The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1901-04-10

its petals against The rough window
ledge, he BERT It back 10 It's place
against the gray wall
CLOSE your eyes" the angel said. II
Will show yJu the second wing" Tho
painter fell himself led to the south
window. "Now look" said his guide
A strange change had come over tho
LANDSCAPE in that short moment A
mellower flush softened the folla6e Of
the trees and deepened the hues Of
the blossoms. The sky itself bad a
stronger and more vivid blue. In thiS
gallery" said the angel ARE nothing
but oils. This is where Rosa Bonheur
painted. Look across to the read and
yoa will see the charging, white named
heroes OF the Horse Fair and hear
their neighlng. Playing there on the
post road are the gamma Of Marie
Bashklrtsef. Here are all the land
scapes that We're ever spread on can
vas. Today there are scenes of calm
and quiet; tomorrow my Master Will
cloud his sky. bend his trees and whip
his hedges with a great wind In order
that those pupils who wish may ha re
for model the gloom and the storm"
With gesture the angel babe the
painter close his eyes second time
and led him to the east window. When
he opened them there had come another
subtle change on the world without.
The rich tints Ind disappeared: n sub
dued brown had rusted the hedgerows,
and Misps of yngrant. motley leaves
danced along the paths. The great trees
We're bare. and In the network which
their stripped. complaining branches
laced the wind made somber singing,
in this wing" said the angel, 'are
my Masters etehings. Here are silhou-
cites of forests against II steel sky.
Here are stretches of barren seacoast
with lonely dunes Here are desolate
country houses by bleak ways. Here
are all the sad and sober shadows of
the pencil.
Again the angel babe him close his
eyes and flung the north window open.
This time further change, the great
est OF all, appeared. The painter
could scarce repress cry of delight
Iva hN was iOVhAhb OhN uROii u hpiAN
of sculpture. Soft snow had marbled
the dImpllng surface of street and
field and smoothed the harsh outlines
into grace. stllllng the sparliles of the
distant river. 1t had turned the con
tours of the PARKWAY hills In the
curves OF mountain maldens and giant
warriors 1t WAS NJ though some
II 10. Ia,
earth slept 10 touch all that was bare,
all that was ugly, all that was without
charm. and dream 1t into loveliness,
The painter drew II long, deep breath
and threw back his head with Il pecul-
lar gesture. There was a new Hight
upon his face, at which the angel
smiled. He seated himself and dropped
his face into his hands. 1t was 80
great and marvellous,
When he looked up, the angel was
gone. He started to his feet. The
tears were wet upon his face. "a
beautiful dream," he said. "a beau
tiful dream" He looked at the can
vas spread upon the easel for a mo-
ment, smiling at It. but not bitterly.
Then he went to the window and look
ed out upon the spring. The climbing
rose was still there, a little redder, a
little more sweetly perfumed, a little
higher and stronger upon its stalk.
He reached out n finger aud drew 1t
into the embrasurc of the window.
ut was beautiful dream" lie said.
But It was not II dream after all, for
an hour later the door behind him
opened very softly and the angel came
In. He did not speak, but went close
behind where the painter worked and
looked over his shoulder. The great
design of the The Triumph Of Life"
was blotted out, and low down IN the
corner Of the huge canvas "A little spot
of color was growing and taking
shape.
He was painting the climbing rose.
Then the angel smiled TO himself,
passed out through the door nolselessly
ana was gone-Atlanta Constitution.