Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1900-09-13

! quoted Lord Ryvers, as he looked down
a long woodland glade, where shafts
Of golden light pierced the thick foil
age of the stately trees, and lay with
the dancing shadows on the grass. II
is indeed paved with gold,' he added.
What colors Of mine, what coloTs
mixed bv mortal hand, could copy the
tender green of the young grass, the
| 1oyeiv t:rts Of the trees, the golden
CLEAN Of the sum-
Randolph. Lord RIVERS, patrician by
birth, and master of half a dozen fair
estates, but an artist by nature, de-
lighted in freeing himself from the
tranmels Of society, and taking an ar
fistic tour. without valet or servant,
without any Of what he called the in
cunbrances of rank. Having heard
one dav that no shire in England was
so we'll wooded as WarWickshire, that
for the beauty Of its rivers, its shaded
walks and drives, the county Of Earl
CIV" had no equal, he was not happy
until he had told his mother, Lady
RIVERS. that he was going on a sketch
ing tour. and had left the great city
behind him.
He had seen the loyeliest spots in
Warwickshire; he had visited the
grand Old castle; he had studied the
loneliness OF Stoneleigh Abbey and of
Guys Cliff; he had revealed in the
grand ruins of Kenilworth; he had adj
mired the green woods, the trimming
rivers, the deep, clear meres; and at
iast he had reached the picturesque vii
lage of St. Byn0's, where the quiet, pas
toral loneliness for which the county
is famous is seen to perfection.
Every artist knows St. Byno's. It
is a sleepy village, with a placid stream
running through it, and deep, green
woods surrounding it on every side;
its cottages are half hidden by noble
chestnut trees with green fields around
them, where the cattle stand lazily
knee-deep in the clear pools.
There the young artist had tarried.
He was delighted with st. Bynos, with
the magnifcence Of its trees, the
beauty OF it's streams. On this partic-
ular morning, the second Of June, he
had gone to sketch in the woods. He
placed his easel at the opening of a
glade, and the first words that came
to his lips were-'June's palace paved
with goId!" Lover Of art, Of nature,
of beauty as he was, he stood silent be-
fore the glorious contrast of sunlight
and shadow, the ripple of green foliage
tinged with gold, which met his eyes.
Suddenly, as he watched the light
that cleaned ,quiyered and fell in
golden glory, he caught sight of pale
blue dress between the trees. He took
up the brushes and worked for few
minutes; then on looking up he was
astonished to find two beautiful eyes
fixed on him, and a sweet voice said:
is that real picture? May | look
at ft?'
ct can hardly be called a picture
yet, he answered, raising his hat cour-
teOusly; sit is but the commencement
Of one. find I can not paint the sun
light as it falls yOnder."
May I look at it more closely?' she
asked.
He moved aside, and, placing her
self before the easel, she glanced at
the still wet colors.
NO" she said, you have not
caught the sunlight
AS he gazed at her, standing in the
bright June sunshine, Randolph, Lord
RIVERS, met his fate. He turned his
ewes with difficulty from the fair young
face.
She was tall, slender girl, with a
1.-the, graceful figure, golden hair and
| a face more beautiful than words can
| tell-fair and dainty, Of the most del
icate type Of loneliness, with a broad,
! low brow and eyes Of clearest, darkest
violet, that were almost black under
the dark-fringed lashes. The little
white hands were ungloved, the white
hat had for all ornament a bunch OF
c0rn-fiowers, the dress was of plainest
material, yet he could have knelt al
her feet and paid her homage, as to 8
queen.
NO" she repeated, you have mo-
i caught the sunlight. Your light is too
opauue-it wants transparency. It i:
yellow. and the sunlight is a faint am
ber."
Thanks for your criticism" said he
E'You are very welcome" she replied
and the bewitching violet eyes looked
FRANKLY into his "Nanv artists com
here to sketch and paint the river anC
woods, but none of them catch the tru
color of the sunlight
s'You are a severe critic" said tn
young artist.
81 have not the least idea Of crit
, iCism," she replied-"I know notnin
Q of art terms: but l can tell when IA
! ture is truthfuIly initiated and when
is not. The chief character of the sun
light is it's transparency"
The young artist bowed.
4 Il should like to ask you for fe7
s lessons" he said; ana her musics
t laughter rang out through the trees
n ASK me? Why, I never had a les
e son in my life: so l could scarcely III
r dertake to give one" she replied.
: He scarcely knew how to address he
J. He would have liked to tell her no
It fair a picture she made, to ask her
" stand while he sketched her: but /
d felt dazed by her beauty and the ligl
II of her wonderful eyes.
a Il have been very abrupt in my r