Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1899-09-03

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| painters studio. We see him seated
there, with palette posed upon his left
thumb, a brush in his right hand. and
an easel carrying one of the aforesaid
squares of canvas before him-all this
telling he has turned artist. For so has
he, to which, as the reader already
knows, two other incidents, to all ap-
pearance accidental, have led up.
1t needs not to say that the studio
is that of Luigi Torreani. And the
Italian artiset is also in it, seated be-
fore another spread of canvas, support
ed upon separate easel.
Several weeks elapsed since their
chance encounter in Trafalgar Square,
and Henry Harding had made good
progress with the pencil. Having a
natural taste for the art, with some
practice as an amateur, he has given
his Italian instructor less trouble;
who, however, takes every pains with
him. Already he can turn out fair
furniture pictures" by the sale of
which he supports himself, no longer
needing to lean upon Luigi either for
Lessons or loans. He has even been able
to returns some money advanced to
him by his fellow artist, to redeem his
hypothetical effects, and his gold
watch, with it's guard attachments, is
again seen upon his person. Land
scapes are his forte, with figures, and
he has painted several that sold we'll
scenes of rural life and country sport
with which he is familiar. Among
them one he has good reason to remem-
ber-its souvenir seen on the little fin
ger of his left hand, alongside the
palette he is holding, in the shape of
longitudinal scar which traverses the
finger from root to tip, even dividing
the nail. Having confded everything
to Luigi Torreani, now his bosom
friend, he has told the latter how,
where and when he received that sin
gular brand; and, as if to make the tale
more understandable, though with
very different intention, has painted
the scene itself.
The picture is there, leaning against
the wall-a scrubwood, recognizable as
a game-preserve; two young gentlemen
portsmen-himself and his half broth
er; a keeper close by, a spaniel crouch
ing between, Nigel with knife drawn to
slash the animals ear, himself with
hand stretched out to protect tin
short the episode just as it occurred.
The tale itself has enlisted the sympa-
thies of Luigi Toreeani, still more the
occurrences of later date, which have
also been made known to him. For
his English friend has made no secret
of the estrangement with his father, but
told all, even the story of his unre-
Quilted love. The confidence the Ital-
ian has reciprocated by giving a brief
autobiography Of himself, including an
account of his father and sister, with
his artist life at Rome. the part he had
espoused in politics, ending with the in
cident of his escape in the balloon, and
some words about the contadina who
assisted him.
"The girl was my model" he says
ono ho txrro ohopna IN no fol
ing of her. And to YOU AMIGO, shall
say, en- confidence, something more
You've told me of your sweetheart,
and how you loved her. Camillas is
mine; and to prove to you how ought
to love her, you'll only need to give a
glance at her portrait There,'
Saying which, he takes from a draw
er miniature picture-the portrait of
a girl in the picturesque dress of the
Neapolitan peasantry- holds it be-
fore the eyes of his fellow artist
Nov, isn't she beautiful creature?
Can you wonder at my loving her?
That l do to distraction, and though
bul d peasant SliI, Slt Shall yet D6 d
gentleman's wife, if all goes well. OH
how long to return to Rome!"
is that another of your sweet
hearts?" asks Henry. pointing to a sec
ond portrait the Italian has taken out
OF the drawer, aho that of a young
girl, Italian too. though not in peasant
garb, but in the dress Of a signorina-
lady. IF So" continues the Eng
ishman, Il can only say your taste
and mine differ very much. Your con-
tadina is pretty admit, but of the two
1 should far prefer the lady"
"Ha! ha. hal" laughs Luigi. so
you like the looks of that little dam
sel?''
Il do indeed. Who wouldn't? IN all
my life never saw face more sweet
ly beautiful
What! not that of Miss what's-her-
name, your belle of Buckinghamshire?"
rs it really d portrait?" asks the
young Englishman. disregarding the
others interrogatory. which is some
what distasteful to him
1T really is; and, can assure you, a
=. 81 T