attracted him. He had
passed her earlier in the day, sitting by
the roadside combing out her hair-had
passed her, with his still buoyant step
and knapsack strapped to shoulder,
humming gayly. But-struck by some
thing in the girls attitude--he had re-
traced his steps and asked her to sit to
him.
She still regarded the picture, lines
of dissatisfaction pickering her brows
well, said the artist
"Them boots Of mine, she answered.
A pause. Couldn't you rub 'em outP'
persuasively GIVE got better pair,
spring side uns, in my bundle "
The artist shook his head. They were
bad boots, he conceded, but good art.
us it for the Royle academy" she
said.
"What do you know about the Royal
academy, pray?'
ooh, nothin, RELY, but I've been
there once afore. -
81 thought you told me this was
your first sitting?"
$50 'tis-to remember; was a baby
the larst time Father took me. E was
a artist too. e wos a reel IN, though,
not pavement chalker.
He laughed.
"That's understood, since he was a
Royal academician What was his
nameE''
II amt a-goin to tell"
"What was the subject"
II wos-in long clothes Mother re-
members it. 1t wos the time g come to
see 'er, an she saw the picture after
ward in winder in Pail Mall. :"
He was embellishing his signature
with flourish of the brush when a
thought seemed to strike him and hold
him by the wrist.
"What was it like? Did your mother
ever tell you?"
Course she did, lots Of times. She
was proud to think ed noticed me. I
wos lyin most naked on some workus
lookin steps, an my eyes wos wide open,
lookin up Yards at the stars -
Z" The Love Childl' r"
That's It'll You've seed the picture
too?"
"Often, quietly. "It's copied quite
a deal. +"
His hand was growing careless; it
swerved, and the brush slipped. The
girl cried out; there was daub across
the canvas.
"There now" regretfully, you've
made a smudge acrost your name.
The artist did not answer. His silence
and abstraction were taken as dismiss
ais. She hitched up her bundle, wish
ing him good day.
"No, wait bit - He got up for the
first time and came and stood before
her won't you shake hands before
you go, my-my dear?'
Bewildered, but gratified, she gave
him hers at once. 1t was rough and
sunburned and perhaps not overclean,
yet there was curious resemblance be-
tween the tramp's hand and his own.
He dropped it hurriedly
"How old are you, my child?'
Eighteen come Chris mas.
His eyes were ON her face. They
studied it intently.
"Ah-hp' he said and dropped few
steps back. well, goodby. Good luck.
God bless you. y
Her eyes filled with tears.
"What are you crying for?'
The tears brimmed over.
"At you. You spoke SO kind. You
made me think of mother.
"a hint for your future guidance. =
His voice was hard again. Never trust
g man because he appears kind. They
are mostly dangerous, and often the
worst sort. -
The change in his tone depressed her.
She sighed forlornly. Pore mother
told me that -
His glance fell to earth. A pink tip
ped daisy was peeping above the grass.
He ground it into the sod with the toe
of his heavy boot.
"Goodby again.
She took his proffered hand.
"Stop that l can't bear to see
woman cry"
Stop it she couldn't, but she crooked
her arm and held it before her face.
"Life's SO ard, " she moaned. "Peo-
pie is such 'ogs, an, Oh, Pm SO lonely
since my pore mother died. =
He stood beside her, listening to her
sobs.
my dear" he said at last, 1--WE are
all lonely-you on the high road, in
the cities, pore mother in her grave "
He paused, laying hand on the girls
heaving shoulder. Loneliness is the
common lot; we carry it hidden in our
souls through life Even in crowds it
cries out ceaselessly above the din. We
can make noise to drown it, we can
bury it deep down, we can call our
friends together and smoke and drink
upon it's tomb-it will creep out in the
nighttime, when the others are all
gene, and, climbing on to our pillows,
sit and jabber to us in the dark. But
life has to be lived through, " throwing
back his head, its prizes fought for,
squabbled over, and errors, l suppose,
must be committed by the way. There's
truth so brutal it might almost keep one
good. The man who sees life isn't ask
ed to pay the piper; the wages are ex-
acted, but it's the innocent who pay.
The tramp's tears were dried; she
woe Lost II, adYnirino xuOndar