The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1902-08-01

and started out, Mrs. Dartmore said
81 think I would find something be-
sides apple blossoms to paint to-day"
There was an old man who lived il
a suburb of the town in little house,
with his dogs and cat and an old house
keeper. He was painter, and he had
a strange theory that painting should
be a labor of love, and the reward
sought after-perfeetion in the work.
He lived alone; for no one intruded
upon him.
When Ruth DaTtzno ore discovered her
talent she applied to him for instruc-
ton. He would have turned away any
one else; but her youth and beauty
were an inspiration to him, and her
enthusiasm pleased him, so, taking a
| younger brother or sister with her,
three times week she went to him
| for instruction.
Shortly after the incident in the or
| chard she came to him with a sketch
| of youth and maiden and fine set
ter dog, under large, old apple tree
laden with bloom, and told him her plan
for the painting-and he was greatly
| pleased. So she worked all summer,
and he helped her, but she was hard to
satisfy. The youth was not handsome
enough; the pink and white blooms did
not melt softly enough into the blue
and gray of the sky; the tender green
OF the foliage was not delicate enough,
! SO she would lay aside a nearly fin
lshed canvas and begin again. This
usually delighted the old painter.
You are coming along finely" he
said. "You have caught the divine
| fire."
One morning in early autumn she
| looked up from the canvas to the old
painter.
1T will do, it will dol" he said, nod
ding his head. TITS as beautiful as a
| dream"
And it was, inded, dream picture
the youth and maiden and fine dog
under the grand old apple tree.
viii it do to exhibit-to send OFF,"
she asked, timidly. A shade passed
over the old mans face.
"And you feel the thirst for fame Pr
he said, slowly.
No; not that" she answered, quick
ly and earnestly.
ut is necessity need money"
"And you will sell your birthrightP
Well, we will see what it is worth in
the market"
The old painter had once lived in
the world, and still retained knowl-
edge of the places where such work
was sold. So he packed up the paint
ing and sent it, with all it's breezy
freshness of youth and beauty and
country air, away to the city. The
young painter had said to him: 81
can do nothing now until L see," and
he had looked disappointed, and she
grew thin and nervous while waiting.
She had seen Henry but once since
their meeting in the orchard, and that
was the evening after the picture was
packed. She met him in the road, and
he held out his hand and said: II am
going back to college tomorrow, Ruth.
My vacation has not been what hoped
it would be when I came home, but
two more terms at college, and then
L hope to get into place where l
can command your attention.
You had best build your air cas-
ties without me, Henry"
You are building yours without me,
I suppose?"
eyes"
And he went away in anger. It was
heartbreaking to have him go in this
way; but her mother had said: "The
Carridines are proud people, and you
had better keep away from them
She thought of this, and it helped her
to control her feelings.
One day the old painter sent for her;
she came to him white and breathing
hard. He held out roll of bills to-
wards her. sob, is it enough, enough
for term at a good art school?" she
gasped.
And it is an art school, then you
aim at?" he asked, somewhat appeased.
eyes, it is enough; We'll make it
enough"
Then she left the country and went
to the city to study art, and her life
became life of labor, where partial
success was followed by failure; then a
struggle to succeed again. She taught
awhile and studied awhile, and her
name was printed in a paragraph of
other names of toilers along the same
hard way.
She rarely had time to visit her old
home; time passed, and she realized it
not. But there was mixture of vanity
and selfshness with all this devotion
to aria desire to write her name
above that of Carradine. With this
end in view she triumphed over all her
natural feelings, and lost the sweet
ness that is in work for the works
sake. Her younger brother and sis
tiers grew up, married and moved
away. Her father died while she was
in Europe-and still she was not fa-
nous; still she had never painted any
thing as well as she had painted the
youth and maiden under the apple
tree.
Sometimes the memory of that early
painting came back to her; sometimes
in the heat and dust, tired and travel
stained she would be waited away in
vision and be again in the old orchard.
"If only mother had let us alone!"
she would exclaim, fretfully.
Henry studied law and rose high in
the profession. He married a lawyers
daughter. Ruth had read the details