The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1900-04-15

Within the month l will send you my
address. 1t will be somewhere in the
country. Goodby. God bless you. You
have done more for me to-day than
words can tell. Good-by'r
Philip Switzerland did no< totter when
he walked away from the church that he
had so reluctantly entered scarcely more
than an hour before. There was no more
bringing in his attitude, no slouching des-
pondency in his gait. He forgot that he
was collarless, that his hair was unshorn
and his chin unshaven; that the soles of
his shoes were almost gone and that his
trousers were ragged around the bottom.
He knew, moreover, where We're located
dealers in clothing who did business on
Sundays, although their doors We're bar
red, and to one of them he went
When that Easter evening came, he sat
alone in a little hotel room engrossed in
book which he had that day succeeded
in purchasing at Bowery stand. 1t
was Beecher's Life of Christ" and with
in himself he was fighting the most ter
rife battle of his life, for every impulse
he possessed, save one-his promise to
Roderick DOuglass-cried out for the slim
ulant his appetite craved.
Many times during the day he had al
most surrendered Twice he forgot him
self so far as to enter saloon and order
sumo, or die. Once he had 1t to his lips
but with hands that trembIed he replaced
it upon the table, paid for it, and silently
but sorrowfully walked away. Now, be-
side him were a bottle and a glass, and
the glass was filled to the brim with the
red fluid but he did not taste A full
half dozen times he raised the glass to
his lips, put ia away, and deliberately
pourned the contents in the cuspidore; but
only 10 fill it again and fight the battle
out again and yet again.
And the night passed and morning
dawned. The bottle was empty, but no4
one drop of its contents had passed the
artists lip.
on the outskirts of a quiet Connecticut
village, in the north wing of an old colo
NAL mansion Philip Sutherland had his
studio, and there, day after day, week
after week, and month after month, he
studied and sketched and dreamed and
sketched again the ideal perfect manand
while he toied pers silently, his eyes grew
brighter deeper and more glad, his
cheeks were round and glowed with health
and his touch became firm and steady.
The wide stretch of canvas facing the
window remained untouched, while the
walls of the room We're gradually papered
with the sketches he made.
Summer came and drifted away for the
advent of autumn, and it not until
lHdDkSBlNlilB udy tlldl Tue ARTIST lulAeh
his pigments, and prepared his palette
and brushes for the great work he was
to do.
Once began the task absorbing him as
nothing else ever had done, During those
months of study just passed, he had
made sketches of the boy who had inter
viewed the wise men, both hearing and
asking them questions;" of the young man
who had worked for years at the carpen
ter's trade. developing sinew, muscle and
sterling manhood; of the man who as a
fisherman, when his friends gave them
selves up for lost, In the violence of
storm, took them safely to shore: of the
man who when the mob threatened him,
faced 1t unfiinchingly, demanding that he
who was without sin should cast the first
stone; of the man, who. alone and with
out human aid drove the money chang
ers from the temple to the street; of the
man who, facing a starving multitude,
compelled it to silence and to patience I'M
III the hungry could be fed: of tho man,
who in the humility that is engendered
by strength of mind and power of ply
sique, could forgive Peter for his treach-
cry, and Of the man who possessed the
fortitude, the courage and the muscle to
bear the rude cross from the place of
condemnation to the place of execution.
He had studied carefully every initial in
cident in the life of that one perfect man,
ana had made ms study OF eacn incident
distinct from every other. Now with the
canvas before him and his pigments pre-
pared he sought to reproduce a composite
Of these ideas
AS he became more and more absorbed
by his work he never left it while there
was light sufficient to continue his labor;
and all the while his own eyes became
more and more imbued with the fervor
Of his task. AS the stalwart masculine
| figure on the canvass achieved proper
| tons, his own physique seemed to grow
| and expand with it, and he painted with
an intense energy that he did not know he
| possessed.
1t was not until the new year had come
| and gone that he began to portray upon
| the canvas the features of this more than
man. the most difficult task of all. Time
| after time he painted il out and began
| anew, for it was not the accepted idea of
| Christ as depicted by the Old masters,
| that fulfilled his ideal. He wanted the
| likeness without the humility. the sadness
| and the despair which make up the leg
| acy that the artists of to-day inherit from
| their predecessors of medieval times. He
| wanted the humility of strength, not of
| weakness; the charity which is a part of
| dnp cnoIIS naWar. the fOrhearanca Of Ia +