The Laurens advertiser. (Laurens, S.C.) 1885-1973, 1903-03-18

EGGB the winter, too, busy as 1 was
filling In my Black Rock sketches for
the railway people who would still
persist in ordering them by the dozen,
the memory of that stirring life would
come over me, and once more 1 would
be among the silent pines and the
mighty snow peaked mountains, and
before me would appear the red shirt
ed shanty men or lark faced miners,
great, free, bold fellows, driving me al
most mad with the desire to seize and
fix those swiftly changing groups OF
picturesque figures. At such times I
would drop my sketch and with eager
brush seize a group. a face, a figure,
and that is how my studio ONE to be
filled with the men of Black Rock.
There they are about me-Graeme and
the men from the woods, Sandy, Bap-
tiste, the Campbells and, in many atti-
tudes and groups, old man Nelson;
Craig, too. and his miners, Shaw, Geor-
die, Nixon, poor old Billy and the keep
er OF the league saloon.
1t seemed as If I lived among them,
and the illusion Was greatly helped by
the vivid letters Graeme sent me from
time to time. Brief notes came now
and then from Craig, too, to whom 1
had sent a faithful account of how /
had brought Mrs. Mavor to her ship
and of how l had watched her sail
away with none too brave q face as
she held up her hand that bore the
miners ring and smiled with that deep
light In her eyes. All, those eyes have
driven me to despair and made mo
fear that I am no great painter after
all, in spite Of what my friends tell
me who come In to smoke my good
cigars and praise my brush! 1 a get
the brow and hair and mouth and
pose, but the eyes-the eyes elude me.
And the faces OF Mrs. Mavor on my
wall, that the men praise and rave
over, are not such nS ; IoG,d show to
any Of the men from the mountains.
Graeme's letters tell me chiefly about
Craig and his doings and about old
about Graeme and how he and Nelson
are standing at his back and doing
| what they can to fill the gap that ney-
er a be filled. The three are much
together, I can see, and I am glad for
them all, but chiefly for Craig, whose
face, grief stricken, but resolute and
often gentle as q woman's, will not
leave me or let me rest in peace.
The note Of thanks he sent me was
entirely characteristic. There were no
heroics, much less pining or self pity.
1t was simple and manly, not ignoring
the pain, but making much Of the toy.
And then they had their work to do.
That note, so clear, so manly, SO nobly
sensible, stiffens my back yet at times.
In the spring came the startling news
that Black Rock would soon be no
more. The mines were to close down
on April l. The company, having al
lured the conhding public with ent,c-
ing descriptions of marvellous drifts,
veins, assays and prospects and having
expended vast sums of the public'B
money In developing the mines till the
assurance Of their reliability was alb
solutely final, calmly shut down and
vanished. With their vanishing van
ishes Black Rock, not without loss and
much deep cursing on the part OF the
men brought some hundreds Of miles
to aid the company in its extraordina-
| ry and wholly inexplicable game.
Personally 1t grieved me to think
that my plan Of returning to BLACK
Rock could never be carried out. It
was n great compensation, however,
that the three men most representative
to me of that life were soon to visit
me actually in my own home and den.
Graeme's letter said that In one month
they might be expected to appear. At
least he and Nelson were soon to come,
and Craig would soon follow.
On receiving the great news I at once
looked up young Nelson and his sister,
and we proceeded to celebrate the Joy
full prospect with a specially good din.
ner. I found the greatest delight in
picturipg the JOY and pride Of the old
man In his children, whom he had not
seen for fifteen or sixteen years. The
mother had died some five years be-
fore. Then the farm was sold, and the
brother and sister came into the city,
and any father might be proud of them.
The son was a well made young fellow,
handsome enough, thoughtful and solid
looking. The girl reminded me of her
father. The same resolution was seen
in mouth and jaw, and the same pas
sion slumbered In the dark gray eyes.
She was not beautiful, but she carried
herself well, and one would always
look at her twice. 1t would be worth
something to see the meeting between
father and daughter. ~sa
But fate, the greatest artist Of us all,
takes little count Of the careful draw
ing and the bright coloring of our fan.
cy's pictures, but with rude hand de-
ranges all and with one swift sweep
paints out the bright and paints in the
dark, and this trick he served me when
one June night, after long and anxious
waiting for some word from the west,
my door suddenly opened and Graeme
walked in upon me like a specter, gray
and vo!celess. My shout Of welcome
was choked back by the look In his
face, and I could only gaze at him and
walt for his word. He gripped my
hand, tried to speak, but failed to make
words come.
"Sit down, old man." I said, pushing
him into my chair, "and take your
time"
He obeyed, looking up at me with
burning. sleepless eyes. My heart was
sore for his misery, and I said: "Don't
mind, old chap. 1t can't be SO awfuliy
bad. You're here safe and sound at
any rate" And 80 I went on to give
him time, hit no sbuddered and looked
found and groaned.
"Now, look here, Graeme, let's have
1t. When did you land here3 Where