Waterbury Democrat., 1902-07-14
Gricyc, BiSSct & Holland

morning when Ruth put on her bonnet and started out, Mrs. Dartmore said: q think I would find something be- sides apple blossoms to paint to-day
 There was an old man who lived iE a suburb of the town in little house, with his dogs and cat and an old house. keeper. He was painter, and he had strange theory that painting should be a labor of love, and the reward sought after-perfection in the work. He lived alone; for no one intruded upon him.
 When Ruth Dartmore discovered her talent she applied to him for instruc-; tion. 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 a week she went to him, for instruction.
 Shortly after the incident in the orr chard she came to him with sketch of youth and maiden and a fine set ter dog, under large. old apple tree laden with bloom, and told him her plan for the painting 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 nearly fn- ished canvas and begin again. This usually delighted the old painter.
 tYou 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.
 ssIt will do, it will dol'' he said, nod ding his head. "It's as beautiful as dream"
 And it was, inded, adream-picture- the youth and maiden and fine dog under the grand old apple tree
 e'Will 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 ?'' he said, slowly.
 
 ly and earnestly.
 "It is necessity-I need money.'
 "And you will sell your birthright? We'll, we will see what it is worth in the market.''
 The old painter had once lived in the world, and still retained a 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 ans beauty and country air, away to the city. The young painter had said to him: "I can do nothing now until 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: T 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 I hope to get into place where I l can command your attention"
 You had best build your air. cas- ties without me, Henry.''
 You are building yours without me, I suppose?"
 "Yes"
 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; l she came to him white and breathing l hard. He held out roll of bills to- wards her. .'Oh, is it enough, enougb | for term at good art school?' she | gasped.
 And it is an art school, then you aim at :" he asked, somewhat appeased. ''Yes, 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 struggle to succeed again. She taught awhile and studied awhile, and her name was printed in paragraph of | other names of toilers along the same | hard way.
 l She rarely had time to visit her old home; time passed, and she realized it not. But there was a mixture of vanity and selfishness with all this devotion l to art-a 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 | ters grew up, married and moved | away. Her father died while she was | in Europe-and still she was not fa- nous; still shehad never painted any, thing as we'll as she had painted the youth and maiden under the apple | tree.
 | |. SomatizneS tha memorx of tnat earlU